felt the bile rise up in her throat. The vendetta against her was escalating. In a few short weeks it had gone from threatening letters to a dead animal in a box.
‘What sort of animal?’
‘A cat, I think.’
Anna stiffened, torn between breaking free from Lord Edgerton’s grip and seeing for herself, and burying her head in his shoulder and crying for the animal she knew instinctively was in that box.
‘A ginger cat? Small?’
Lord Edgerton nodded. ‘Was it yours?’
Morosely Anna nodded. Beatrice had bought her the animal soon after Anna had come to live in London. It had been her younger cousin’s attempt to brighten Anna’s days and in a strange and unexpected way it had worked. At least until a few days ago when the lovely creature had gone missing.
Lord Edgerton turned to her, his face fixed in an expression of determination. ‘You need to tell me what is going on here.’
She needed to do nothing of the sort. He was little more than a stranger, albeit a chivalrous one. For a moment she avoided his eyes, trying to work out exactly what she could say to make Lord Edgerton go away and forget what he had seen here. It was a deep instinct, this need to deal with her problems with no help from anyone else. For so long she’d been on her own—even through her marriages she’d never found a true companion, someone to share the difficulties of daily life with.
‘I think you should leave,’ Anna said quietly, knowing he would protest, but trying all the same.
‘Not a chance.’
‘This really is none of your concern.’
‘Would you rather I called your uncle in here? Or your cousin?’
Silently Anna shook her head.
‘I thought not. You haven’t told them, have you?’ he asked.
‘There is no need. I am dealing with it.’
‘You’ve had similar packages before?’
Closing her eyes for a moment, Anna assessed her options. Either she could confide a little in Lord Edgerton, just enough to satisfy his curiosity, or she could insist he leave and risk him informing her uncle of what was happening.
‘Can we go for a walk?’ she asked, eyeing the package from a distance.
‘Of course. What would you like done with the box?’
Anna felt the tears building in her eyes. Although she’d always insisted she wasn’t an animal lover, her little cat had brought her happiness in a time of fear and uncertainty.
‘Perhaps you would like to bury the cat discreetly?’
Before she could answer he picked up the box, folded the lid over to shield the dead animal from her eyes and tucked it under his arm.
‘I will meet you on the front steps.’
Anna watched in amazement as he left the room, crossed the hallway and quickly descended the stairs to the basement, no doubt in search of a servant to help him with whatever it was he had in mind. Although she prized her independence, in this situation it was rather pleasant to have someone else take charge and make the decisions.
* * *
Lady Fortescue had just emerged into the hallway when Harry came striding up the stairs from the basement kitchen, taking them two at a time. He’d found a footman and paid him a generous sum to store the package somewhere discreet, warning the man against looking inside. To ensure he would comply, Harry had tied the string in a complicated knot which meant he would know if it had been tampered with. Later he would organise for the box to be buried in the garden and for the gardener to mark the spot with a rose or some other flower of Lady Fortescue’s choice.
‘Shall we take a walk to the park?’ he suggested, offering Lady Fortescue his arm.
She nodded, her face still ashen from the surprise of finding out what was in the parcel.
They left the house and walked in silence for a few minutes, Harry content to let his companion gather her thoughts before pressing her for answers. He wasn’t sure what she’d got herself mixed up in, but his curiosity had been piqued and some deep-seated instinct meant he couldn’t abandon a woman in distress even if on the surface she didn’t want his help.
‘I’m not sure how much you know about me,’ Lady Fortescue said quietly as they entered Hyde Park. It was a sunny day, but still chilly for April, and there weren’t many people out taking the air at this hour.
‘Not all that much,’ Harry said, realising it was the truth. He’d heard many rumours, but none of them had included any information of substance.
‘I’ve been married three times,’ Lady Fortescue said, looking straight ahead as she spoke. ‘My first husband was elderly and infirm, wealthy, of course, with a title. My father arranged the marriage and it was assumed it would not be a long-lasting union. He died seven months after we were married.’
‘Lord Humphries,’ Harry said. He remembered the announcement now and his mother sympathising with the young debutante who’d been forced into marrying such an elderly man.
‘I was in mourning for a year and then I met Captain Trevels. I was a widow of some means and independent enough to make my own decisions, so I married Captain Trevels against my father’s wishes.’
This union Harry had been unaware of. No doubt Lady Fortescue’s family had wanted to hush up what they saw as an inferior match for their daughter.
‘Soon after we married my husband was sent to India for a year. On his return he was dreadfully unwell and died only four weeks after our reunion.’
Two dead husbands in the space of a couple of years, but despite the society gossip there seemed nothing untoward about the deaths. Elderly men and officers of the army died all too often.
‘Unfortunately my second husband had been a little too free with my inheritance and after my mourning period was complete I was dependent again on my father.’
‘He chose your third husband?’
‘I managed to hold out for two whole months before I agreed to marry Lord Fortescue,’ she said with a grimace, ‘but even at the very beginning I knew I had no choice. Eventually I would end up as Lady Fortescue.’
For such a private person Lady Fortescue was being remarkably open and honest about her past. Harry wondered if she found it easier talking to him, a relative stranger, than someone who was close to her. If he probed too much, got too close, he was sure it would be easy for her to push him away.
‘Lord Fortescue had three children from his first marriage, all grown adults now. They resented our marriage from the very start. My husband was fifty-eight when we married, in good health and very physically active.’
‘And then he died,’ Harry summarised.
‘And then he died. Of course his children tried to blame me. They threw me out of the house, have contested
