THE ATMOSPHERE in Hampstead was very thick that Friday evening. So thick it seemed an effort to breathe. Just drawing air in and out of his lungs seemed to take everything Sean had.
Sitting opposite Deirdre in his dining room, he shoved his plate across the mahogany table. "I'm not hungry. I haven't eaten in three days, and I'm not hungry."
His sister knew what he'd lost. When he'd asked her where he could find the claddagh necklace, she hadn't asked why. "It's sorry I am for you, Sean," she said softly, her eyes flooded with sympathy.
He didn't want sympathy—he wanted the calendar flipped back to April, to before he'd received that damned letter from Hamilton. Shifting his gaze away, he stared at a blue wall. "I'm not the one who has to go back to a husband I despise."
"At least the man I love isn't forbidden to me entirely, as Corinna is to you. I'll give John a son and then I'll move in with Daniel."
Skeptical, he looked back to her. "You'd leave your child?"
Her chin in the air was so familiar. "Rather than stay with John, yes."
"If you say so," he murmured. But he knew she wouldn't. Once she had a son or a daughter, she'd change her mind. Hamilton would banish Deirdre and their offspring to the countryside, and she'd live there, bored out of her mind, for the rest of her life.
And even should she find the will to leave her child, would Daniel Raleigh wait a year or two or more while she made a son with Hamilton?
He doubted that as well.
"Two letters, sir." A footman walked in, holding them out. "One for you and one for the lady."
With its large red seal, Sean's letter looked important. As the servant left, he cracked the wax and unfolded the paper.
"Who is it from?" Deirdre asked.
"A solicitor on Queen Street in Cheapside. A Mr. Peregrine Peabody. He's wishing to meet with me Monday at noon."
"Regarding what?"
"He doesn't say." Whatever it was, it couldn't be good. "I assume I will finally learn who's been poking around in my business, and what he's managed to trump up to ruin me or put me in prison. And what it's going to take to prove him wrong." He glanced at the folded paper Deirdre held, recognizing the scrawl on the outside as the same on the damned letter he'd received back in April. "What does your husband want now? His uncle isn't in the grave even half a day. Is the rotter summoning you to his bed already?"
She broke the seal and scanned it. "He isn't, no. Not yet. He says I'm to attend the reading of the late Lord Lincolnshire's will on Monday. He's sending a carriage to fetch me at eleven o'clock."
"Where is the reading being held?"
"John doesn't say. Just that the carriage will come in the morning." She glanced up from the paper, looking nervous. "Remember that ball Lord Lincolnshire took us to? What if someone who was there recognizes me as the woman introduced as your wife?"
Sean reached to lay his hand over hers on the table. "I don't expect the Billingsgates' guests will be at the reading, Deirdre. It will likely be just you and Hamilton and that lawyer named Lawless."
"I'm not sure that lawyer ever got a good look at me. We were never formally introduced."
"You've nothing to worry yourself about, then." He patted her hand. "Even should Lawless recall seeing you at Lincolnshire House, you are Hamilton's wife. Lincolnshire's niece by marriage. It's not unbelievable you'd be at the man's deathbed."
"That's right." He saw her relax a little. "I wish you could come with me, though."
"I wish I could, too," he said dryly. "I also wasn't formally introduced, but I've no doubt Lawless saw me. And should he not remember me, I'm certain Hamilton would be happy to remind him. And in any case, I cannot go with you because I'll be busy Monday at that time."
Feeling yet more incapable of breathing than earlier, he heaved a sigh. The atmosphere seemed to be getting even thicker.
"The way my luck has been going lately," he ground out, "I'll probably be busy getting arrested."
WHEN RACHAEL and her siblings returned home from the reception at Lincolnshire House, their butler handed a folded paper to her brother. "A letter, my lord."
With its large red seal, it looked important. "What does it say?" Rachael asked as the butler closed the door.
Pausing in the foyer, Noah raised the letter to his forehead. "Hmm. I'm getting a vision. I think it says—"
"Noah." She whacked him with her reticule, feeling giddy. She was in love, and she was going to get married. Griffin was going to be kissing her inside of a week. Maybe tomorrow night. "Open it, you fool."
"If you insist." He broke the seal and scanned down the page. "It's from a solicitor in Cheapside, Mr. Lawrence Lawless. He wants us to attend the reading of Lord Lincolnshire's will Monday at noon."
"Us?" Elizabeth slid off her pelisse. "What do you mean by us?"
"All of us." Shrugging, Noah looked up. "It's addressed to all four of us."