The Dowager Countess (The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor Book 2), Sahara Kelly [best thriller novels to read txt] 📗

communication.” She sighed. “It’s more of a general threat. Revelation of our pasts could do considerable damage.”

“Which would play into the hands of Fairhurst, et al.,” commented Royce.

“It could, yes. But I have a suspicion that if it was any one of them, we’d know by now. They’re possibly waiting for a variety of events…if they had blackmail material on us, they should have moved already.” Giles looked thoughtful.

“And as I said, I never received another note, although one was promised,” added Gwyneth.

“God,” said Evan. “It’s almost as if we’re under siege, isn’t it?”

“In many ways, yes,” nodded Giles. “I’m afraid that is quite true.”

“Anyone who succeeds becomes a target, Giles. You know that as well as I.” Royce waved his forefinger at the other man. “Wolfbridge is successful, and you’ve got your hand on the heart of Fivetrees as well. That is more than enough for the greedy and the desperate.”

“So is there a bottom line to all this?” Jeremy, for once, looked weary.

“There is,” said Giles, rising and putting his empty glass back on the drinks tray. “Watch your backs. Watch our Lady’s back extra closely. Be prepared, be alert and be watchful.”

“That’s a comfort indeed,” Gwyneth commented as she too rose and put her glass on the tray. “Thank you, Giles. You’ve given me a lot to consider. I would guess that we’re all in your debt, and we couldn’t do any of this without you.” She stood on tiptoe and daringly dropped a light kiss on his cheek. “Get some rest. Tomorrow is the fête, so we must be especially vigilant.”

She left the room, knowing that the others might chat for a bit, but the odds were good they’d tap on her door to make sure she was tucked up and needed nothing.

They’d be surprised. She did need something. She needed them.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Journal of Gwyneth, Dowager Countess, Lady of Wolfbridge - the night before Whit Sunday, 1818

 

So much has happened since I last wrote here - I feel quite guilty for not keeping this journal as up to date as I should, but somehow it seems I must store up my observations and release them all at once. Were I to attempt a regular entry, along the lines of a diarist, I fear I would fail. It is not my habit nor my style. And I am coming to understand that I have both habits and styles, and neither are to be suppressed.

I’m learning those lessons from Wolfbridge and from its occupants.

I’m learning that I like being the Lady of the Manor, far more than I ever liked being a Countess. Here, the things I say matter. The ideas I have are listened to with respect and interest, and my opinions the same. I am not treated as an empty-headed woman fit only for bearing children and inviting other women to tea.

Here I have a say in what happens, a part in the daily life of the Manor, and the support and encouragement of four men who are rapidly becoming closer to me than anyone I’ve ever known. Yes, I do mean anyone. Michael’s memory will always be a bright spot in my heart, but now I’ve learned about true passion, the depths of desire and the heights of ecstasy. My love for Michael was that of a young girl in her first blush. I am no longer that girl. The woman I am now wants more.

And I’m fortunate in that my gentlemen will give me whatever I need.

My attempts to assist Evan in making jam - well I’ll never look at a pot of blackberry preserves the same way again. His lips, his mouth…the things he did to me on the kitchen table…those memories are full, rich and as flavourful as the jams we potted.

Was it only this morning? It seems like last year, and for an excellent reason.

Giles returned from London.

That was enough to drive most of my lascivious urges away, since he brought back information about the desperate financial situation of our two enemies. Randschen and Fairhurst, names that should not incur fear, are both rolled up, and we worry they have cast their eyes on Fivetrees as a possible site for a third name - Sir Alfred Gylbart. It seems he is known for his string of establishments serving the very worst in violent prostitution.

We’re all committed to see that this event never comes to pass. Each and every one living here at Wolfbridge has promised to be alert, to be observant and to be cautious. Giles and I may be the main targets, since he holds Fivetrees at the moment, and I hold Wolfbridge. Destroy either one of us and the tenuous strands tangle - possibly enough for those two villains to step in.

It was a difficult conversation over brandy, one where we faced the knowledge of our potential danger and sought ways to counteract any threats or attacks.

We shall proceed with caution. But we shall proceed. I was determined to make sure everyone fully understood that a threat to Wolfbridge should be met with resolve and common sense.

Fortunately, I made that statement before my gentlemen broached the second bottle of brandy, which they brought with them to my room after Giles retired for the night.

How did they know I needed them? I have no idea. But as I walked alone up the stairs my thoughts roamed in their direction. I was worried, I shall admit it, and perhaps a little frightened. It is quite a step from almost starving to death, to becoming the target of a plot to obtain a country estate.

But less than twenty minutes after I’d completed my evening toilette, there was a tap on the door. I heard a muffled laugh, and I knew what I would see when I opened it. There they