Lady in Red, Eliza Knight [have you read this book TXT] 📗

face sharp enough to cut glass. “I ought to fire you for it.”

“Apologies.” Elizabeth gripped her gown and curtsied, keeping her gaze respectfully on the floor and hiding her teary eyes in case there were questions. “I had an unfortunate incident with a horse.”

“Pay attention next time. We don’t need no trouble here, and maids must keep to their time, else we’ll find someone who can.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Elizabeth curtsied again and then slipped on her apron, grabbing her cleaning supplies and hurrying to the nursery to begin cleaning.

Throughout the entirety of her workday, she dusted, mopped, scrubbed, made beds, gathered laundry, sweating at the intensity of the work that needed to be done. But her mind was not in this house. Her mind was in Hyde Park, years before, wondering if she hadn’t tossed herself in front of Terrence’s horse if he would have noticed her in the end.

5

Terrence stood in the street a long time, the red hat in his hands, staring into the crowds of moving people, hoping to spot a glimpse of his wife. He stationed a man at his gate too, in case she walked past. But there’d been no further sign of her. Where was she going that she passed his house each day?

Elizabeth—the woman he’d fallen in love with, courted for months, and then married, thinking he’d been gifted the greatest of happiness—had been Linden’s wife? Terrence had thought her dead. Kidnapped. Abused. Lost to him forever.

And this whole time, she’d been in London and letting him believe a lie. More than one lie, to be exact.

Terrence was still reeling from what Elizabeth had revealed. He’d not heard from Linden in over two years. The dockhand had taken a hefty chest of silver to deliver to a supplier and never returned. Terrence had sent out men to look for him, but Linden had never turned up—and neither did the silver.

But with no trace of his employee, Terrence had concluded, as had the Bow Street Runners, that Linden had taken the coin—worth more than the man would have seen in his lifetime—and run, probably back to Scotland. It wasn’t like Linden to do such a thing, but desperate men did desperate things, and Terrence had no real idea of his social life—as clearly evidenced now.

For months after the incident, Terrence had funded the Runners to scour all of London, and even sent a man to Edinburgh. What he didn’t understand was how Terrence had ended up marrying Linden’s wife—and nobody knew a thing about it!

A staggering pain seized his chest. He wasn’t truly married to her. Not if Linden were still alive. Terrence had to stop thinking of her as his, for she wasn’t. Had she been merely a ruse to keep him blind to the heist Linden had been planning?

And just where in bloody hell was the thief?

“James!” Terrence shouted.

His valet slipped into the room from the hallway leading towards the kitchen. James was always near, his job including many more duties than that expected of a simple valet. “Yes, my lord?”

“Go down to Bow Street and speak with Smith. Tell him to help you pick up his search of

Linden. Tell him we’ve had a lead, and explain to him that my wife—sorry, no—that Linden’s wife was here this morning. Her name is Elizabeth Markum.” It pained him to say her name paired with Linden’s.

It would for the rest of his days, he imagined. Every time he thought of her, heard a similar name, saw the color red, his lying little wife would come to mind. And the heartbreak that came along with it.

James nodded, and Terrence watched from the window as his valet left the house and went through the gate. Soon, he’d have answers, and hopefully, the thief would be in jail.

When Elizabeth had left Terrence, she’d taken the hat and several banknotes supposedly for the milliner’s shop, but other than that, nothing else had been missing. She hadn’t stolen from him, only broken his heart.

Now that he knew her husband was the man who’d pilfered the chest of silver right out from under his nose, it seemed silly that she’d only bothered with a few notes. What had her ultimate plan been? Knowing what a conniving heart she had, Terrence couldn’t help but wonder what she was up to now. She’d been so calculated, not to be found in the last two years. Why, all of a sudden, had she popped up into his vision? It had to be on purpose, of that he was certain.

Good God, the questions skittering through his brain set him on edge. He stormed into his library and poured another finger of liquid fire, then another, forgetting to measure and pulling at least three times what he needed. Walking towards the window, he looked out at the bustling streets, now fully alive.

Another ten minutes this morning, and he would have missed her, the city swallowing her whole.

“My lord,” his housekeeper, Mrs. Ball, interrupted.

“What is it?” Terrence said, without bothering to turn away from the window.

“A Lord Ainsley is here to see you.”

“Ainsley?” Though he’d heard of the man, Terrence was not an associate of his, and he had never conversed with him other than casual remarks at the club when he occasionally made an appearance. What could he want?

Mrs. Ball stood patiently, waiting.

“Send him in.” Terrence set the tumbler on the mantle and turned, prepared to greet his unwanted guest with a glower for not being able to drown his confusion and his bruised ego.

Lord Ainsley burst into the library in a cloud of bluster. “I say, Lord Shaftesbury, what have you done with my new maid?”

“Pardon me, sir, I’ve not the faintest clue what you’re talking about.” They’d not hired any new staff lately, so it wasn’t as if he’d stolen a maid out from under him.

Ainsley railed his fist in the air, the man’s white hair waving with force in time with his loose jowls. “Mrs. Markum. I saw your man pull her