They call him the Devil Earl-a scoundrel and accused murderer who grew up on the violent London streets. A proper young lady risks more than her reputation when consorting with the roguishly handsome Hero Fiennes Tiffin , but Lady Josephine Langford...
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Very deliberately and carefully, Josephine dipped the gold nub of her pen into the inkwell. Her father wouldn't be pleased by her actions, but she didn't see that she had any choice.
My dearest brother, I hope my letter finds you well—
I hope it finds you at all, she thought wearily.
—and enjoying your travels. However, I desperately need you at home.
Her hand was shaking when she dipped into the inkwell again. She had Matthew's traveling schedule, but she had no idea if he was following it diligently. Still she didn't see that she had much choice except to try to get in touch with him. But then the doubts surfaced.
How could she even consider asking her brother what she'd asked of Hero? He didn't possess Hero's dark soul. Her brother was kind and generous. She loved him dearly—except for the fact that being several years older he seemed to be of the opinion that he was the only one of any importance. That attitude had no doubt led to the row with her father, bless him.
How might her request change Matthew? Would it turn him into a man like Hero? Did she want to be responsible for turning an angel into a devil? But she was so worried that the next time Avendale took his fists to Amelia he'd kill her.
Hero was right. She should see to the matter herself. But oh, dear Lord, where would she find the strength? And how would she do it? A pistol? A knife? Poison?
How many times would she need to shoot him or stab him? She'd never even seen a dead person—at least not so she'd remember. Her mother had died giving birth to a baby who didn't survive. Josephine had been a child at the time. Her mother had simply appeared to be sleeping. Was all death peaceful?
Josephine was startled from her morose thoughts by a light tapping at her door. Her maid, Jenny, peered inside. "My lady, a missive has been delivered." Josephine's heart fairly stopped beating. Was it from Mia? Has the worst finally happened? Or was it from her brother? Was he on his way home at last? Were her prayers to be answered?
"Bring it here quickly." Her trembling worsened as she reached for the letter. It bore no seal. Just a glob of wax to hold it closed. How strange. She slipped her silver letter opener beneath the wax, parting it from the parchment. Then she unfolded the letter.
We need to meet.
Midnight.
Your garden.
—H
H? Who the fuck—
She nearly gasped.
Hero?
She quickly folded up the letter and looked at Jenny. "Who brought this?"
