Page 50 of A Stranger’s Promise

But the memory of his gentle lips on hers swept all thoughts away. What had she to fear? Never had she met so honorable a man. He’d shown nothing but honor from the start. How many men would accept social disgrace in order to spare their nephew pain? During those moments at the ice house, she’d never found a man more handsome in her entire life. She quickened her pace and arrived at the stables to find men pitching soiled hay into a cart.

“Good day, Miss.” One raised his hand to his hat. “How can I help you?”

Dipping her head in greeting, she smiled and replied, “His lordship bade me join him here, sir.”

The man drew his brows together. “His lordship’s already done with his morning ride. He is back up to the castle.”

Of course. She’d overslept. Charlotte thanked the man, then hurried back the way she’d come. Might she return to the nursery to find him there? She entered the castle, wondering what next to do, when she met Foster in the hallway and showed the old piper the letter.

“His lordship is in his study,” he said. “Come with me, Miss.” He led her down the hallway.

Alistair’s study came into view up ahead. The door stood open.

“So, the owner of the hat is Thomas?” Nicholas’ voice drifted to them. “And the source of his newfound wealth is Lady Cassilis. Why would Lady Cassilis pay the town drunk?”

“Something happened in that icehouse, yesterday.” Charlotte recognized Alistair’s deep tone. “We now know that Thomas was there, and Lady Cassilis could not hide her interest in the place when she spoke with me. She must have been there as well. Perhaps the lad stumbled across—”

Charlotte and Foster reached the room and she looked through the open doorway. Alistair lounged in a brown, wingback chair with one booted foot propped on a small side table. He radiated such lazy grace and primal heat that butterflies danced in her stomach. He wore a white linen shirt, and the gray trousers hugging his long, muscular legs were outright indecent.

As the piper motioned her forward, Charlotte entered. Alistair’s gaze met hers. He jumped to his feet and crossed the room in three long strides. Her fears faded at once.

“Charlotte,” he murmured. “What a pleasure to see you. What brings you here? Surely, Oliver hasn’t gotten into mischief yet again?” He smiled.

“Oliver is studying, my lord.” She smiled back and extended the letter toward him. “I…came because of this.”

He took the note and threaded his warm fingers through hers. She allowed him to tug her to the chair he’d vacated by the fire, keenly aware of Nicholas’ curious gaze.

“What letter is this?” Alistair turned the letter over as she sat down on the chair.

That surprised her. “Meg said you left it for me.”

Alistair frowned. Quickly, he flipped it open and scanned the contents. His brows inched up in surprise. “I did no’ write this.”

Nicholas plucked the letter from his hand and read it. “The mysteries in this house multiply by the day.” He turned his ice-blue eyes on her. “When did Meg receive this?”

“I assumed this morning, but I cannot be certain.”

“Odd,” Alistair murmured.

“Allow me to speak with Meg,” Nicholas offered. With a curt nod, he strode to the door and vanished into the corridor.

Uneasy, Charlotte stood. “I shall not interrupt you, my—”

“Alistair,” he interjected. “My Alistair. I like that.” His expression clouded as he reached down and absently twisted one of her wayward curls around his finger. “This letter alarms me.”

“Who would write such a thing?” She frowned.

He cupped her cheek with his palm. “We will find out.” He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Sit,” he gently ordered.

She obeyed and he strode to the fireplace.

Silence fell.

Charlotte remained in the chair with folded hands as he added wood to the fire. The flames crackled in a mesmerizing dance of light, drawing Charlotte’s thoughts far away, until it seemed only a moment later before the baronet returned.

Nicholas held the letter up between two fingers. “We have a mystery. Meg found this last night on the table in the nursery. She meant to give it to Miss Atchenson but, as Miss Atchenson returned late…” A small smile hovered over his lips.

Concern flashed across Alistair’s face. “Who would draw Charlotte out to the stables at night, and for what purpose?”