Page 76 of Cloaked in Beauty

Rusty plopped his head in her lap and gazed up at her with sad eyes.

“I know,” she whispered. “It’s hard being cooped up for me, too. It’s just for a little longer, though. Uncle Stefan said he’d send a wire to Grandmother after he deposits his copy of the will in his office. If she’s healthy enough to travel, she’ll hop on a train and be here in a few days. Maybe we can go to Grandmother’s old house soon. It’s out in the country with lots of land for you and Shadow to enjoy. You’ll like it there.”

Rusty tilted his head and perked his ears.

Letty smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll come visit at least twice a week. After Mama and I have the chance to spend some time together, I’m going to use some of my inheritance to buy a big spread where we can run and frolic as much as we like. There’ll be plenty of game for you to hunt, and maybe we’ll even find you a she-wolf friend.”

Some might think her silly for wanting her best friend to find the same romantic happiness she had when that friend had four legs and a tail. But Letty wanted to share that joy with everyone she cared about. Her attention floated back to her mother, who was reading over what she had just written, pen poised over the inkwell. Perhaps even Mother and Grandmother could find someone. Wouldn’t that be lovely? Without having to worry about her anymore, perhaps they’d have the freedom to discover new joys and new loves.

A sigh lifted her shoulders—a sigh that should’ve been filled with dreamy visions of a future shared with Philip. Instead, her exhale brought only a tightening of her belly and a growing unease.

So when Rusty jumped to his feet and snarled, his lethargy cast aside in favor of a predator’s stance, Letty lunged off the sofa and reached for the knife at her waist. Only the blade wasn’t there. She’d ceased wearing her leather belt and sheath once she’d donned the more fashionable clothing her mother had purchased for her.

Rusty barked and ran out of the room, toward the front of the house.

“What is it?” Mama rose from her seat, the letter she’d just written sliding from her fingers to the desktop.

“I don’t know.” Letty’s gaze bounced from her mother back to the doorway. “Surely Mr. Harper would have alerted us if any trouble had arisen.”

Philip’s Pinkerton friend had stayed behind to watch the house in Philip’s absence after Uncle Stefan and Mr. Wendell left earlier that morning.

Mama approached and squeezed her arm. “Stay here. I’ll take a look.”

Letty watched her leave, then hurried up the back stairs to fetch her knife. She wasn’t about to let her mother face trouble on her own. Mama was accustomed to fighting battles with money and social status, but those weapons wouldn’t fare well against a physical threat.

By the time Letty fetched her knife and scurried downstairs, the front door had been thrown open and Mr. Harper lay sprawled on the marble entryway floor, unconscious, his face bloodied, and his wrists and ankles bound. Two burly men backed toward the doorway, away from Mama, as Rusty snarled and snapped at them.

From her position behind a potted fern at the back of the foyer, Letty clutched her blade and waited, ready to spring into action should it be necessary. A third man, shorter than the others and somewhat hidden behind them, made his presence known by extending an arm between the two other men—an arm bearing a pistol.

“Call off your dog, madam, or I will be forced to dispose of the animal.”

Like a queen with her loyal wolfhound, Mama spoke with poise and command, not a single waver to be heard in her voice. “Rusty. Be still.”

Thank goodness Rusty chose to obey. He ceased his growling and sat on his haunches at her side. Letty didn’t release the breath she held, though, until the newcomer lowered his weapon.

He stepped through the opening between the two men, who had reclaimed enough of their courage to halt their retreat, and tugged on the bottom of the vest pulled tight over his generous middle. He tucked his pistol inside his jacket, then pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead as if he’d exerted himself. “I’m here to collect Miss Scarlett. Mr. Radcliffe has heard of her return and is anxious to be reunited with his long-lost niece. I’ve brought his carriage and will transport her to his home as soon as she can make ready.” The man dipped his chin in mock subservience.

He looked like an overweight raven, dressed all in black with beady eyes glinting behind a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles perched on a hawkish nose. He folded his arms behind his back, increasing his resemblance to the winged scavenger. Yet it was the way he looked at Mama, as if he sensed her imminent demise and couldn’t wait to feast on her carcass, that sent shivers coursing over Letty’s skin.

Mama, however, waved him away as if he were nothing more significant than a common housefly. “My daughter will not be going anywhere with you. Be gone.”

The raven shook his head and tsked. “So inhospitable. Especially since Mr. Radcliffe went to so much trouble to collect a companion for Miss Scarlett. A Mrs. Flora Anderson. Or perhaps she goes by Iris Hood. I admit I get a tad confused by the different names.”

Letty barely held in her gasp. Grandmother? It had to be a trick. Please, God. Let it be a trick.

“I escorted her from Queen City myself.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a hair comb. He held it up to the light as if to admire its fine design. Or to pierce the heart of the lady watching. For that tortoiseshell comb carried a familiar row of decorative knots along the top. Grandmother had worn such a comb in her hair nearly every day. Grandfather had given it to her as a gift when they courted. She would never have parted with it willingly.

“The poor lady is quite frail, I’m afraid. In fact, Mr. Radcliffe fears that if his niece fails to join them, Mrs. Anderson won’t live to see another day.”

Letty surged upward from her crouched position behind the fern at the edge of the hall. She quickly sheathed her knife, dropped it into her skirt pocket, then strode into the front entryway. “I’ll go.”

“Letty! No!” Her mother spun toward her, distress crashing through her icy composure.

Despite her mother’s rebuke, not a single hesitation fluttered in Letty’s heart. For that organ was inexorably tied to the woman who had raised her, loved her, and supported her for the last fifteen years. Grandmother had been her entire world—her family, her mentor, her friend. Yes, her uncle was using her love for Grandmother as leverage and likely planned to kill them both, but if Letty didn’t go, he’d kill Grandmother for certain, and she’d not be able to live with the stain that result would leave on her conscience.

Uncle Drake wasn’t the only one with a plan, she reminded herself as she strode forward to meet the scavenger eyeing her in triumph. The Lord had one, too, and the burst of conviction that had pushed her out of hiding felt like his guidance. She prayed she wasn’t mistaken.