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Wesley needed to make a plan.

Chapter Fifteen

Millie stared at the fourth letter, the latest addition, lying open on the writing desk in her room beside her winter gloves. It was Monday afternoon—two days since Wesley had put his lips to her forehead and driven butterflies through her entire body—and she had come up to her bedchamber to dress warmly so she could join the others ice skating on the pond. When she opened her door, a letter awaited her—same blue wax, same floral seal.

This one caused her stomach to swirl with discomfort, not the excitement the previous three had. The promising nature of a secret admirer had begun to dim as he continued to hide his identity.

Miss Hollis⁠—

You are the first thing I think of when I wake in the morning and the final thing I think of as I fall asleep. I can only hope you are thinking of me, too.

—Your true admirer

Had he stepped into her room himself and looked at the place where she slept every night as he placed the letter on the mantel? For the first time since she began to receive the secret notes, she somewhat feared for her safety. To send an unmarried woman letters was already placing her reputation in jeopardy. To speak freely of sleep…of the place she laid in bed? That was too inappropriate by half.

She balked at the thought of anyone entering her chamber as she slept, save for Betty. But this man was no trusted maid.

Perhaps her door had a lock on it she had not yet noticed.

Millie crossed to the door and opened it to examine from every angle. The keyhole was on the inside as well, so that was good. But there was no⁠—

“Millie?” Wesley said, stepping from his room as she bent over the lock. He wore a thick greatcoat over his clothes, a pair of leather gloves in his hand and a hat nestled on his head, covering his soft curls. “Is something wrong?”

She could trust him. She knew this. By the way he had admitted his feelings to her in the mausoleum a few days ago, she knew he was not the man writing the letters.

Besides, Wesley’s handwriting looked nothing like the anonymous admirer’s script.

“I was looking to see if my door could be locked without a key.”

Wesley straightened, shutting his door with a thud, and crossed toward her at once. “Are you feeling unsafe?”

“No, not exactly. It is only that…well, there was another letter.” She took a step back, afraid to stand too close to Wesley. Since the moment he had touched her cheek and pressed his lips to her forehead, she had been able to think of little else. If he drew too near, she was not certain what madness might overcome her.

“A threatening one?” he asked.

“No.”

“What is it that has changed?”

“He speaks of…sleeping.” She said the last word in a whisper.

A murderous expression crossed Wesley’s face. “What exactly did he imply?”

“Nothing terrible. Only—well, come inside and read it for yourself.” Millie strode to her writing desk and picked up the letter, holding it out for him.

Wesley followed at a slower pace, leaving her door wide open. He read the contents of the note and looked at her again. “How was he able to write this?”

“The same way he has written the others, I suppose.”

Wesley shook his head, turning the letter over to display the broken seal. “Millie, I have the wax stamp in my room.”

She blinked at him. He had kept it? “Why did you not return it to the library?”

“I had hoped if he was forced to use a different stamp, it might offer another clue.”

“But it is the same.” Her stomach rolled. “I have an uneasy feeling about this.”

Wesley put the letter on the desk.