Chapter 14

Lucian had first feared that Eliza now believed in the magic of a voodoo doll and would not have been surprised if she had. Of everyone he knew, she had the largest imagination and no doubt gave serious consideration to the possibility that it could be true.

However, he did agree with her on using the doll to punish the man who had been sending her missives. Except, if anyone was going to do anything, it was going to be Lucian when the man was finally caught, and the punishment would come from his fists, though he did not tell Eliza his intentions.

“Perhaps I should leave England and travel to New Orleans.”

His stomach tightened for but a moment, but Lucian could not understand why. One would think that he’d be happy to have her gone. He’d already admitted that she was a temptation that would upset his orderly world. Yet, he wasn’t ready for her to leave yet. “To visit your brother?” he finally asked.

“It sounds like a fascinating place. Oliver has written of tales of ghosts and vampires, believed to be real, and the different superstitions and religions.”

“I now understand your fascination,” Lucian chuckled. “But I thought you stopped believing in vampires.”

“I believe that almost anything is possible and that there is always a small bit of truth in every belief, fable, or story.”

“So, you wish to go to New Orleans and hunt for ghosts or vampires.”

“Why not?” she asked with a grin. “Besides, if I disappear, the person who is following me will not know where I’ve gone.”

Unless he follows close enough and manages to book passage on the same ship.

That was a thought Lucian did not share with Eliza. She’d have no escape from the man then and she’d be vulnerable for the weeks that it took to cross the ocean. It wouldn’t matter that there were dozens of sailors on board, or Stella and Saul. There would be nowhere that she could hide. However, if she did decide to book passage, he would warn her of the possibility so that she could take the danger into consideration.

“Perhaps it is something I will do after I have finished the novel that I am writing.”

“Well, as fascinating as voodoo, ghosts, and vampires are, I did come to ask you a question,” he said. “Did you keep all the letters you received from this anonymous person?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Why?”

“I would like to read them. I thought if we put some thought to the matter that we might be able to determine who he is.”

“I have already attempted to do so.”

“I am certain that you have,” he quickly responded. The last thing Lucian wanted to do was insult Eliza, which would lead to yet another argument.

Would the two of them ever go more than a few hours without a heated discussion?

Not likely, he answered himself.

“Sometimes a different perspective can be gained from someone new,” he offered.

Eliza tilted her chin and studied him, before she gave a nod. “It is possible.”

“How long have you been receiving them?”

She pursed her lips. “They began around Easter.”

“Since the beginning of the Season?” he confirmed.

“Yes.”

“Given all of Society was arriving in London at that time, it does not help in narrowing down the suspects.”

“We know it is a man,” she offered.

Actually, that was not a certainty. Lucian simply assumed it was a man because the missives, especially the last with the dead flowers spoke of a romantic interest. Though, he supposed it could be a woman, though unlikely because whoever it is, was also free to follow Eliza to Greenhaven Cottage. Few women had such freedom and the only man who could travel as he wished would be a lord, or son of a lord with little responsibility, not someone who was employed, which still was no assistance in narrowing down who could be sending the missives.

“Could you retrieve them for me?” he asked.

Eliza gathered the documents that she had brought outside and took them in and returned a moment later with the letters.

“They are in the order of when they were received.”

Lucian lifted the first letter. I prefer you in green, not yellow, as you wore to the MacGregor luncheon. “Do you recall who was at that luncheon?” he asked.

“No. I was not there long myself,” Eliza answered.

“You could write and ask who was in attendance. It would at least provide you with a list of names,” he suggested and wondered why she hadn’t already.

“What if he wasn’t a guest, but lurking in the shadows, like he does now?”

There was that possibility. “You will not know until you have a list and then can see if a name is often repeated as evidence of who may have been watching you.”

Eliza pursed her lips. “I suppose I can do so.”

He set it aside and picked up the next. I see you prefer lemon drops to caramel charms. “Do you recall anyone being around when you purchased lemon drops before you received his missive?”

“No. Lady Victoria and I had been shopping when those were purchased. It was a bright and pleasant day and many people were strolling and shopping,” Eliza answered. “I also didn’t receive the letter until nearly a sennight after I had made the purchase.”

What little evidence he had, Lucian was convinced that the man was of privilege and not in trade or a servant given where those encounters had taken place.

He lifted the next letter. Did you have a nice time picking out hair ribbons? “Do you have any recollection who may have been present when you were looking at ribbons?” he asked.

“This is one of the missives that has me confused.”

“Why?” Lucian answered.

“I have not shopped for hair ribbons this year. I cannot recall the last time that I did, but it has likely been at least five years.”

He frowned. “Five years since you have purchased a ribbon?”

“I no longer wear hair ribbons, Lord Garretson. Those are for younger women.”

Except, he had noticed women older than Eliza wearing hair ribbons.

“I outgrew hair ribbons even if others have not,” she added. “I prefer combs or pins when arranging my hair.”

“Perhaps he was mistaken as to what you were shopping for,” Lucian offered as it was the only explanation that he could think of.

The next letter made him frown further. It is so easy to slip when walking too close to a lake. “When did you fall into a lake and where was it?” he asked.

Eliza stared at him. “I have only fallen into a lake once. Here.”

A chill swept down his spine.

“Only three people know of that incident.” Him, Eliza and her brother.

“Could it be a servant within your household?” Eliza’s grey eyes widened as she realized what she had suggested and quickly looked around.

For a moment Lucian considered that perhaps it was someone he employed but dismissed the very idea. When would any of them have had the opportunity to be present when Eliza purchased lemon drops, or looked at ribbons? As he had not attended the MacGregor luncheon, there would have been no reason why any of his servants would have been there either. Which he explained to her.

This was most puzzling and disturbing.

The events referenced so far took place over ten years. Had this person been watching her the entire time and finally got up the nerve to write? Has it been an infatuation that he has held on to all this time and it took him this long to approach?

We both enjoyed the walk in the garden that night. Did you enjoy the moon? Lucian looked over at Eliza and all she did was shrug.

“How many gardens have you walked in at night this past Season?”

“None,” she answered. “I cannot remember the last time that I did. Well, other than my parents’ home in London, or at the family estate, but those are too numerous to count.”

Someone was watching from the shadows. Lucian set the letter aside and took a drink of his lemonade as he scanned the portion of the estate he could see from the terrace. Were they being watched now?

He would need to remind his staff to be more alert than ever.

Lucian read the next missive. That was a beautiful petticoat you wore yesterday. “I assume, as with the garden, this could have been at any time.”

“If I knew which petticoat he referred to, I might be able to determine where and when he may have seen it, but as you can see, he did not say.

The next letter offered no further clue as to the identity of the sender. Do you think of me as often as I think of you?

“By the time this letter was received, they had been arriving regularly, at least once a sennight, and that was when I decided to take rooms at the Pulteney Hotel and dress and shield my face as a widow when coming and going.”

“You were frightened?” Lucian asked. At least she was showing some sense, but Lucian still feared that Eliza did not fully appreciate the potential threat.

“I was disturbed and did not like that someone knew where I was. Not necessarily fear.”

Of course she wouldn’t admit to fear. “How long before you received another letter?”

“It was at least a sennight, so I grew more comfortable that my ploy had worked.”

Lucian read the next two missives. I miss seeing you. Where have you gone? was the first.

“The second was received a sennight after the first.”

My dear, I hope you are not ill, and will await your return to Society.

“Another sennight later, he sent this one.”

You may have hidden yourself away, but I will not be deterred in finding you.

“The next was received in the same post with Rosemary’s invitation to the wedding.”

There is no place you can hide from me.

“The wedding gave me a reason to vacate London and that is when my brother insisted on finding a cottage in the country, which he rented in his name.”

“The missive you received the day I called, was that the first since settling into Greenhaven Cottage?”

“Yes.”

Lucian set that one aside and looked at the next. The earl did not look happy when he left. “When did you receive that one?”

Eliza frowned and picked it up and read. “I have no idea. I have not seen it before.”

Lucian turned to the footman who waited beside the terrace doors that led into the parlor where Eliza wrote. “Please tell Stella that I need to see her.”

“I will be quite cross if my servants are now hiding these letters from me.”

Lucian agreed. Eliza needed to be made aware of each letter—threat—no matter how uncomfortable it may make her.

“Yes, Lord Garretson,” Stella said as she stepped outside.

“When was this letter received?”

Stella took it from him and frowned as she read. “I have not seen this before.”

“Could Saul have opened it and placed it with the others?” Eliza asked.

“He would not do so,” Stella answered. “Each letter that arrives is given to you.” She dropped her chin. “Though we were hesitant with the first that arrived at Greenhaven Cottage because we had all hoped that you would be able to enjoy more freedom here without the fear of being watched.”

“I understand.” Eliza nodded. “Are you certain he would not keep it from you and me?”

“I am certain,” she answered.

“Which can only mean one thing, Eliza,” Lucian said. “He was in the house, knew where they were kept, added this missive to the bottom to be found.”

“I would not have seen it had you not wanted to read them.”

“It is possible this man may suffer from the delusion that you read them far more often than you do.”

“As one would letters received from a lover?” Eliza asked.

“My brother could better answer that question,” Lucian answered.

The only reason she had not destroyed the letters was because Stella had insisted. Once Eliza had read the missive, she added it to the stack and put it away where she did not have to see them. “I should burn each one,” she decided. “We will do so outside and hope that he sees and then he will know that I do not want them.”

“You cannot,” Stella insisted again. “We may need them if it is necessary to go to Bow Street, as I have told you from the beginning.”

“Do you fear your mistress is in danger?” Lucian asked.

“I have since the first letter was received. She has viewed them as harmless.”

“Only in the beginning,” Eliza insisted. “Though, it wasn’t until recently, and realizing how close he had been, did I truly become alarmed.”

“I am glad we are now here, where it is safe,” Stella announced and returned inside.

“I agree with Stella. They should not be destroyed.”

Eliza frowned. “Why not? If we cannot determine who wrote them, then Bow Street will not be able to either.”

“It would anger him,” Lucian answered.

“That matters not to me. Maybe if he sees me set them to flame, on this very terrace, he will go away.”

“Or he will come after you because nobody likes being rejected.”

Eliza settled back. That had not occurred to her. Would he strike out? Except… “Maybe that is what we need to do to finally catch him.”

“Not until the matter has been given more serious consideration.”

“Sometimes caution is not necessary to deliver a message,” Eliza argued, frustrated that this person had gained so much control of her life. Except, there was just enough concern that kept her in the house or near the house, which she hated.

“I am going to write to Xavier again,” Lucian announced. “He has studied behavior and the mind all these years.”

“Again?” she asked.

“After I was made aware of the letters, I wrote and asked his opinion. He has not yet responded.”

“You should not bother your brother and you should have asked my permission before you did so,” she informed him.

“It is only out of concern for your safety,” Lucian argued.

“He recently wed so we shall not bother him with this.”

Lucian stood. “All I will ask is that he give me his opinion on how best to proceed after I tell him what the letters contain and what incidents you believe he refers to. Only then will we decide if those letters should be burned.”

“We will decide nothing, Lord Garretson. I will.” Eliza stood and stomped into the house. Besides having someone watching that kept her a prisoner, she hated that Lucian was trying to take control by deciding that he would seek an outside opinion and dictating what she should and should not do. She knew what was best for herself and all decisions would be hers!

“What of your doll?” Lucian asked as he followed her inside. “Do you intend to leave it outside?”

“Yes. It needs to be cleansed by the sun.”

“For how long?” His chuckle fell between humor and condescension, which only fueled her irritation, especially since she did not have an answer. That had not been provided in the instructions Oliver sent along.

“When I decide it has been long enough.” With that she plopped down behind the desk and picked up a pencil. “If that will be all, I need to return to my novel.”

Lucian raised an eyebrow and shook his head then wandered from the room. Eliza rose to follow then shut the door behind him.

Irritating man!

Now what was she to do? She couldn’t work. Not until her hand was more rested, but she’d kicked him out of the parlor and if she left to go to her chamber then he would know that she had lied.

Blast!

Taking sheets from the top of the stack and a pencil, Eliza returned outside and settled at the table and poured more lemonade. She was safe out here so long as a footman stood guard. And, just because she could not write pages and pages of manuscripts, she could make small notes in the margins of the earlier version, so long as it was not too much writing.

This task occupied her for the rest of the afternoon, and she made much progress in her edits, which would save time when she returned to writing, and often returned inside for more pages of the manuscript. In fact, she did not stop working until it began to grow dark and a raindrop fell onto the parchment. She’d been so caught up in what she was doing, that Eliza hadn’t even noticed that a storm had moved in.

She quickly gathered her papers just before the wind began to blow then rushed to pick up the doll and returned inside. The footman followed with the tray of what was left of the lemonade and glasses. She closed the door behind him, and firmly locked it. She may not like being a prisoner of the estate, but she was not going to make it easy for anyone to enter either.