“Is that a threat?” She bit the words out through clenched teeth.
“Not at all.” He grinned, but it wasn’t the least bit friendly. “Merely an observation of things to come.”
“Good evening, Mr. Harvey.” Without another word—as much as she hated him and all he stood for, she wasn’t willing to make Harvey an enemy—she strode out of the room with Able close behind her.
“Thank you for intervening,” she whispered once they’d walked far enough down the hallway to not be overheard.
Able made a grumbling noise in the back of his throat. “I’ve never liked that man. Don’t trust him.”
“You and me both.” She opened the door leading to the servants’ quarters in the back of the house and paused to make sure no one followed them. Closing the door behind them after Able had stepped inside, she said, “He wants Victoria House.”
Able drew in a sharp breath through his nose. “He won’t get it.” The light of the electric wall sconce reflected off his medium-brown skin, revealing a brow that was smooth and not furrowed in worry. His dark eyes were calm. Quiet and sensible, he’d become the barometer against which she measured the scope of their problems. There wouldn’t be reason to worry until he was worried.
Nodding her agreement, she said, “It’s nothing we haven’t faced before.” A couple of years ago they’d faced a similar threat, only this one had been a group of investors looking to purchase the place from her at a value far below market. Little had they known that Able was part owner and any decision she made would have to be corroborated by him. Once they’d found out they’d resorted to force instead of seduction. In the end, they’d dealt with those men and she had confidence that Harvey could be handled as well.
“Is everything else going well?” she asked.
“Fine. We’re a little busier because of the faro tournament across the road, but everyone is behaving themselves.”
“In that case, I’ll go get a little work done in my study and give Harvey some time to leave. Let me know if I’m needed.” Able agreed, and Glory took the back stairs up to her study on the mansion’s third floor. The top floor was private. Her apartment was attached to her study and the other ladies who lived at Victoria House full-time had rooms there. It wasn’t decorated quite as ostentatiously as the rest of the house. The wall color was a soft cream with a blue-and-gold runner softening her steps in the hallway. Each door boasted a wreath or some other decorative trinket that reflected the resident’s personality. In short, this floor felt like home and was a respite from the bustle of the rest of the house.
Up here the William Harveys of the world felt far away. Glory let out a breath, already anticipating the nice long soak in her bathtub she’d take when the evening was over. It seemed like the nights were getting longer, or maybe she was simply getting older. She’d be thirty in a couple of years, which didn’t seem particularly old, but this wasn’t where she’d imagined herself at this point. Life was strange in that way. Nothing ever seemed to happen the way she meant for it to happen, but she’d learned that it could still be good. She had about a million things to be thankful for, not the least of which were security and independence. It was more than she’d had a decade ago.
She was smiling when she approached her study, but the smile faltered when she realized that the door wasn’t latched. A gentle nudge revealed that her assistant’s desk sat empty. Glory turned on the wall sconce to reveal that no one was in the antechamber at all. How odd. Charlotte, her assistant, always closed up when she finished her work for the evening. A stack of correspondence ready to post the next morning sat on the corner of Charlotte’s small desk, exactly as she’d left them. It was possible that Charlotte had forgotten to lock up, but a strange sense of foreboding made her stomach tumble.
Glory took in a deep breath, consciously avoiding looking across the room at the door that led to her study. Glory was the only person with a key to that door. If it was open then it meant that someone had broken in and she’d have to face that her sanctuary wasn’t really a sanctuary at all. But she was being silly. Of course it was locked. To prove it to herself she put her hand into the hidden pocket of her skirt and wrapped her fingers around the warm metal of the key. It was still safely with her. Charlotte had simply forgotten to close the door to the hallway.
Her heart pounding, she turned toward her door. It was mercifully closed. An exhale of relief left her feeling deflated and weak. She put a hand on the corner of Charlotte’s desk to keep her balance. Even after all these years she was wary of any irregularity. She knew all too well how quickly life could come crashing down with very little warning.
There was no light coming from beneath her door and no sound came from within her study. No one had been inside. She knew that, but her heart resumed its pounding as she approached the door with her key in hand. The cool metal of the latch chilled her palm and she gave it a quick turn to test the lock. Her key held useless in her other hand, the door latch made a clicking sound as it unlatched. She gave a little push and the door creaked, swinging open to reveal the interior of her office. Moonlight flooded in through the windows facing the street, spilling onto the carpeted floor. No one was inside, but nevertheless she moved forward cautiously.
As soon as her feet crossed the threshold she saw it. It was a square piece of parchment sitting in the middle of her tidy desk, and it seemed to have a nearly ethereal glow in the moonlight. It had not been there when she’d left earlier in the evening.
Turning on the electric sconce on the wall didn’t help. The white parchment lost its glow, but it didn’t seem any less dangerous. It hadn’t been sent by post. There was no envelope, no markings at all. She crossed to her desk, watching the note as if it were a living thing that could jump out and grab her at any moment. Blood pounded through her head, filling her ears with its roar. Somehow her life would change when she read that letter. She just knew it. Good things rarely came along unexpectedly.
Her fingers trembled when she reached for it. The stiff paper was cool under her touch, barely crinkling as she sucked in a deep breath and flipped it open. The first five words on the page jumped out at her, sending a shard of terror straight through her heart.
I know who you are.
Zane Pierce tossed back the last of the whiskey in his tumbler and rose from his stool at the bar. The woman tending the bar gave him a smile as she picked up the glass and wiped the mahogany beneath it to a shine. “Fancy some company later tonight?”
Penelope was naturally pretty in a quiet way that wasn’t very outrageous. Even with the kohl lining her eyes and her reddened lips, she gave off an air that was almost wholesome. As if she could just as easily be teaching Sunday school at a church across town instead of working at Victoria House. Some men seemed to like that. Since Zane had been around for the past week, he’d noticed a few of the patrons asking to take her upstairs, but she’d turned them all down. Maybe she didn’t “work upstairs,” the code he’d learned referred to the prostitutes who worked on the second floor. Hell, he might’ve even been interested at one time.
He glanced across the length of the dining room to the door through which Glory had recently disappeared. She’d made it clear when she’d allowed him to have a room a week ago that taking refuge in Victoria House meant that her women were off-limits. The castration that would result probably wasn’t worth it, he mused.
“I don’t think Miss Winters would appreciate that.” That was only part of the reason. In reality it was a gentle way to let Penelope down, because the only woman he was interested in was Glory. The truth was that Glory Winters was the only woman who’d caught his interest in a long time.
They’d known each other for a couple of years now and had spent that entire time circling each other. He could probably count on one hand the times they’d spoken.