Chapters (71)
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Part One
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Part Two
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Part Three
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Part Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Part Five
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Books by Barbara Taylor Bradford
- About the Author
- Newsletter Sign-up
Turnbull pulled out the chair in the middle of the round table, and asked, “Shall I pour a cup of tea for you, m’lord?”
“Yes, do that, please, Turnbull. But I would prefer a light breakfast this morning. Just scrambled eggs and toast. That’s about it, I think.”
“Yes, m’lord.” Turnbull went to the sideboard and lifted the lid off a silver tureen, put the eggs on a plate, took it to the table, brought a plate of toast, then poured the tea. He worked with quick precision as he always did, knowing Lord Lassiter was in a hurry.
After thanking the butler, Robert asked, “What’s the weather like today, not our perpetual summer rain, I hope?”
“It’s a nice day, m’lord. Sunny in fact.” Turnbull cleared his throat and stepped over to a small table next to the door. He picked up a small silver tray with an envelope on it and carried it to the table. “This envelope was delivered earlier this morning, sir.” As he spoke, he offered the tray.
Robert looked at the butler and raised a dark brow. “Who delivered it, Turnbull? Any idea?”
“No, Lord Lassiter, I’m afraid I don’t. It was pushed through the letter box.”
Taking the envelope, Robert said, “Thank you, Turnbull. I’ll ring if I need you.”
“Yes, m’lord,” he answered, and departed.
Ignoring the food, Robert slit the envelope with his knife and quickly read the note. It was from Colin Wilson, his new estate manager, who was due in London today, and his eyes widened as he read. Following his instructions, Wilson had written to inform him that Lady Lassiter had left Bolton Manor yesterday morning. Not for her parents’ estate in nearby Skipton as planned, but for Switzerland. She was traveling with a lady friend, and had not been accompanied by O’Brien, her lady’s maid, the Irish girl they’d brought over with them, nor by their sons.
Bloody hell, Robert thought, as he digested the information. I did not foresee this—but perhaps my wife, without knowing it, has just made everything simpler.
Thirty-Eight
When he had finished his breakfast, Robert went into the library. Seated at his large Georgian desk, he took the note from Wilson out of his pocket and read it again. Then he glanced over at the carriage clock on the mantelpiece. He had an hour before Wilson arrived, bringing him the accounts for the Yorkshire estate. He was grateful to have this intelligent and innovative man working for him.