“Why? Money makes the world go ’round, after all.” Shelley glanced over his shoulder, not a care in the world. “I would like to have a moment before supper, so I shall leave you. Good evening.”

“Good evening,” Jasper muttered, troubled by the lack of concern the man showed. But perhaps he was right that Anne would make her return, a new husband in tow, soon enough.

He pushed those thoughts away, and the thoughts of Thomasina’s true terror when it came to Anne’s safety, and turned toward the still-drying contracts. He would have Reynolds collect them in a while and then it would all be finished. His future locked, once again, in stone.

He was about to turn and leave the room when Willard stepped into the parlor. “I’m sorry to disturb, my lord, but you have had a missive delivered and the messenger said to convey its importance to you.”

He held out a folded sheet of cheap vellum, and Jasper found his heart leapt at the look. This was about this Ellis person. This was about Anne. He knew it before he took the letter.

“Thank you,” he managed to mutter as he turned the message in his hand. “Tell Reynolds to join me as soon as he can. And close the door, please.”

Willard nodded and did as Jasper had asked. Once he was alone, Jasper turned the note over and looked at the seal. Cheap black wax held the pages shut, with an image of a man’s fine profile on the seal. He wrinkled his brow at the strange calling card and broke the wax.

There were no more than a dozen words slashed across the sheet in a wild hand. He read each one over and over, his heart sinking. He heard the door open behind him and held the letter toward the intruder without even waiting to see if it was Reynolds there to greet him.

“It is Ellis Maitland,” he said softly, his fears about Anne’s whereabouts as strong as ever.

Reynolds groaned, and the rustle of papers made Jasper straighten his shoulders.

“Make the horses ready when you’ve read that enough times for it to sink in. We have a meeting with this man in the morning over in Beckfoot, and I want to get there tonight to try to discover just what the hell is going on. And maybe, just maybe, get a leg up on the bastard.”

Thomasina stepped into the parlor where the families were to meet for their pre-supper drinks and small, private “celebration” of the new engagement. But she found there was no one in the room yet save for Lady Harcourt.

Jasper’s mother stood beside the window, staring out at black nothingness as she ran a finger along the edge of her glass. Thomasina’s heart leapt. She hadn’t spoken much to the woman since her arrival here. Lady Harcourt was more taciturn than even her son and Thomasina had never been able to read her. Anne had simply been terrified of her, going on and on about how cold and disconnected she was.