The Rightful Lord (The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor Book 3) by Sahara Kelly (13 ebook reader .TXT) 📕

Finally, they moved apart, both breathing a little faster.

“Tonight,” whispered Gwyneth.

“I might bring friends…” his eyebrow lifted wickedly.

“Please do,” she answered, knowing that heat was already unfurling low in her body at the thought.

“Now.” He pointed at the handkerchief. “What about this?”

Gathering her thoughts, she turned back to the table. “I’ve been examining the lace. Beautiful work, and so fragile. But I think I can see initials worked into the design. Or perhaps it’s just me hoping to find something…”

“Let me take a look.” Evan carefully picked up the square of linen and carried it to the window, bending over it as he turned it in the light.

“I have to agree, Gwyneth, this is exquisite work.” He moved his hand again, catching the weak sun. “And…perhaps, yes. I think I see a P…and definitely a W.”

“That’s what I thought as well,” she grinned, happy to have her assumptions confirmed. “Not that it helps, of course, since the house belonged to the Fairhurst family.”

He returned to the table and laid the handkerchief next to the scroll of letters. “True, but before they purchase it, there were other owners. Perhaps one of them had those initials?”

“Perhaps.” She pursed her lips as she considered the idea. “But how would we find out?”

“I’m not sure,” he answered. “I think we should probably refer that question to Royce.”

“Good idea,” she nodded. “And this is the best shortbread, Evan. I’m glad I get to enjoy it before the others arrive and clear the plate.”

He laughed. “A huge compliment, both from you, my Lady…” he bowed, “and from everyone else.”

Within moments, as if they had smelled the shortbread, Harry and Jeremy arrived, followed almost immediately by Gabriel. And, as had been predicted, the shortbread biscuits rapidly disappeared.

“Best leave a couple for Royce,” said Harry, sighing with pleasure as he washed his biscuit down with tea.

“A couple of what?” Royce walked in and immediately eyed the tea tray. “Shortbread. Evan, you must have read my mind.” He looked at the plate. “So kind of you all to leave me two.” He gazed around the room, eyebrow raised, lips curved in a cynical twist.

“I have another plate downstairs.” Evan grinned at him. “One has to be prepared in this house.”

“Good lad,” Royce clapped him on the shoulders. “I think I could eat everything on it right now.”

Royce sat as Evan disappeared toward the kitchen, only to return moments later with more shortbread, which he made sure to put right next to Royce’s elbow.

“Right then.” Harry wandered to what Gwyneth was coming to think of as the treasure table. “Where are we with these things?”

“I may have found initials in the lace of the handkerchief,” she said. “A P and a W. Evan thinks he sees them as well.”

“Interesting.” Royce looked on as the others took turns in scrutinising the delicate work.

After a little while, they all agreed that Gwyneth was right in her guess and that those two letters definitely formed part of the design.

“Well, at least we have found one fact,” she said. “Perhaps the scrolled letters will confirm it.”

Although they were all eager to explore their newly discovered treasure, the decision was made to wait until the evening, since there were chores that needed to be completed.

Gwyneth, more than ready to begin, hurried her gentlemen through their meal, her impatience obvious to them all.

“Go ahead, dear Lady,” chuckled Evan. “We’ll clear while you get everything ready for us in the parlour.”

She almost danced from the room, with a brilliant smile for each of them. “I will, thank you.”

So it was that not long after that, she sat in front of the small table staring at the discoloured papers that held words written centuries ago.

It was a tense moment for everyone; even Darcy sat quietly by the fire and watched her, his dark eyes on his mistress.

Jeremy looked at the scrolls. “They might be fragile,” he commented. “I have some clean white gloves here somewhere, that I keep for handling the fine china and silver. Let me see…” He turned to a small bureau near the fireplace and began opening drawers.

As he did so, Gwyneth asked Royce about his meeting and the conversation turned to Wolfbridge matters. She listened, happy that he sounded confident and pleased with the way the day had gone.

Gabriel made them all laugh when he inquired if there was a possibility of harvesting mice for some sort of profit, because by God he and Jeremy had rounded up at least a hundred or so.

“And the barn cat won’t need to eat for a week,” added Jeremy, returning with a pair of tin gloves. He handed them to Gwyneth. “Here, my Lady. Your touch will probably be the most delicate and we don’t want to damage anything…”

Everyone drew their chairs around the table, as Gwyneth covered her hands.

“All right, then. Here we go.”

*~~*~~* 

Royce watched her face as she carefully untied the faded ribbon and lay it to one side, her expression intent, her hands steady.

Jeremy had taken the other pieces and put them on the mantel to give her room, and she gently began to unfurl the rolled papers.

“Can someone give me something to weigh down the top?” She kept her eyes on the sheets, one hand holding them flat.

“Here.” Gabriel passed her a shell, smooth and white, that had stood with several others on the bookcase shelves.

“Perfect,” she breathed.

The room was silent but for the popping and crackling of the logs on the fire.

“Well,” she muttered, gently removing the first piece of ancient paper. “Interesting.”

“What is it?” Harry asked quietly.

“A letter.” She paused. “I think they’re all letters. Or notes. This one is directed to My Beloved.” She