A Dangerous Game (Regency Spies & Secrets Book 2) by Laura Beers (well read books .txt) 📕

“But fifteen thousand is a small fortune.”

“It is, but you need not worry about your future,” Oliver asserted. “I have sufficient funds for us to live comfortably for the rest of our days.”

Emmeline nibbled her lower lip. “I don’t want to sell Lockhart Manor,” she admitted. “Is that selfish of me?”

“Not at all,” he replied. “Your father left you this property in his will.”

“My uncle said it was to spite him.”

“Do you believe that?”

She shook her head. “I do not,” she replied. “My father was not one to hold a grudge. At least, I thought he wasn’t.”

“What do you mean by that?”

She sighed. “What if I didn’t know my father at all?” she asked. “What if my uncle is right, and my father was a despicable person?”

“Because he lost money at a gambling hell?” Oliver asked with a frown.

“Not just for that reason, but my uncle said he was also ruthless in business.”

Oliver shifted in his seat to face her. “What do you believe to be true, Emme?” he asked.

She grew silent before saying, “I don’t believe my father was like that. He was kind, loving, and he treated others with compassion.”

“Then hold on to those memories of your father,” he encouraged. “Don’t let your uncle taint your father’s memory, especially since losing money at a gambling hell does not make someone a scoundrel.”

“You are right.”

He smirked. “You will find that I generally am,” he joked. “It is a curse that I must deal with.”

A soft laugh escaped her lips, and she brought her hand up to cover her mouth.

“I enjoy hearing you laugh,” Oliver remarked.

“The feeling is mutual.”

Oliver watched her intently before abruptly rising. “It is late, and I should let you go to bed,” he said, his words sounding hoarse.

“Thank you for making me feel better,” she remarked, looking up at him.

“That is what a dutiful husband does,” Oliver teased.

She watched as he stopped at the open door and spun back around. “Did you tell anyone about the smugglers?” he asked.

“I told my lady’s maid,” she replied. “Was I wrong in doing so?”

“Is your lady’s maid trustworthy?”

Emmeline nodded. “She is.”

“Does she have any connections to Whitstable that you are aware of?”

“Not that I know of.” She eyed him curiously. “Why do you ask?”

Oliver grew solemn as he said, “A member of our household staff may have tipped off the smugglers, allowing them time to move the smuggled goods.”

“Who would do such a thing?”

“I am not sure, but I intend to find out.” He gave her a brief smile. “Good night, Wife.”

After the door was closed, Emmeline removed the white wrapper and draped it over the back of the settee, then went to her bed and slipped between the covers.

As she laid in bed, she hoped there would be a time when Oliver would love her as much as she loved him. Because she did love him. Desperately.

She must have drifted off, because she awoke suddenly sometime later.

Emmeline sat up in her bed and saw the drapes drifting in the breeze next to an open window. The fire had gone out, and the only light came from the moonlight streaming through the windows.

She hadn’t recalled opening a window before going to bed, but perhaps Mary had after she had helped her undress for the evening. She laid back down on her pillow and stared up at the darkened ceiling. Something felt off, but she couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

A creaking sound caused her to sit up again in alarm. She hadn’t imagined that. Her eyes roamed the room, looking for any sign of an intruder. But there was no place for someone to hide that would escape her notice.

She tossed off her covers and put her feet over the edge of the bed. She went to stand when she felt something clasp just above her right foot, and was yanked back with such force that she fell to the ground with a thud.

In the next moment, a burly man sat on top of her, forced her onto her back, and shoved a pillow over her face, muffling her screams. She started scratching at the man’s arms, but it did little to relieve the pressure. The weight of the man prevented her from moving around, and her attempts to free herself were becoming more feeble.

Just when she was about to succumb to the darkness, she heard a door slam open and the sound of a pistol discharging.

The pressure of the pillow let up, and she felt the man slump to the side. She tossed the pillow off her face just as Oliver dragged the man off her.

She sat up, gasping, as someone pounded at her door, followed by Grubbs shouting, “Are you all right, milady?”

Oliver laid the man down and walked over to the door. He opened it to reveal the butler and footmen huddled around the door. “Her Ladyship was attacked by an intruder, but I was able to shoot him before he killed her,” he announced. “I want you to send for the constable.”

Grubbs nodded as his eyes met Emmeline’s. “Yes, milord. I will send a footman at once,” he said. “Will there be anything else?”

“Not at this time,” Oliver replied, “but I must tend to my wife.”

“I will leave a footman outside your door should you require anything,” Grubbs informed him.

Oliver closed the door and turned towards her. “Are you all right?” he asked, the concern in his voice evident.

She shook her head. “No,” she replied.

He closed the distance between them and crouched down next to her. “Did the attacker say anything to you?”

“He did not,” she replied. “He attacked me the moment I got out of bed and put a pillow over my face.” She let out a shaky breath. “I couldn’t breathe, Oliver.”

He reached out and pulled her into his arms. “You are safe now,” he murmured softly against her hair. “He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Is he dead?”

She could feel him nod. “I shot him in the head,”