Page 23 of A Dangerous Engagement

Philip heard a door open. He waited a moment, then stuck his head out to see who it was.

Miss Felicity Mayson walked to the staircase and started down. He waited another moment and followed her.

She passed by the breakfast room without slowing down and headed for the large entryway on the ground level of the great house. She seemed to be holding something in her hand, perhaps a letter, as she turned the corner out of sight.

He continued the rest of the way down the steps and turned the same corner—and nearly ran into Miss Mayson herself.

“Oh, pardon me,” she said, her eyes wide and her hand over her heart.

“Forgive me, Miss Mayson, for nearly colliding with you. I was not looking where I was going.”

“Of course. Now I must go ... look in on my aunt. Good morning to you, Mr.Merrick.”

“Good morning.” He waited until she continued on her way, then went to see what she had gone into the entry hall for.

A stack of letters lay on a salver on the small table, waiting to be posted. Philip picked them up. There were only three, and the one in the middle was addressed to Mrs.Robert Mayson of Grosvenor Street, London.

He took Miss Mayson’s letter and slipped it into his pocket, turned, and went back upstairs to his room.

He fetched his knife and heated the tip of the blade over a candle flame. Then he carefully pried the wax seal up around the edges until it popped off.

He unfolded the letter and read it quickly.

Dear Mother,

I do not wish to alarm you, but I need you to send Father and the carriage at once to take Aunt Agnes and me home. I don’t want to say too much in a letter, but there is danger here, and I’m very afraid.

I have become engaged to Mr.Ratley, but it seems he and Lady Blackstone, much to my horror, have involved themselves in an insurrection, a revolution against the law of the land, against Parliament, and even against the king himself. I am afraid for my life if they find I have written this letter or that I am not loyal to their cause. Please come quickly to save Auntie and me.

Your faithful daughter,

Felicity

What a dangerous letter to have written and left in plain sight!

He tapped his fingers against his leg as he imagined what Lady Blackstone and the others would do to the poor innocent girl if they found this letter. And they certainly would have seen it and taken it and opened it, just as he had done.

They would have killed her immediately—gone to her room, given her poison, then paid the doctor to say she died of natural causes.

He held one corner of the letter over the candle and let the flame catch the paper on fire. He made sure it was completely burned, dropping the last corner, which contained no writing, onto the brass candleholder.

The poor girl. What she must be going through, what terror and regret she must feel. His heart crashed against his chest at how close she had come to getting herself killed.

What could he do to help her? He could not jeopardize his mission by rescuing her and taking her away from here. No, he must simply warn her not to write any more letters like that and to be careful what she said.

Philip opened his window and fanned toward it to remove the smell of burning paper, and he considered how he would accomplish the dangerous task of speaking privately with Miss Mayson.

Felicity couldn’t stop thinking about the letter she’d left downstairs on the table near the front door. Would Mr.Ratley and Lady Blackstone read it? What would they do to her?

Felicity sat at her desk trying to study her Chinese text. But the more she thought about that letter, the more her stomach churned and her hands turned cold and damp.

Auntie had stayed up late the night before reading and so was still asleep. Felicity closed her book and stood. She put on her heaviest redingote, as the weather had turned much colder, took her bonnet, and left the room.

She stopped herself from wringing her hands. She tied her bonnet ribbons under her chin as she headed outdoors.

Felicity took a turn about the garden, following the hedgerows and the little path that led through the less formal part of the garden. Finally, she sat down on a bench beside a wall that was covered in rose vines, leaned forward, and closed her eyes.

What had she done wrong? Accepting an invitation from a distant relative she didn’t know very well? That was more her mother’s mistake than her own, although she could have refused her mother’s wish. Accepting a marriage proposal from a man she had only just met? But even if she had not engaged herself to him, she and Aunt Agnes would still be in this terrifying situation. Still, it certainly did not help that she had accepted him. If she’d unequivocally refused him, he and Lady Blackstone might have let her leave this place without ever revealing their true plans.