Lady Phillipa's Peril: Regency Romance Suspense Series ( Book 3) (Lords of Sussex 4) Read Free

in the ewer.  She could freshen up before having a rest. Seeing her portmanteau placed on the trunk at the foot of her bed, she crossed over, unpacking her brushes, combs, hairpins and creams. Taking out a couple of hairpieces for evening wear, she hung them from a hook on the dressing table. As she placed the brushes down on the embroidered linen cloth, she saw a sealed letter with her name on it.  Frowning, she picked it up, who would write to her here? Turning it over she saw the seal had no imprint. Opening it, Phillipa gasped, stepping back; surely this was some joke? If so it was in the worst taste. Again her eyes scoured the message, ‘Marry at your peril.’

Chapter 3
     
    Running out of her room, she knocked on Hector’s door. As he opened it, she saw him already dressed in a maroon silk banyan. ‘Hector, look, this was on my dressing table.’
         With raised eyebrows, he motioned her into the room, taking the offensive missive from her.  Reading it, he frowned, ‘Hmm, what fatwit wrote this?’
    ‘Tis a threat Hector.’
    ‘Bag of moonshine. Ignore it my love.’
    ‘Hmm, could it be some jealous lover of yours?’ Phillipa said in an accusatory tone, how could he dismiss it so easily.
    ‘Fustion nonsense. You’re the only one for me m’dear.’
    ‘Well, I like it not Hector. Maybe we should show this to your mama.’
    ‘Nay, I think we should keep this to ourselves my love. Tis only some dicked in the nob half-wit. Don’t need to put mama in a dudgeon.  She has enough to do with the nuptials. Leave it with me m’dear. Such nonsense.’
    Watching her leave the room, he picked up the missive, and left his bedroom, making his way downstairs to his study. Closing the door behind him, he went to his desk and pulled out some parchment. For some minutes he wrote, his brow furrowed.  Summoning his valet, he ordered him to close the door. ‘I have a task for you Simpkins. Firstly, this must be kept in the strictest confidence. Not a nod or a word to your pal the butler, d’you understand? This could be a matter of life or death.’
    The valet bowed, pointedly putting his leg forward in a pronounced bow. In haughty tones he said, ‘Of course m’lud, how would it be otherwise?’ His   pursed lips and raised eyebrows showed his distaste at the order to keep a confidence. Just because he was rather new to his post, did not mean he had a loose tongue.
    ‘Glad to hear it my man. Now I want you to take this message to Superintendent John Talbot, Bow Street, put this letter into his hand and await his reply. There must be no delay. You understand?’
    ‘Certainly m’lud. You may depend upon me. I shall depart post haste.’ Bowing, he left the room, a determined look on his delicate features.
    On his  departure, Hector paid a visit to the armoury, deep in the basement of the manor.  After ensuring he was quite alone, he unlocked a cabinet taking out a selection of pistols and knives. He would guard Phillipa with his life. 
    Phillipa sat on the settee by the window, what would drive someone to write such a note? Was this the work of a jealous mistress? Was Hector dallying with someone? In a way she hoped he was, perhaps even now he would call off the wedding. But no, he was a Corinthian from head to toe; he was more interested in his horses, racing, pugilism and cards than women. His eyes rarely roved to another female. And if so, t’was only a fleeting glance, after all a fine pair of bosoms was tempting to any red blooded male.
    Sighing she rose from her seat, dread filling her once more. She should be looking forward to the wedding, excited with the coming celebrations, but lately she felt a sense of doom. She loved Hector dearly, but as a brother, a beloved friend. Betrothed almost at birth, by their mothers who were close friends, she and Hector were groomed for this alliance. At the time it seemed appropriate, the two estates would be joined bringing more land and power to the families.