Stolen Love Read Free

to extract the letter. "This." She held it out. "I think it's from my husband, and I need to know if I can keep it." She waited until he looked up from the page. "There was money with it," she said, "but if it was stolen, I want no part of it!"
    "How much money?" He regarded her intently.
    "A fortune, sir," the woman whispered.
    The officer looked at her, the child in her arms, the boy by her side shifting on nervous feet. "When did you last see your husband?"
    "Last was over a year ago, and not a word since."
    He shook his head. "Ma'am, this isn't from your husband." His fingers smoothed the expensive paper. "The letter says you are to keep the money, spend it however you like."
    She took the paper back. "Who? Who is it from?" she asked.
    "He wishes to remain anonymous, ma'am. But if you want my advice, you take that money and move as far away from St. Giles as you can get."
CHAPTER 4
    « ^ »
     
    "
Bon soir, Monsieur Villines
!" The clerk at the Hôtel des Fleurs smiled as Nicholas approached the desk.
    "
Bon soir, Jean-Marc. Comment vas-tu ce soir
?" Nicholas's French was flawless, and that, combined with his tendency to overtip, made him Jean-Marc's favorite Englishman.
    "
Ça va bien, "
he said, handing over the key to Nicholas's suite along with a letter that had arrived earlier in the day. Jean-Marc had arranged to work past his usual time in order to deliver the letter personally. Mr. Villines tipped extra when he had a letter from this woman. He was not disappointed: five francs this time.
    The first thing Nicholas did when he reached his rooms and had given Mr. Chester his coat was sit down and read the letter. It had taken nearly six weeks to reach him. He'd been traveling for almost that long, and the letter had been sent first to Rome, then Naples and
Pompeii before finally arriving in Paris. He smiled while he read, then sat back and read the letter again. "Elizabeth is in London," he said, taking the glass of brandy from the salver Mr. Chester presented to him.
    "With Mrs. Villines, sir?" asked Mr. Chester, meaning Nicholas's aunt Winifred.
    "No. The Willards are staying in London for the season, it seems."
    The friendship between the Willards and the Villineses was long-standing, Mary Willard and Winifred Villines having gone to school together. The Willards had only one child, Amelia, who had been an immensely pretty girl the last time Nicholas had seen her some three or four years ago. No doubt the Willards were in London to find her a husband. Elizabeth Willard was their niece. Though her father was alive, he'd sent her off to live with his brother soon after she was born and had, so far as anyone knew, made no effort to see her since.
    Though Nicholas was almost seven years older than Elizabeth, the difference in their ages had not prevented them from becoming friends. When he first met the Willards the year after his mother's death, he and Elizabeth had been constant companions during the summers and holidays the families spent together. He had a special fondness for Elizabeth. She was fearless (unlike her cousin) and clever (very unlike her cousin), hardly like a girl at all, as it seemed to him then. It was flattering how she adored him, and even when he was too old to play games with her, he would still take her on his knee to tell her stories and to do the magic tricks she begged him to perform for her. Mrs.
Willard had discouraged Elizabeth's tomboyish streak while Nicholas had done his best to encourage it because he could not bear to think of her simpering about like Amelia.
    When he moved to Cambridge to attend university, he continued his subversion of her via the post. He had become committed to saving Elizabeth from her aunt after he took her to an afternoon concert for her thirteenth birthday. The orchestra had performed a selection of Haydn and van Beethoven. Elizabeth had sat very quietly through the Haydn, never moving her gloved hands from her lap. The van Beethoven was last, and it