The Secret Rose Read Online Free PDF Page B

closed. “Why don’t you and I seek shelter for the night at the Journeyman’s Inn? We shall come again in the morning when Miss Langdon has had time to rest.”
    “No,” Abigail argued. “I don’t need your help.” She gave Cambridge a look she prayed held more ferocity than fear.
    “That may be so, Miss Langdon, but our business is far from concluded. Unless I failed to make myself clear, you know I have no intention of leaving here empty-handed. Sydney,” Cambridge said, moving toward the door, “I have some business I would like to discuss with you. Perhaps over dinner?”
    The solicitor bobbed his head in eager anticipation. “We will return in the morning, Miss Langdon.” Sydney looked over his shoulder as they turned to leave. “And I am so pleased the earl’s brother is here to see you through this trying time. How fortunate for you.”
    Abigail clutched her fists to the cushions on the sofa and gripped tightly until she heard the closing of the front door. Cambridge wanted what she could not give him.
    Cold, gnarled fingers wrapped around her heart, squeezing the very life from inside her. She paced the room, desperation welling within her, then she raced across the foyer, toward the door.
    “Palmsworth!”
    “Yes, mistress.”
    “Have the carriage brought round,” she ordered, “and get my cloak.”
    “Ah, no, mistress. ’Tis the dead of winter outside and too late to go there.”
    “It’s not too late.” She grabbed her cloak from Palmsworth’s hands and put it around her shoulders, then pushed one hand inside a fur muff. “Did you hear him? He knows.”
    “Stay here where it’s warm, my lady. You can go in the morning. I’ll take you myself.”
    “No! Bring the carriage.”
    Abigail wrapped a thick woolen scarf around her neck and headed for the door.
    “Wait, mistress. I’ll have Bundy ready the carriage, and Stella will fetch some blankets and warm some bricks to put inside and up above. You should stay warm, at least on the way over.”
    Abigail nodded, then paced the floor, waiting for Bundy to come with the carriage. She would run away if Cambridge forced her to, but she would not let him have what was hers. It was all she had left.

CHAPTER 3
    The sound of muffled voices at the front door swept through the entryway and into the morning room where Abigail stood. A strange peacefulness came over her. A feeling of completion. She was glad they were here, glad to have this over with. The waiting was always worse. Now she would know what threat Stephen’s brother intended. And she would know how to fight him.
    Their heavy footsteps clapped against the marble in the foyer, pounding as hollow as a bell tolling the message of doom. Let him threaten as he would. She would never give up what was hers. Never.
    She looked at the snow-covered ground, her back rigid and straight, her chin held high. She was on the brink of exhaustion, last night no more restful than the night before or the one before that. But she had no choice but to be strong. She was alone now. The reality of her isolation never more daunting than at this moment.
    There was a knock, and Palmsworth opened the door.
    She turned and focused on the man who was her biggest threat.
    He looked much the same as he had yesterday, his dark suit cut to perfection, his pristine white shirt freshly pressed and his silk cravat perfectly knotted. He’d combed his mahogany hair back from his face, its casual style accentuating high cheekbones and the stern line of his thick brows. He looked even more dangerous than before.
    “Mr. Cambridge and Mr. Craddock to see you, Miss Langdon,” Palmsworth announced from the doorway.
    “Thank you, Palmsworth. Please bring tea and the muffins Cook has prepared.”
    “Yes, Miss Langdon.”
    Abigail stepped to where three chairs sat in a semicircle around the fire. “Won’t you sit down,” she said, pointing to the two chairs facing each other on the right and left of the blazing hearth. She