Chapter 8Things remained quiet, until one morning, a sennight after the Flame of Diabul—and the Scarlett brothers—disappeared, Colling brought a letter to the breakfast room. “Beg pardon, m’lady. This arrived in the morning’s post.”
I straightened in my seat. Was this the start of it? “For me, Colling?” I swallowed, pleased my voice neither trembled nor cracked.
“No, Mr…I beg your pardon, sir. Sir Ashton.”
Would I ever grow used to hearing myself addressed as ‘Sir Ashton’?
“It’s for Miss Arabella.”
“I can’t think…Who would be writing to me?” She seized the letter from the salver and tore it open. Her eyes widened as she read the words, and then she burst into tears.
“Arabella! Oh, my dearest child, what’s the matter?”
“It’s from Arthur!”
“From Arthur? He’s still in the country?” Au
