Page 33 of Gone with the Rake

“Why forge it? This is their first correspondence.” Honoria jabbed her finger at the letter with each word. “It. Says. So. Right. Here. Therefore, he doesn’t know her handwriting.”

“No.” Lydia’s mouth twisted. “But he does know mine.”

Honoria’s eyes softened, almost in pity. Her voice was calmer, quieter as she spoke, “It’s been ten years, Lydia. Do you truly think he still remembers?”

I remember. Lydia’s heart squeezed painfully. But he probably doesn’t. “He is the one who taught me letters.”

“Yes, but you have changed. Your letters have changed.”

“You don’t know that. And I can’t take that risk.” Lydia folded the letter and tucked it into her coat pocket. Perhaps she hoped he still remembered, just as she did. But the truth was simpler than that—she didn’t want to face this alone. Corresponding with him felt… personal. She needed to stay level-headed through all this, and Honoria possessed that level head.

And at this moment, she was shaking said level head, dark brown curls catching the light. “You are meddling with people’s lives, Lydia.”

“And didn’t he meddle with mine?” Lydia’s fingers clenched into fists. “Or have you forgotten the sole reason I am even living this life? I know I am the reason you’re living your life like this. Help me help you.”

“You are asking for trouble,” Honoria said, her protest weakening.

“No, I am not.” Lydia straightened, sensing victory. Her friend was wavering—she just needed a few more arguments. She looped her arm through Honoria’s and started walking along the Serpentine again. “Can’t you see? We’ll be able to know where he is at all times! Perhaps we can even get him to tell us exactly when he removes the ring or persuade him to surrender it for a good cleaning. Or we could lure him into a trap!”

“You are right,” Honoria said with a smile in her voice. “I can’t let you do this alone. God knows what you’re going to do to the poor fellow if I do.”

Lydia let out a low chuckle. “Well, then. Let the hunt begin.”

* * *

“Dearest Lord Thornton,” Honoria enunciated as she wrote the words, her fingers trembling slightly around the quill.

“Dearest?” Lydia scoffed as she leaned closer to look at the piece of paper before Honoria. “What, is she in love with him? They barely know each other.”

They sat huddled on Honoria’s narrow bed in her room, Honoria hunched over the small bedside table, while Lydia perched on her knees by her side, watching over her shoulder. They had precious little time before the master of the house would rise, so they needed to hurry.

“He is her fiancé,” Honoria protested.

“They saw each other but once.” Lydia rolled her eyes. “And judging from that dance, they did not enjoy each other’s company either.”

Honoria raised a brow, her jaw tightening, but wisely didn’t comment. “Fine.” She dipped her quill with more force than necessary. “My Lord Thornton…”

“That isn’t personal enough. You said it yourself, they are affianced.”

Honoria’s shoulders stiffened, her knuckles whitening around the quill. “Do you want to do this yourself?”

“No, no, dear,” Lydia soothed, patting Honoria’s arm with exaggerated gentleness. “Do go on.”

Honoria crumpled the paper and tossed it aside before starting anew. “My dear Lord Thornton,” she wrote.

“Good.” Lydia smiled. “Not too formal, yet not too personal. I like it.”

“Ah, yes, the letter is a raging success,” Honoria noted drily.

“Don’t act churlish. The first few sentences are the hardest, I promise.”

“You say that as if you’ve done this before,” Honoria grumbled under her breath, and Lydia’s heart twinged with an old pain. I have.

“I just mean that people usually pay a lot of attention to the beginning.” Lydia’s fingers drummed a nervous pattern on her knee. “One shouldn’t rouse any suspicions when the person is just starting to read, for every mistake is noticed. But once one successfully catches the reader’s attention, they are more likely to forgive little blunders.”

Honoria chuckled, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. “Don’t tell this to Lord Caldwell’s wards. Very well, what’s next?”

“We should say something about the upcoming festivities. Ask where he is planning to go next.”