dress. It should have made her look washed out and tired but, as everything did on her pretty maid, it only seemed to emphasize her beauty. “Thank you, Belle.”
“Oh, you’re welcome.” Smiling at the plate she’d just set on the corner of Miranda’s desk, she added, “You’re in for a treat, Mrs. Markham. The scones are especially good today.”
“I think we say that every time Cook bakes.”
“I guess we do.” She shrugged. “But it’s better than thinking they could always be better.”
Miranda chuckled. “Indeed. Thank you for bringing me this treat.” Belle set about straightening the room, and after taking a fortifying bite of the scone and a bracing sip of tea, Miranda pulled out her letter opener and began slicing open the envelopes.
The first five were reservations, two others were bills. One was a letter of appreciation for a restful visit.
And the last was another threat.
Hating the sight of it, her hands shook as she pulled out the letter. The handwriting was familiar. The letters were ill formed and slightly block-like. Though she wanted to do nothing more than crumble the offending paper away, she forced herself to read it.
I know what he did. I know he betrayed the South. I know how you have been dishonoring his memory. And I can prove it all. Soon, everyone will have the proof if you don’t leave Galveston and never come back. I’ve been warning you for a year, and my patience is gone. Your time has run out.
Her hands were trembling so much that the paper fell through her fingers. Panicked, she grasped for it but knocked the tea over instead. Hot liquid splattered over the desk and on the rest of the correspondence.
Miranda jumped to her feet to escape being burned. That action caused the rest of the letters to drift to the floor.
Tears pricked her eyes as every worry she’d pushed aside came back, tenfold. The return of her fear was almost as frightening as the letter itself. She had thought the letters couldn’t be any more threatening, but it seemed she was wrong. She’d thought she was done being afraid of everyone in Galveston, but that fear was still there. Alive and well. Stronger than ever.
But what if the rumors were true? Even if they weren’t—and she was desperately clinging to that belief—what if this monster had falsified documents that made it look like Phillip was a traitor? It had to be someone who hated her enough to torture her and blackmail her into leaving her home. Did she dare to contemplate who that might be?
Belle rushed to her side. “Oh, Mrs. Markham! Are you all right? Did you get burned?”
Miranda worked her mouth but, try as she might, no sound came out.
“Here, come sit down, ma’am. I’ll get this cleaned up in no time.”
Miranda said nothing as Belle wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her to the chaise lounge in the corner. “Here, ma’am. You just rest for a moment.”
“I . . . I am fine, Belle. Yes, as you said, it’s merely tea. I don’t know how I managed to spill it. I’m not usually so clumsy.”
“We know you ain’t clumsy at all, Mrs. Markham. It was just an accident. That’s all. Everyone has them.”
Relieved that Belle wasn’t making a fuss over her anymore, Miranda attempted to smile. “Yes, they do. I guess it’s my day.”
“Wish my day didn’t come up quite so often,” Belle said as she wiped up the tea with the tea towel. “I’m forever knocking into things.”
As Belle continued to prattle on, Miranda closed her eyes and tried to breathe deeply.
“Now that it’s all spick and span again, may I bring you some more tea, Mrs.—” She abruptly cut off her words with a gasp. “Oh no. You got another one of them.”
Miranda popped open her eyes. When she realized Belle was staring at the letter on the floor like it was about to gain legs and jump out at her, a terrible realization settled inside of her. “What did you say?”
Belle stood up slowly. “Beg your pardon,
“Oh, you’re welcome.” Smiling at the plate she’d just set on the corner of Miranda’s desk, she added, “You’re in for a treat, Mrs. Markham. The scones are especially good today.”
“I think we say that every time Cook bakes.”
“I guess we do.” She shrugged. “But it’s better than thinking they could always be better.”
Miranda chuckled. “Indeed. Thank you for bringing me this treat.” Belle set about straightening the room, and after taking a fortifying bite of the scone and a bracing sip of tea, Miranda pulled out her letter opener and began slicing open the envelopes.
The first five were reservations, two others were bills. One was a letter of appreciation for a restful visit.
And the last was another threat.
Hating the sight of it, her hands shook as she pulled out the letter. The handwriting was familiar. The letters were ill formed and slightly block-like. Though she wanted to do nothing more than crumble the offending paper away, she forced herself to read it.
I know what he did. I know he betrayed the South. I know how you have been dishonoring his memory. And I can prove it all. Soon, everyone will have the proof if you don’t leave Galveston and never come back. I’ve been warning you for a year, and my patience is gone. Your time has run out.
Her hands were trembling so much that the paper fell through her fingers. Panicked, she grasped for it but knocked the tea over instead. Hot liquid splattered over the desk and on the rest of the correspondence.
Miranda jumped to her feet to escape being burned. That action caused the rest of the letters to drift to the floor.
Tears pricked her eyes as every worry she’d pushed aside came back, tenfold. The return of her fear was almost as frightening as the letter itself. She had thought the letters couldn’t be any more threatening, but it seemed she was wrong. She’d thought she was done being afraid of everyone in Galveston, but that fear was still there. Alive and well. Stronger than ever.
But what if the rumors were true? Even if they weren’t—and she was desperately clinging to that belief—what if this monster had falsified documents that made it look like Phillip was a traitor? It had to be someone who hated her enough to torture her and blackmail her into leaving her home. Did she dare to contemplate who that might be?
Belle rushed to her side. “Oh, Mrs. Markham! Are you all right? Did you get burned?”
Miranda worked her mouth but, try as she might, no sound came out.
“Here, come sit down, ma’am. I’ll get this cleaned up in no time.”
Miranda said nothing as Belle wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her to the chaise lounge in the corner. “Here, ma’am. You just rest for a moment.”
“I . . . I am fine, Belle. Yes, as you said, it’s merely tea. I don’t know how I managed to spill it. I’m not usually so clumsy.”
“We know you ain’t clumsy at all, Mrs. Markham. It was just an accident. That’s all. Everyone has them.”
Relieved that Belle wasn’t making a fuss over her anymore, Miranda attempted to smile. “Yes, they do. I guess it’s my day.”
“Wish my day didn’t come up quite so often,” Belle said as she wiped up the tea with the tea towel. “I’m forever knocking into things.”
As Belle continued to prattle on, Miranda closed her eyes and tried to breathe deeply.
“Now that it’s all spick and span again, may I bring you some more tea, Mrs.—” She abruptly cut off her words with a gasp. “Oh no. You got another one of them.”
Miranda popped open her eyes. When she realized Belle was staring at the letter on the floor like it was about to gain legs and jump out at her, a terrible realization settled inside of her. “What did you say?”
Belle stood up slowly. “Beg your pardon,
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