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awakened this morning, I made a decision. I refuse to become a prisoner in my own home— again .Father’s gone. No one’s going to do to me what he did.
    “Besides,” she continued, the edge in her tone softening, giving way to anticipation—and more than a touch of eagerness. “I was impatient to come out here and see how much work had been done on yourhome.” She clasped Stacie’s hands, hoping against hope that she and Damen might still salvage the pleasure of watching their new home take shape—a surprise she’d relished giving them long before the threatening package arrived. “Let’s not let this ruin your homecoming. Come. I want to show you your new manor—or at least the portion of it that’s completed.”
    “Of course.” Anastasia tossed Damen a beseeching look—one that spoke volumes. She was asking him to grant Breanna the measure of peace she needed—for the moment. There would be plenty of time to dwell on the horrid possibilities suggested by the threatening package. But for now, it was time to savor the joys of being home. For all their sakes.
    “All right.” Damen’s taut nod told her he understood, although he did pause long enough to scan the grounds with an unsettled eye. “But,” he added, unable to totally dismiss the worry that still gnawed at him, “after that I want to inspect those dolls and read that note.”
    “Of course.” Breanna agreed at once, more grateful than she was unnerved. “Oh, and Damen? If you could convince Wells that your being here means there’s another strong and able-bodied man to see to our safety, I’d be forever in your debt. That poor man has taken on the roles of guardian, overseer, and sentry. I worry about his strength holding out.”
    “I’ll talk to him the minute we get to the manor.” Damen’s lips thinned into a tight, unyielding line. “As for you and Stacie, nothing and no one will get near you. You can count on that.” He cleared his throat, deferring this conversation for later. “Now, let’s take a tour of our home.”
    He guided the two women forward, pausing only long enough to peer over his shoulder, his penetrating gaze raking the grounds in one more exhaustive sweep.
    Other than the crew of workmen toiling in their immediate vicinity, everything seemed quiet. Safe, he thought. At least for now.

5
    So this is Lady Breanna’s bedchamber .
    He smiled darkly, hovering near the doorway and surveying the feminine decor.
    Immaculate mahogany furniture .Canopiedbed .Pristine bedcovers.A n array of tiny porcelain figures decorating the night-stand, dresser, and fireplace mantel.
    Orderly, delicate, and intact. Just like its owner.
    She wouldn’t stay intact for long.
    He caught a glimpse of himself in the looking glass, and smiled at the bizarre image he made. Workman’s clothes. They hardly suited him. Still, the disguise had gained him entry to the estate. He’d known today would be the day. The minute he heard the gossip in London—that the Marquess of Sheldrake had returned from his wedding trip—he knew she’d finally be leaving her sanctuary today. If only to show the partially finished manor to the newly married couple.
    She’d surprised him by leaving the house early” even before her cousin arrived. Evidently, she’d grown tired of being cooped up. Or perhaps it was that more than a week without threats had made her bold. Either way, she’d strolled across the grounds, venturing over to the construction site.
    Giving him the perfect opportunity to lie in wait.
    And then, when Anastasia and her new husband arrived, to do what he’d come here to do.
    The ladder he’d taken from the shed had proved most useful. He’d propped it against the rear of the house—the side facing the wooded section of property—and climbed into a hall window on the second floor.
    From there, he’d made his way to Breanna’s room.
    He rubbed his gloved palms together, moving slowly from the mantel to the dressing table. Idly, he