JAMES CRUMBLED THE missive tightly and tossed it into the fire. His hands were still shaking, in anger and disbelief.

Baldwin was dead.

Gilford had found his body earlier this morning in the man's office.

How was this possible? Two people whom he had interacted with were dead. It was no coincidence. James had inquired about the late duke and earl's death and suddenly, the two people who knew were gone. The only reasonable explanation was that both men must have stumbled upon implicating information.

It frustrated James that he was no closer to figuring who was behind it all. However, Baldwin's death had made it clear that they were being watched. It was not fair. Baldwin had been but an innocent fool who now left a family of three children behind. Who would feed them? What would Baldwin's widow do without her husband? James could only look after the children in a limited means, and he didn't know if Baldwin's widow would accept his generosity.

Frustration and red-hot anger poured over James' body. He grabbed the glass decanter from the gold painted cart and flung it across the room. The glass shattered upon impact as pieces fell across his office, shining when the small stream of sunlight reflected off them. Amber liquid seeped onto the rug and his chair, but James no longer cared.

He expelled a breath he had not realized he was holding. Tossing the decanter had not made him feel particularly better. No, it would do nobody good for him to lose control. James needed his brain to focus and figure out who the murder was. He would not be responsible for the loss of anymore lives.

Running his fingers through his hair, James walked towards his desk, careful to avoid the sharp glass pieces that were littering the floor. He stood behind his chair, looking at the painting of his father. When he had thrown the decanter, it had nicked the painting, but James was thankful that there was no other damage. Reaching out, he tried straightening it, but his fingers brushed an awkward edge.

Frowning, he let his fingertips trace the edge. His heart leapt; no, it couldn't be. Grabbing his chair, he stood on the plush seat, ignoring that his great-aunt would have a heart condition if she saw him do so. He reached out and removed his father's painting, carefully laying it on the carpet. He turned back and gasped to peer at the wall. On a single glance, it appeared normal, but upon brushing his fingers there was a small gap. Excitement thrummed through his body when he saw the small keyhole. Immediately, he knew what would fit in it.

Jumping down from the chair, he began searching around his desk for the key he found in Vivienne's pendant. It was somewhere, buried beneath the copious missives and books. Opening the desk drawer, he smiled and held the key to the light. Stepping onto the chair once again, James slotted the key into the hole—it was a perfect fit.

The wood panel loosened, and he was able to slide it to the left. James' heart hammered as he smirked in satisfaction. By God, his father had truly been crafty. He knew nobody would remove the portrait of the master of the manor and he had created the perfect hiding place. James reached in blindly, only to pull out a stack of letters. Frowning, he transferred them to his other hand, reaching into to feel if there was something else. He came up empty.

Glancing at the stack in his left hand, he frowned, surprised to see those were the only contents of the vault. The importance of the letters heightened in his mind. Settling into his chair, James pushed away the rest of the documents on his desk and began to read.

The first letter was addressed to a Pierre, indicating French origin. His eyes glazed over the letter. A large portion of it seemed to contain information on the positions and stations of the British military, as well as future moves. James' heart leapt; he was sure this was classified information which meant that the author of the letters was a traitor. He had not expected his father to betray the crown—the man James had known was kind and loyal to Britain and the crown. The first letter was not signed, and so James moved onto the next.

This one was from Pierre, and it had a more threatening tone. James' eyes travelled to the last paragraph. 

The officers will be making their way into Britain upon a cargo ship containing bourbon.  Do ensure that the London docks are clear, and the officers are hidden well. I've been told that you were conversing with the earl and duke. I hope I do not need to remind you Oswald, if my men find out that a single name has slipped out, all those you care about will be silenced. Keep relaying the information you are told, and we shall continue our prosperous relationship.

-       Pierre 

James' heart hammered as he finished reading the last line. His earlier intuition was incorrect, the man writing to Pierre had not been his father. A sense of relief filled his body but then he became rigid again. A second name had been mentioned in the letter, Oswald. He racked his brain; he had heard that name before—it was the current Earl of Westmorland's Christian name.

James froze, his mind spinning into multiple directions. No, it couldn't be the same Oswald. Except James knew that the Earl of Westmorland had served in the army for several years. It would make sense as to how his father came into possession of the letters. If Vivienne's father had found out about his brother's betrayal, he would have trusted the information with his friend.

A single thought raced through his head, Vivienne. She was in danger now if the earl was still working with the French. He had delivered her straight into the enemy's hand. He needed to bring her back to his house, immediately. James grabbed his tailcoat, slipping it on while making sure to place the letters in the inner pockets where they would be secure. He exited out of the study, walking towards the entrance.

The dread in his stomach increased as he remembered Vivienne was not at the earl's townhouse. She was leaving today. Vivienne wrote him a letter saying that she was travelling to Italy to reside with Countess Westmorland's sister for the remainder of the season. She had asked to meet him at the docks. Glancing at his pocket watch he saw that over an hour had passed since the time she'd listed in her letters. 

Her departure to Italy no longer seemed innocent after James had read the letters. If the Earl was responsible for the deaths of their fathers, what would he do to his niece? For all James knew, the sister-in-law did not exist, and the earl was merely trying to get rid of Vivienne.

James paused before he quickly spun around back to his study. He avoided the shattered glass and portrait of his father to reach for the box on one of his shelves. Pulling it down, he undid the lock to retrieve the Flintlock pistol that lay inside. Tucking it into the waistband of his breeches, James rounded the corner, nearly knocking down Preston.

"Your Grace, I was just about to find you!"

James continued walking as his butler hurried to keep up with him. "Ready the carriage at once Preston. I need you to send a missive to Gilford and inform him to meet me at the London docks right away. Also, do get someone to clean the broken glass in my study—make sure the maids do not touch anything else or I'll be severely displeased."

"Ah-yes your Grace, I'll ensure that happens however, I wanted to speak to you about a visitor."

James stopped at the door for a moment to give his butler a less then impressed look. "If you cannot tell Preston, I am rather in a hurry to save a lady from her evil uncle, tell whoever called upon me to visit at a more convenient time."

James did not give Preston a chance to answer before he pulled open the door ahead of the butler. On the steps, a tall woman stood, dressed in a ragged gown. She perked up when she saw James, "Your Grace!"

James looked at her beneath his nose, "This is not the servant's entrance, that is on the other side" he said coldly.

The woman was not to be deterred, "I've been waiting for a chance to speak to you, Your Grace, if you could give me a moment of your time."

"That, I unfortunately do not have at the moment," James said walking around her to the carriage which Preston had readied. "Make an appointment with my butler," he nodded towards Preston.

He was about to step foot in the carriage when she shouted, "My name is Agatha, I was hoping to speak to your betrothed, Lady Selina. It is my understanding that she has been staying in your residence."

James froze, stepping back as he walked briskly towards her, peering at her closely. Although she seemed much thinner than what Vivienne had described to him, the pointed nose and chin seemed to match Vivienne's description of the governess. It did seem this woman was whom she was saying she was. Thinking quickly, he sighed, "Lady Selina had been staying with me until recently, but she moved in with her uncle."

Agatha jerked back, as her face paled. "No," she shook her head, "this cannot be." The governess gripped his arm, "You need to get her back at once, it is not safe for her, Your Grace."

James' stomach churned. His inkling was correct then. "Yes, I've recently come to that conclusion myself. If the last letter she sent me is to be believed, she is set to board a ship to Italy."

Agatha's dark eyes widened, "What do you mean Your Grace?"

James shook his head; he did not have enough time to explain. "You can stay in the residence, I'll share everything with you later but right now, I need to make sure Vivienne is safe."

He made to remove her hand from his clothing, but she clutched tighter. "Take me with you, I'll explain everything on the way there."

James clenched his jaw, "It isn't safe for you either. Vivienne has worried enough about you that I will not place you in harms way."

But Agatha seemed to be determined. "I've been looking for that child these last few months. I will not let anyone, or anything get in my way."

James sighed, he really didn't have time to be standing and arguing with a stubborn governess. "Come," he beckoned her towards the carriage, "But you must stay in the carriage at all costs. I do not know what we will come across and the last thing I need to be doing is worrying about saving another life."

"You need not to worry, Your Grace," Agatha said proudly. "I can protect myself."

James helped her into the carriage, before rapping his knuckles on the rooftop. The carriage began moving, and they were on their way. A nervous feeling arose within his body, but James forced it down. Instead, he stared at the governess in front of him.

"We believed you to be dead," he said. "I've had a Bow Street Runner looking for you all this time."

The governess swallowed, "I found temporary residence in another home. My attackers were in pursuit of me, and I needed to get rid of them."

James nodded, not asking how exactly she had gotten rid of the attackers. It seemed that Vivienne's governess was quite resourceful.

"My only question is, why exactly did you flee with Vivienne?"

Agatha looked outside the window, a sad smile upon her face. "Unfortunately, I wasn't told much either. Lord Westmorland feared for his daughter's life. I knew he had somehow become involved in army issues, but that was about it. I often saw the Duke of Lennox and him chatting late into the night. There were a couple of moments in which Lord Westmorland and his brother, Lord Oswald were arguing but I did not know much about it."

James gritted his teeth, so he was correct, the name Oswald in the letters was in fact referring to the Earl of Westmorland. "How did you and Vivienne get away?"

Agatha played with her fingers, picking at the scabs. "One day, the earl came rushing home and told me to take away Lady Selina to a cottage his wife had loved. He said that he would join us in a bit, but that night, Lord Westmoreland never came home. I knew in my guts then it was not safe for Lady Selina and so we escaped in the night. We blended in with the other village people until Flaxpool was attacked by mercenaries. I tried holding them off and told Vivienne to run. I'm assuming that is how she stumbled upon your manor."

"And you failed to share any of this information with Vivienne?"

The governess looked at him sharply, "No, I needed to protect her. It was better to keep her in the dark about her heritage, in case anybody came around to ask questions."

James nodded, and then a thought popped into his mind. "How did you know about my betrothal to Lady Vivienne?"

"Lord Westmorland informed me one night when he was deep into his cups. It seemed to give him comfort to know that his daughter would be taken care of, lest anything was to happen to him."

James glanced out the window as they passed by the cobbled streets. He did not feel better after hearing that Vivienne's father had trusted him, yet he might have let down the the man. Only time would tell.

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Wow, so a lot happened this chapter. We find out more about Vivienne's uncle and his involvement with the French (Did you guys expect that?). Also, Agatha returned! I know many of you would have wanted Vivienne's POV but we needed James to figure out a part of the mystery so he could save his lady, the only question is, will he make it on time?