Never Kiss a Toad

Chapter Sixty-Nine, Part 3

"Are you not going to kiss me, Anthony," Cherry complained. "And more? I am feeling well, and it is such a long time since we..."

Nearly thirty years married to a rake, and she was still shy in words, he thought, as he tenderly lifted her and carried her to the bed. But not in actions, and they wasted no more of the night talking about their daughter and her beloved.

***

"David doesn't comment on the letters I sent from the Mediterranean," Sally told her family at breakfast. "I wonder if they were delayed?" She picked up the letter from her lap, and checked it again. "He sent this at the end of April, and my first letter would have gone from Gibraltar a full fortnight earlier."

"We have been plagued with postal delays and losses," Mama complained. "The Duchess of Wellbridge says in her letter that she writes frequently. Since the mail goes by the same overland route as we did, letters should have started catching up with us shortly after we arrived at the islands."

Sally stopped stroking her letter and looked up, her brow creased. "You are quite right! We have been here months, and David says he writes weekly.

'I can only hope your letters to me have been caught up somewhere, perhaps chasing around Europe as mine to you did when they followed Etcetera. I have written at least weekly and will continue to do so. Surely some of them will arrive, but know, my love, that I think of you always.'"

She let the page fall to her knee, looking off into the distance with a contented smile.

Maddox frowned. "How long since you left England. Ten months? That would be—at least twenty-five letters already here, and perhaps another fifteen on their way."

"That's odd," Papa said. "Perhaps they might all have gone astray as we travelled, but I would have expected most of them to catch us up once we were established here." He shook his head. "I assumed Wellbridge was refusing to talk to me, but Bella would have known to use the diplomatic mail. You, at least, Cherry, should have had letters."

"We have them now," Cherry soothed, "and can hope for more soon. Maddox, my dear, we shall miss you. Must you leave straight after breakfast?"

Sally accepted the change of subject, though she picked up Papa's reservations about David's claim to have written so often. He had been proven wrong! Why did he still believe the worst?

She went to change her shoes and put on a bonnet, and then met Maddox, along with all the people Papa thought necessary for her safety and status, by the door.

They walked to the harbour, with no chance for a private talk. Just as well, since Sally was still feeling sensitive about Maddox's doubts and the way he'd raised them at the breakfast table. But when they reached the wharf, he said, "Step to one side with me for a moment, will you, cousin?"

Warily, she followed him, but he remained silent, biting his lips, his forehead creased.

"What are you trying not to say, Maddox?" Sally's voice sharpened, though she'd had every intention of being kind to her cousin today, as he took his leave. "Not, I hope, another warning about my betrothed?"

Maddox gave her a wry smile. "I did myself no good, did I? Please believe I spoke only out of concern for you, Sally. You know him far better than I, though. I wish you every happiness; I really do. Forgive me?"

She let go of her irritation and took his offered hand. "Friends? I am very fond of you, Maddox. But I do know my own heart, you know. However kindly meant your warnings, I wish you would keep them to yourself."

The last word came out with more volume than she attended, and her entourage, who were standing back to give her and Maddox privacy, started forward.

She waved them away, as Maddox dropped his voice to say, "I'm saying nothing more about your betrothed, Sally. I wanted to talk to you on another topic. The missing letters."

Sally stiffened. "The mails are not certain."

"Have you had any letters in the diplomatic pouch?" Maddox asked. "What about by the normal method, delivered by any captain coming this way?"

"Just a couple from Merry's mother and sister, which he brought when he came." Sally frowned. "It is odd, is it not?"

"Who collects and sorts the mail?" Maddox asked.

Sally's eyes widened. "You think someone has been interfering with the mail? Surely not Mr Penchley! He is so devoted to Papa—and his career. One of the other secretaries, perhaps?"

Maddox grimaced. "Penchley is devoted to his career, yes. But he is obsessed with you, Sally."

"No." Sally shook her head. "Mr Penchley? He thinks I would... But I have done nothing to encourage him, Maddox, and to do such a dreadful thing... I cannot believe it."

Maddox's smile was ironic. "Neither can your father. But someone is doing it. For so few personal letters to arrive, and those only the ones that were delivered—you need to be careful, Sally. Promise me you will never go anywhere with Penchley, or allow yourself to be alone with him.