The dinner bell rang, and Carlo relinquished her to Oliver, telling her, “I took the liberty of seating you with friends. We will mingle more with others afterward.”
Emme leaned toward him as he kissed both of her cheeks.
“Detective,” Carlo murmured over her head, “when dinner finishes, we move into the ballroom. I’ll join you there, and we shall decide how best to help our wounded spokeswoman circulate, as dancing seems out of reach for now.” He winked at Emme, and his expression turned serious—a rarity. “I am happy you are here.”
“Thank you, Carlo. This work means the world to me, and the thought I might miss it had me in knots.”
He held up a finger. “You remain close to your bodyguard. No acts of bravery, at least until your foot heals.”
“Noted.” She smiled and took Oliver’s arm, balancing on one crutch. He led her to wide double doors and into a dining room where round tables were set with glittering crystal stemware and silver polished to a bright shine.
Oliver walked Emme to the table where their names were scripted on place cards. To her delight, Sam and Hazel were already there, as were Daniel and Isla. Lucy and Miles had been snagged in conversation but were making their way to the table. Isla settled next to Emme, and when the ladies were seated, Oliver sat on Emme’s other side.
Hazel, seated next to Oliver, leaned past him to regard Emme with huge eyes. “What were you thinking?”
“We had a devil of a time keeping the details from your mother,” Isla said as she spread her napkin onto her lap. “Dearest, your escapade leaves me in horrified awe.” She looked at Emme much as she had when they were younger and Isla was the eldest in charge.
Emme fought not to squirm. “I had no choice,” she whispered back, glaring first at Isla and then Hazel.
“The captain was taking the ship to Portugal,” Oliver murmured low, his eyes sweeping the room.
“Exactly.” Emme motioned with her hand. “He was taking us to Portugal, where we would have likely been drugged and imprisoned. Possibly killed.” She sighed. “Clearly our hasty departure from the ship was not one I would have chosen had there been any other option.”
Miles and Lucy arrived at the table, and the gentlemen rose as Lucy was seated. She looked at Emme, eyes sparkling. “We have much to discuss! The Journal of Paranormal Medicine published only today their latest findings on Soul Consistency within the vampire community!”
Emme’s smile spread across her face. “How wonderful! Fortuitous timing. The more credibility we can show, the better for everyone.”
Lucy nodded and then paled as the introductory course was placed before her. Miles deftly moved it away and handed her a glass of water.
Emme frowned. “Are you ill, Lucy?”
Lucy shook her head and glanced at Miles, who winked at her.
“Oh, I do not believe traditional illness is at work,” Hazel said.
Isla gasped quietly and turned to her husband. “Daniel, I believe congratulations are in order. You’re about to become an uncle.”
Daniel Pickett, Lucy’s brother, turned to her, mouth slack. “Is it true?”
Lucy sipped her water and then placed the glass carefully on the table. “It is.” She smiled, although her face remained a shade lighter than her normal, healthy hue.
Miles frowned. “She’s not kept a decent meal down for weeks.”
“Martha Watts insists I am perfectly fine.”
Daniel raised eyebrows high with implied doubt. “Martha Watts, the stable mistress?”
“She has been a midwife for years,” Lucy said, exasperation clear. “I have also consulted two obstetric physicians in London at this one’s insistence.” She motioned to her husband. “They validate Martha completely.”
Hazel’s attention was on Miles, and she chuckled softly. “I am certain Lucy really is fine.” She elbowed Sam, who grinned at his friend’s distress.
“I’ve reassured him repeatedly.” Sam winked at Lucy. “Be strong, my lady. He may stop fussing before you deliver.”
Isla and Hazel both looked at Sam. “How long have you known?” Isla demanded.
He lifted a shoulder. “Few weeks. This food is delightful. Will you be eating yours, Lucy?”
Emme laughed and glanced at Oliver, who smiled and seemed more relaxed than he’d been in days. He inclined his head at Lucy. “Congratulations to the both of you.” He raised a glass and said, “To your continued good health.”
They each raised a glass, and Emme had taken a sip when a hotel employee appeared at her elbow.
“For you, miss,” the young man said, extending an envelope to her.
“Thank you.” She took it from him, and Oliver tensed in his chair.
“A moment,” he called to the messenger, who returned. “Who is the sender?”
He shook his head. “I received it from the front desk and was told to deliver it immediately.”
“What is your name?”
“Edward, sir. Edward Smoot.” The young man swallowed.
Oliver nodded and dismissed the boy.
“Is there a problem?” Miles asked quietly.
Emme swallowed. “I’ve received several cards and letters since arriving, but they’ve been delivered in bulk to the room.”
Oliver held out his hand, and Emme gratefully gave him the envelope. The script appeared a match for the Bad Letter, and she hoped she was imagining it.
Oliver slit open the envelope with his knife while taking a quick look at the large dining room. He removed the card inside, touching only one edge.
“‘Return to London, Miss O’Shea, or you shall bring wrath upon the world,’” Oliver read in a low voice.
Emme’s lips pinched together, and she tried not to react.
“Do you believe the sender is in the room?” Daniel asked Oliver.
“Possibly.” Oliver motioned to the nearest constable. He murmured something to the man, but Emme’s ears were buzzing. The food on her plate suddenly seemed inedible as her stomach turned.
Isla gripped her hand. “Emme. Look at me.”
“If I do not leave, everybody is in danger.” Emme bit her lip and fought the burning sensation behind her
