Free There's Something About Lady Mary by Sophie Barnes Page A

friends and therefore more like an uncle to her than anything else. To her relief, she didn’t have to wait long. “Mary,” Lord Woodbridge said upon his arrival as he closed the space between them and took her hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “It is so good to see you again.”
    “It is good to see you too, Robert. I am sorry I did not contact you sooner, but there has been so much to see to since my return, and, well. . .to be perfectly honest, it has all been a little overwhelming.”
    “I understand,” Robert told her mildly, taking the seat across from her. “It cannot have been easy for you to discover that your father kept so many secrets from you.”
    “No, it has not been.” She met his gaze. “Did you know about it all along?”
    “Let’s just say that it would have been highly unlikely for us to have been such close friends if we had not shared the same social background—even if we did share the same profession.”
    Mary nodded with understanding but couldn’t stop the feeling of betrayal that washed over her. She’d always wondered about her father’s relationship with the earl, but whenever she’d questioned it, her father had explained it away with the shrug of his shoulders or the wave of his hand, claiming that they’d simply known each other forever, and that in their case their friendship transcended social status and material wealth. Lies. . .all of it.
    Looking at Robert, she noticed that he was studying her with a cautious gaze. “Your father and I did not always see eye to eye, as you well know, but I was very sorry to hear about his death, Mary. I do hope that you realize that.”
    “Yes, of course. Thank you. I actually was hoping that you might be able to tell me if there is anything else that he might have kept from me.”
    He gave her an assessing look. “I am not sure I follow. Your father was a colleague of mine and a truly dependable friend. I knew him for over twenty years, Mary, and in that time he was always working on one theory or another, some more successful than others, I suppose.”
    “But was there nothing that stood out? Perhaps something that he spoke of with more frequency or with greater passion?”
    He frowned. “What is this about, exactly?”
    “To tell you the truth, I am not at all sure,” she said with a sigh, pulling a piece of paper out of her reticule. “But I received this letter this afternoon, and I am just trying to make some sense of it.”
    Taking it from her, Robert read it. “Heed our warning. . .do not involve yourself in matters that don’t concern you.” He looked at Mary with much concern in his dark brown eyes. “This is quite alarming, to say the least. I daresay you ought to take this very seriously.” His eyes narrowed. “I hope you haven’t done something reckless.”
    “No! Of course not.” Mary tried to compose herself. “I have no idea what they might be referring to. I have not been toying with anything that does not concern me. Though my father may have taught me everything he knows, he never shared his notes with me.”
    Robert paused for a moment, mulling something over in his head. “Perhaps he was trying to protect you.”
    “From what?”
    “I cannot tell you that, my dear, but if, as you say, he did not share his notes with you, then perhaps it might be wise of you to read them. Your father was a meticulous man, Mary. He passed the piece of paper back to her. “I daresay that whatever this letter is about, it is possible that you might find the answers you are looking for in his journals.”
    T he instant Mary returned home, she hurried upstairs to her room in search of Emma, who was busy polishing Mary’s boots. The shirt and breeches were already laid out on the bed. Following her discussion with Robert, Mary was itching to take a look at her father’s journals, hoping that she might find some answers. It would have to wait, however; Lady Arlington came first.
    “I have no