He slipped his hand into his jacket pocket, withdrew the enigmatic missive from the solicitor, and tossed it onto Robbie’s desk. “This planted the seed.”
Robbie eyed the note curiously before reading.
Daniel sprang to his feet, too restless to sit. He sipped his whiskey and paced the confines of the office, careful to avoid the debris littering the floor.
“Why wasn’t this addressed to Bedford? Shouldn’t your father’s solicitor be contacting him?” Robbie furrowed his brow.
“He probably wrote to both of us.” He shrugged.
“What destiny are you to claim?” Robbie held up the letter to the ribbon of light streaming through the window. He scrunched up his features and examined the paper as if the light would magically illuminate the answers he sought.
“That’s not relevant. It is the first line that brought me back.”
Robbie looked at the note, then at him, frowning. “It is time?”
“Exactly.” He stopped before Robbie’s desk and brandished his glass at him, excitement lacing his words. “It is time. Ten years ago, I left with nothing but the clothes on my back and a paltry savings. I lost everything when Lakeview Manor burned to the ground. Well, it is time. Time to get it all back. Time I rebuild what’s mine. What I lost.” His voice lowered. “What we both know was stolen from me.”
“You are going to rebuild Lakeview Manor?”
“I am.” He nodded. “A decade ago, I did not have the resolve or the capital to succeed. To rebuild as I wanted or needed to. But today I can, thanks to Curtis Shipping.”
Robbie set the letter down and quietly assessed him. “You do remember why you left?”
He paused, the silence echoing between them as the years fell away. Orange flames and a thick, suffocating wall of gray smoke flashed before him. Escaping the fire, Daniel had sought refuge at the Tanners’, where he had been given the care he never would have received at Bedford Hall. After the reading of his father’s will a fortnight before, Edmund had kicked Daniel out of the house and was busy drowning himself in drink. Sober, Edmund would have lamented Daniel’s survival rather than his burned flesh.
As Daniel healed, stories had circulated that the curtains had caught fire, and thanks had been given that the house had stood empty. Daniel hadn’t bothered to correct the misinformation. Having lost all he had ever cared about, he hadn’t given a damn, and had eventually sailed to America with Brett, never looking back. Until now.
He shook off the old nightmare and lifted his chin. “I do.”
“For God’s sake, Daniel.” Robbie leaned forward, his tone heated, his eyes hard. “Someone tried to kill you. They burned your house to the ground with you in it. You barely made it out alive.”
“I am well aware of that.” He kept his voice level, despite his strained patience. “I am the one carrying the scars, so you can be sure I will not ever forget.”
“What makes you think that whoever wanted you dead isn’t around to finish the job today?”
“It’s another reason I have returned. It is time to catch the bastard. To get justice.”
“And how do you propose to do that ten years later?” Robbie scoffed. “You didn’t know who set the fire back then, have you learned something new?”
“No, but I intend to.” He frowned, irked at his mulish tone.
Grabbing the bottle of whiskey, Robbie refilled his glass and topped off Daniel’s. “To a man with a death wish. Can your partner manage the firm without you?”
“He can, but I am not planning on his needing to. My thanks for your support.” He lifted his drink and took a sip, seeking to wash away his friend’s cynicism.
The distant whine of a horse and clatter of dishes drifted to them. Robbie blew out a breath. “All right. I will bite. How the hell are we going to catch the bastard?”
“I heard them that night,” he confided. He perched on Robbie’s desk, his words passionate. “It’s what saved my life, because it woke me up. Their voices carried across the lake. If I heard them, someone else may have as well. Someone might have seen something.”
“Are you planning to ask around? Post a notice asking anyone with information to come forward?”
He bristled at the skepticism lacing Robbie’s words. “There will be no posting of any notices. This has to be done quietly. I intend to speak to a select few who might know something. I will inform them that information is sought about the fire and ask them to spread the word that there is money to be had for any intelligence provided. Nothing might come of it, but I need to do this, Robbie. I don’t want vengeance, but I deserve justice. Help me to get it.” His finger tapped the discarded letter as he pressed his point home. “It is time. Past time.”