In those times, there was often a need for secrecy. She tapped thoughtfully on the nearest of the bedposts, then knelt down to look under the bed.
That would be too easy. There was also a chance a maid might discover something while changing the sheets. The same went for under the mattress. The top of the canopy would be too high to reach and not convenient enough.
The headboard was perfect. It was an elegantly carved hunting scene set in a series of six panels, with a border of leaves and vines. She’d been in the room dozens of times, always too downtrodden to see the beauty of it. The curling wood, which looked almost like…
Handles.
There were two in particular that seemed to fade into the background when she stood at the side of the bed, only growing more obvious as she viewed it from different angles. She climbed onto the mattress, pushing the pillows off onto the floor. Then, she fitted her hands into the gaps and pulled.
Nothing happened.
She frowned. It was too perfect. It had to be the answer. She ran a finger along the sides of the panel and undid the latches hidden on each side. Then, she tried again.
There was resistance at first. She feared she might damage it if she tried too hard to open it. If she broke it, her grandfather would know what she’d been up to.
But that was the old Louisa talking. She’d been far too cautious for far too long. If he shouted at her, it would not matter. What could he say that she’d not already heard? She must not let old fears get in the way of what she wanted.
She tightened her grip on the wood and yanked. There was a final creaking sound and the main panels pulled forward revealing a space about six inches deep and several feet wide. She peered into it, then lifted out a bundle of papers and a thick stack of banknotes.
She had never seen so much money in one place before. When her grandfather had given her pin money it had rarely been more than a pound or two. When they were in London, she’d used Percy’s lines of credit to get what she needed. It was a rare thing when she saw ten pounds, all in one place.
But Grandfather had been keeping far more than that hidden away. He’d been keeping thousands of pounds, ready at hand, while complaining that she was a spendthrift for putting too much sugar in her tea. There was a bank book with a careful list of deposits showing the small fortune he’d been keeping from them.
She raised her hand to her heart and felt it beating frantically, as if she’d been running for miles. But didn’t one usually have to run when they were escaping from something terrible? She hadn’t taken more than a few steps, but for the first time in years, she felt as though she was free.
She sat perfectly still, taking slow breaths and waiting for her heartbeat to steady. Then she pushed the money aside and turned to the papers. A letter from her parents. A deed to the house. The will. She laid them side by side, reading them once. And again.
Then, before someone could find and stop her, she gathered both money and papers together and rushed with them to the stairs.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Thomas watched Louisa dash from the room, ducking under her grandfather’s arm and running for the stairs. She’d told him she would need about an hour for her search. By the look on Skeffington’s face, he was prepared to shout for that long and longer. It did not really matter. He’d been shouted at by far more interesting people during heated debates in Parliament and nothing had come of it.
Of course, if one wished to marry into a family, it was probably bad form to drive an in-law to apoplexy before the banns had even been read.
‘Good morning, Skeffington,’ he said brightly.
‘What is the meaning of this… This… This…’ The poor man was close to foaming at the mouth.
Thomas continued to smile. ‘Sit down. Have you had breakfast? I find a cup of tea makes all things better.’ He gestured to a chair.
‘This is not your table! This is not your house!’
‘It is not,’ he agreed. ‘I have a fine one in Staffordshire and another in London.’ He smiled. ‘No farm, however. And no cousin, natural or otherwise.’
Skeffington’s nostrils flared like a winded horse. ‘It wasyou…’
‘All along,’ Thomas finished for him. ‘We cooked up a scheme to get you to give up the blunt. It was a mad idea. All mine,I’m afraid. Your granddaughter told me it would not work, but I refused to listen.’
‘Get out of my house!’ he said, pointing towards the door.
‘Or you’ll have me thrown into a hedge?’ Thomas laughed. ‘Now that your constable knows my real name, I doubt he will be willing to help you with that. When I told him you’d been keeping my fiancée’s inheritance from her, he was more than willing to help me remove a few items from the house.’ He waved his hand. ‘Just to balance the score, you see.’ He glanced around him. ‘You won’t miss them. You might know the value of things, but you have no sense of taste.’
‘How dare you!’ Skeffington raised his cane to strike.
Thomas smiled up at him. ‘That would be unwise. Especially as I’m really a duke and there’s a constable in the house. But bash away and let’s see what happens.’ He watched as the cane was lowered again.
‘You still do not have my permission to marry my granddaughter,’ he said, eyes blazing. ‘You will not have her.’
