“Your Grace!”
A young footpad was racing down the hall, waving a note to him. Two footmen chased after the filthy young boy. Dominic stopped in the hall to stare. He motioned for the lad to stop and then nodded at his footmen to hang back.
Then he focused on the boy. “Who are you?”
“No one, guv. But I’ve got something for you.” He waved the paper before shoving it in Dominic’s hands. “Well? That’s worth a shilling at least!”
One of his footmen was bent over gasping for breath. “Apologies, Your Grace. He caught us unexpected. Ran right through.”
Smirking, the lad glanced at them before focusing back on Dominic. Then he put out his hand.
“Very well.” Dominic pulled out a shilling. “And who sent you?”
“A pretty lady.”
He stiffened at the brag. Not because of the boy but he recognized Verity’s handwriting. Alarm spread through his limbs. Was she hurt? Injured? They had only been parted for a few hours. Nothing could have happened during their short time apart. Could it?
The missive was a short piece of paper bent over thrice with a familiar seal. He pulled out his knife to cut it quickly. His stomach dropped at the short note his wife had sent him.
‘Dominic,
Cassian has gone to the magistrate to confess! Come at once. Please.
V.’
CHAPTER 34
Verity closed her eyes to rub her brows.
It was supposed to calm down the wild beating of her heart as she paced through the grand hall of her family’s home. But no matter how much she slowed her breathing or sipped tea––while standing, no matter how wrong it felt––she couldn’t relax.
“Tell me again,” she said upon her return to the side door where the young boy had returned after she’d sent the missive.
I should have sent a footman. Only I thought he would be swifter. I should have thought to find someone large enough to drag the duke back here.
The boy, Cory, couldn’t be more than ten years of age, though he sighed like he had lived a very long life. He didn’t want to repeat himself a third time. She didn’t blame him. But she needed to be certain she wasn’t missing anything.
Slouching with his hands in his pockets, the boy said, “I ran to the duke’s ‘ouse. ‘e was there. I gave it to the guv, touched and all, and ‘e said it would be seen to. I said I needed a note back and ‘e said we would be seeing the note back soon’nough.”
“And?”
“And so I left. Came ‘ere, didn’t I?”
“Without a response from the duke.”
“There wasn’t one to give.”
She paused and narrowed her eyes. “Did he give you another coin?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Wasn’t ‘nough, I can tell you that much,” he said while smacking his lips.
Verity walked speedily back to him and crouched down, studying his filthy face. Cory was a boy she’d used for messages before. Fast and familiar with the streets of Mayfair, he also knew how to keep a secret. She had even taught him his letters to help with the errands.
And I’d teach him more if he wanted to, but the boy prefers the streets and having a trusted errand boy is very useful. Except for a day like today.
“You’re certain,” Verity said carefully, “he made no motion to write you a reply or to follow you back here? You’re absolutely certain?”
“Aye, m’lady. I even waited for ‘im to prepare a carriage like the dandies do. The duke jumped in a saddle and took the other direction. Fast, too. Did you scare ‘im out of London?”
