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“Yes?”
He fumbled in his coat pocket before drawing out a letter. “His Grace said I was to place this in your hands and no other’s.”
“Thank you.” Artemis took the letter, staring for a moment at the embossed seal.
“Here, Miss,” the lad said, holding out his butter knife. He had a fresh, country face, though he must’ve come from London. “To break the seal.”
She smiled her thanks—rather tremulously, she was afraid—and hastily broke the seal. The letter held only one sentence, but it meant the world:
He is alive at my house.
—M
Artemis exhaled a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. Oh, thank God. Alive.
She must go to him at once.
About to leave the kitchen, the letter clutched in her fist, she remembered the messenger with a pang. She turned back to him. “I’m afraid I forgot to bring my purse down, but if you’ll wait here, I’m sure I have a shilling for you.”
“No need, Miss.” The lad grinned in a friendly way. “His Grace is a generous master. He said as how I wasn’t to accept coin from you.”
“Oh.” Artemis said. That Maximus had thought to spare her the embarrassment of having no money for the messenger made her heart warm. “Well, I thank you, then.”
The lad nodded cheerfully and went back to his breakfast.
Artemis hurried back to the stairs. She’d half-convinced Penelope yesterday that there wasn’t much point in staying if their host had left for “business” in London. Perhaps she could get her cousin to arise a bit earlier than usual.
The upper hall was dim when she made her door, but she could hear a footman hurrying away further down the corridor. Artemis pushed open the door and went to the dresser to begin a hasty toilet. She’d learned long ago how to dress herself without help, as Papa had been able to afford a maidservant only irregularly. So she dressed in her usual brown serge and sat to put up her hair, and only then noticed something odd: her hairbrush had been placed bristle side down. She always left it up—the back was made of common wood, and the boar’s bristles were the most delicate part of the brush.
Had the maid moved it?
But the fire hadn’t yet been made. The maid hadn’t been to her room this morning.
Artemis pulled out the top drawer of her dresser. Her paltry collection of stockings lay inside and seemed as usual. But the next drawer…
The corner of one of her chemises was caught in the drawer, the edge sticking out. She couldn’t be entirely certain—perhaps she had shut the drawer hastily herself—but she thought not.
Someone had been in her room. Someone had gone through her things.
Artemis recalled the sound of retreating footsteps as she’d neared her door. Had Maximus sent orders for one of his footmen to search her room whilst she was called to the kitchen to see his messenger? It seemed an odd thing for him to do, and she couldn’t think why he’d do it. Perhaps to get back his ring without asking for it?
She drew out the chain from the fichu she’d donned and examined again the ring and pendant. They winked silently in her palm. She shook her head and tucked the pendant and ring back into her bodice. The ring belonged to Maximus, and she would give it to him as soon as she saw him in London.
As soon as she saw Apollo.
The rest of her toilet took minutes, and then she was hurrying to Penelope’s room.
Her cousin was naturally still abed, but after an interminable two-hour wait, Penelope was ready to go down for breakfast.
“I don’t know why we must rise so early,” Penelope grumbled. “After all, if Wakefield has flown off to London, there’s no one to see me, is there?”
“What about Scarborough?” Artemis asked absently and then felt like groaning. The last thing she needed was to encourage Penelope to stay for the elderly duke.
“Scarborough is charming enough.” Penelope’s cheeks actually pinkened despite her casual words. “But he’s not as rich as Wakefield, nor as powerful.”
“He’s a duke,” Artemis said softly as they entered the long room at the back of the house where breakfast was served. “And he likes you.”
“Oh, do you think so?” Penelope stopped and glanced at her, her expression shy.
