Page 156 of Courting the Wrong Duke

“Fine.” She returned the poker and promptly reached for the heavy brass candlestick on the mantel instead. “Better?”

Rosalind stared at it. “That weighs half a stone.”

“Precisely.”

“It is hardly less conspicuous.”

“No, but it will be considerably more effective if Mr. Frost gives me reason to use it.”

Despite everything, a laugh threatened to escape Rosalind. “I thought William was the one you suspected of luring us into a trap.”

“Yes, but Gabriel is irritating me personally.”

Rosalind pressed her lips together, refusing to give Isabella the satisfaction of laughing.

Isabella tucked it against her side, partially concealed by the folds of her dressing gown. “If either gentleman attempts anything foolish, I intend to be prepared.”

Despite everything, Rosalind nearly laughed.

Then she thought of William’s face beneath the window.

The impulse disappeared.

“Come on.”

They slipped into the corridor and made their way toward the servants’ staircase, moving carefully through the darkened house. Rosalind knew every turn well enough that they needed no candle, though each creak beneath their feet seemed impossibly loud in the midnight silence.

William’s words followed her all the way down.

We found something.

Whatever anger she still carried toward him, whatever hurt remained from that afternoon, none of it could compete with the possibility that he had learned something that might lead her to Papa.

She reached for the handle and pushed it open.

William and Gabriel were waiting inside.

For several seconds, no one spoke.

Then William reached inside his coat and withdrew a folded sheet of paper.

“We found this in Algernon’s study.”

Rosalind crossed the kitchen immediately. Isabella followed, still carrying the candlestick, though more as mere trinket she had forgotten she was holding than a weapon.

William unfolded the letter upon the table. “It was addressed to Algernon,” he explained. “There is no signature.”

Rosalind looked down at the page. “Who wrote it?”

“We do not know.”

William moved the candle closer, and Rosalind began to read.

The first lines meant little to her. The writer complained of Algernon’s temper and the increasing difficulty of speaking to him. Farther down, however, the words changed.

You must make a decision regarding the prisoner at Bryn Hir. He cannot remain there indefinitely.

Rosalind stopped breathing as Isabella leaned closer beside her.