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Chapter Twenty-Six
Following the disappearance of the ledger, Thomas nearly forgot his injuries altogether and set about calling for a carriage to take him to Gerard’s bachelor pad. He doubted Gerard was there, not if he was out at some unknown location pursuing a lead on the footman, but Thomas could not just sit at home and twiddle his thumbs.
Had the footman taken the ledger before the attack? Had the Duke of Alderleaf, if he was the culprit, sent one of his own agents into Elvington Manor? Was the lost ledger simply a coincidence?
No, Thomas thought as he struggled back into the hall, and then down the stairs.There are too many suspicious goings on for them all to be coincidences. It is high time you accepted this.
“Your Grace,” said the butler, stopping short in the foyer when he saw Thomas struggling to make his way to the bottom of the stairs. “Forgive my impudence, but should you not be recovering in bed?”
“I wish I had the luxury of doing so, but there are dark intentions afoot!”
The butler looked stunned. “Dark intentions? Is this related to your accident? Do you wish me to call upon the Constable?”
Thomas, caught up in violation and confusion, nearly blurted the whole situation out.
But the butler looked genuinely concerned. As though whatever Thomas said, he would see to his needs with respect and consideration. He had served their family for years, after all—Thomas could not remember a time when the butler was not a constant, reassuring presence in the household.
Perhaps Thomas had not been nearly so accustomed to the footman currently under suspicion, but had he not carried himself with a similar considerate demeanor?
The ledger had vanished from this very house. Anyone, even those Thomas previously believed trustworthy, could be the culprit.
“No…” Thomas said slowly, as though dazed. He took one shaky step backwards up the staircase. A sharp pain shot through his side, but he ignored it. “No, that will not be necessary.”
“Is there anythingat allyou require, Your Grace?” the butler insisted, taking a step forward so that he was at the very bottom of the stairs, looking as though he very much wished to follow Thomas up and keep a proper eye on him. “I would certainly be obliged to provide it.”
Thomas nearly waved him away once more, but hesitated at the last moment. “The guard who patrols the property at night…”
“What about him, Your Grace?”
“See to it that he is provided with a watchdog.”
If the butler was surprised by this request, he did not show it, such was the depth of his propriety. He bowed his head slightly. “Of course, Your Grace. Consider it done.”
Thomas returned to his father’s study, where he stood in the middle of the room for a long time, lost in tumultuous thoughts. His body hurt. His head pounded. He didn’t know what to do with his hands.
He felt useless.
Where the devil is Gerard?Thomas thought with a fresh swell of frustration. It wasn’t his brother he was angry with, of course. He was angry with the situation and the mystery culprit who had caused them such grief.
Thomas wanted desperately to take to the streets and roam around until he found Gerard and they could discuss the missing ledger together, but now that he had taken a moment to consider that maybe it wasn’t the wisest move to blindly trust their staff, he knew he would have to remain stationary until his brother’s return.
Whenever that would be.
Thomas sighed and at last sat down at the desk. If he could not go out in pursuit of Gerard, or go over the correct ledger, that left him with two options: return to bed, or draft a letter to Lady Evelina.
The choice wasn’t a difficult one—he was far too restless to just sleep. He got out parchment and ink and set about his message.
Dearest Evelina,
There have been rather intense developments in the mystery of the conflict between our fathers. I
Thomas ceased writing. He bit his lip, uncertain how to move forward. How was he to explain the carriage robbery?Shouldhe explain the carriage robbery, if there was at all a chance that Gerard was correct and her father was behind all this madness?
His heart felt cold in his chest at the very notion of distrusting Lady Evelina out of an overabundance of caution. What would that do to their relationship, which was admittedly still new, and already under such a great deal of external stress?
“Blast it all,” Thomas said, letting his aching head fall into his hands. “How am I ever to make sense of any of this?”
Hours later, Thomas was still sitting at the desk, his head pounding worse than ever, and the sides of his hands dirty with ink at his many attempted drafts of the letter to Evelina. He still was no closer to saying what he wanted to say, or what needed to be said.
