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“Thomas?” Gerard appeared in the doorway. “I was just on my way to your room. What are you doing out of bed?”
Thomas raised his head and regarded his brother with a dead-eyed expression. “What are you doing gallivanting about London, when someone has broken into Father’s study and stolen the relevant records?”
Gerard froze, halfway to the chair opposite Thomas. “Someone broke into the manor?”
The stunned look on Gerard’s face sent a little thrill of pettiness through Thomas—that’s what Gerard got for abandoning him all afternoon—but it was quickly subsumed by guilt. “That, or the footman took it. Or another member of our staff.”
Gerard pulled himself the rest of the way around the chair and flopped into it, as though the weight of the world were on his shoulders. “It was almost definitely the footman.”
Thomas straightened. “You’ve learned something?”
“I didn’t just go out at random, Thomas. I had a lead to pursue.” He gave Thomas a warning look. “And when I share what I’ve found with you, please, promise me you will keep your head.”
At this point, Thomas could promise nothing. He nodded anyway.
Gerard exhaled and straightened himself in the chair. Somehow, exhausted and disheveled, he still managed to come across as stately. “Before joining our staff last January—the very month of Father’s demise—the footman was employed by Alderleaf Manor.”
