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Her understanding of the nobility was that they had dissolute, wastrel lifestyles that resulted in puffy eyes, sagging jowls, and receding hair by the time they were thirty. Even the fact that he was a military officer could not have prepared her for the tall, broad-shouldered man, his back stiff as an iron post, his jaw severe and well defined, his hands large, calloused and capable, his eyes clear and sharp. He made her heart race just by looking at her, for it felt as if he could see right down to her soul.
Who is this man?
She had not expected the man who clearly neglected his son to touch her so deeply and so fast. It made her even more determined to find the letters she’d been sent to find, commit them to memory, and leave. Rose Manor was like quicksand, the more she moved around in it, the deeper it sucked her down.
“I will not be sidetracked,” she murmured to herself. People were depending on her.
“What did you say?”
She jumped, having forgotten she was not alone in the kitchen. “N-nothing. Just…” she straightened up to face the housekeeper, “do you not find him extremely infuriating?”
Mrs. Gendry pinched her nose and shut her eyes with a sigh. “Don’t tell me you’ve developed atendressefor the Duke as well. I thought you smarter than that.”
The blood drained from Letty’s face. “What? Why would you say that? I am not attracted to that man. Just because he makes me angry does not mean I have atendressefor him. You have been watching too many of those puppet shows that come to the park.”
Mrs. Gendry laughed. “Whatever you say, dear. But just remember, His Grace is out of your reach.” With that she took hold of his tray and lifted it, clearly going to bring him his tea. George had long followed his father, his own plate of cakes in hand. Letty remembered her work and marched to her station where she’d left some bread to rise. She took out her frustration by beating the dough into submission before retiring to her room for the evening. She would have to be up with the birds in order to bake the bread and so she really should go to sleep right away.
But if he is having tea in his study, surely that means that it is open. Perhaps after he has left, I can go in.
Deciding to have a small nap, she resolved to wake up later, and go to try her luck. Suddenly she froze, the housekeeper’s words coming back to her. “Wait, what did she mean,as well?”
* * *
Letty startled awake, to a darkened room, and sat up feeling disoriented. It took her a moment to remember where she was and what she was doing there. It was a downside to her life that sometimes she moved around so much that it was difficult to remember her location or what piece of intelligence she was meant to be looking for.
She crept out of bed, peeking out the window, trying to tell the time by the location of the moon. From its position, she guessed that it was about midnight, a good time for spying. Not dressing, she covered her shift with a cloak and wore a pair of sturdy shoes which did not make a sound on the stone floors in the corridors or on the wooden floors of the chambers.
Slowly, Letty made her way down the darkened staircase, dodging footmen, until she reached the ground floor. The Duke’s study was located at the end of a long corridor which tended not to be well-lit even when the household was awake. Now it was just a wall of blackness in front of her. She could not see a thing, the door not letting even a sliver of light through, should the Duke still be in there. She hoped that there was no footman standing around in the dark otherwise it was going to be quite awkward for them both.
Stepping quietly, she placed her head against the door, listening hard for any signs of life. She held her breath, and closed her eyes, trying to pick out every sound she could hear. Something skittered along the floor but by the sound of it, she concluded it was either a rat or a spider. Somewhere along a corridor, a clock chimed the half hour. She heard shuffling footsteps on a floor somewhere above her but in front of her there was nothing.
Very cautiously, she turned the knob, praying with everything she had that it would open.
Nothing happened for a moment and then the lock clicked and the door was open. She uttered a soundless whoop of delight and then crept into the office. Aside from the light of the moon, the room was in utter darkness. Thankfully, there was no heavy curtain keeping the rays of light out and so she could see the desk clearly. A few papers sat upon it, along with a cheroot in an ashtray and a bottle of brandy with an empty glass beside it.
Slowly, she crept around the desk and leaned down to try to read the paper. After blinking a few times, she realized it was a requisition form for goods including meat and dairy, hides and skins and furs.
Hmm, stocking up for the winter?Does that mean they intend to keep fighting through the cold months?
Letty snatched up the paper, going to the window to read off each item. There was no heading to the page or anything to indicate what the items were for but by the quantities, Letty ventured to guess that they were for the Duke’s own regiment.
She put the paper back down and bent over, examining the desk drawers.
“They seem par for the course. No hidden compartments?” she murmured to herself as she felt around beneath the desk. Finding nothing, she reached for the drawer and tried to pull it open.
“Locked! Zooterkins!” She groaned, wishing that she’d remembered to carry her hat pin, with which she could pry the lock open. She might not get a chance like this again.
She looked around for something that she might use but the desk was oddly bare of knickknacks. With a sigh, she went to the next drawer, and the next—all three were locked tight.
“Well, at least I know where to look now.” She got to her feet and made her way out of the room, closing the door behind her. Walking back to her chambers, she was lost in thought, wondering how long she might have before the Duke made off again and what her chances were of succeeding. He seemed particularly careful of his correspondence, no doubt because he knew that it might be of immense interest to the French. She groaned in frustration. “Why couldn’t you just have been an ordinary fool?” she asked the absent Duke.
“I beg your pardon?”
She bit back a scream even as she jumped back, the voice seeming to come out of nowhere. She wondered if she might slip away without being seen but a hand came out of the dark and closed itself around her arm, holding her in place.
“Of course,” a rather familiar, biting voice said. “It had to be you.”
She debated whether it might be better to keep quiet or speak. Before she could, he was talking again. “May I ask what you are doing skulking about in the middle of the night?”
