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“Are you saying she’s…run away?”
“I-I don’t know, Your Grace. Her things are still present.”
“What things?”
“Clothes and such.”
“Have you spoken to the guards at the gate? Did they see her?”
“No, they did not, Your Grace. But…”
“What? Just spit it out, Crowley.”
“Well…a large group of soldiers’ wives come and go every day, usually after dinner. They don’t pay so much attention to them when they are goingoutas opposed to comingin.”
Bertram turned away. He wouldn’t blame her if she had decided to leave in a fit of pique, but he would have hoped that she would at least say goodbye to George.
Perhaps that’s why she baked him a special dessert.
His heart sunk with disappointment. Taking a deep breath, he turned to the footman with a contrived smile.
“That will be all, Crowley. Thank you.”
The footman bowed and backed out of the room as Bertram downed the rest of his brandy. He stared out of the window for a long time before nodding once and turning to leave the room. He would go to bed, and in the morning, he would send a letter to Wellington, apprising him of Miss Strange’s escape. After that, it would be out of his hands.
He ignored the pain in his chest as he plodded up the stairs to bed. To his immense relief, sleep came easily and he gladly sunk into unconsciousness.
* * *
Letty ran along the downs, relishing the cold wind on her face, the tuneful swish-swish of the grass as she cut a swathe through it. She slid her way down to the beach and over to the cove where she might find a reply to her message. She felt along the stony cold ground with her hand but with no success. She leaned back with a sigh.
No message?
Her eyes looked out to sea. The surf was black and intimidating in the starlight. The tide was rising and she suddenly felt unsafe. With a small sob, she turned back.
“This was not wise.” She berated herself as she ran back to the manor house. She slipped in through the neighbor’s gate and crept to the bottom of the gardens, praying that the dogs wouldn’t sense her. There was still a fair amount of foot traffic, guards patrolling, and she kept to the shadows. Just as she came up to the bottom gate, she caught sight of a man jumping over it, going towards Rose Manor.
She stopped, frowning, before hastening her footsteps to follow him. By the way he moved from shadow to shadow, she could only deduce that he did not want to be seen by anyone.
She elected to follow him, creeping along behind him. She saw him pick the lock to the side door to the manor and wondered if should she raise the alarm or see what he was up to.
They might not believe me.
Considering that she’d crept away herself, they might even think the man was with her. Instead, she kept as close as she could to the man, without him seeing her. She held her breath in fear as she saw the man ease into the Duke’s chamber. She took off running, grateful that she’d taken her shoes off so that her stockinged feet made no sound.
She pushed the door open and ran in, seeing the man looming over the Duke. They seemed to be struggling together. She screamed, running at the man and pushing him to the floor. His head fell back with a loud thump and he grunted.
Letty was on him immediately, fisting her hand and slamming it down on whatever part of his body she could. She fully expected that he would buck her off at any minute but before he could the Duke was there, kicking him in the head. She moved aside at once, letting him subdue the intruder even as she stayed poised and ready to help.
Suddenly the man’s feet dropped to the ground and his body lay limp. Breathing hard, the Duke got to his feet.
“You all right, Bertie?”
He whipped his head around, eyebrows raised. “Bertie?”
She shrugged playfully. “It suits you. And you kissed me, so calling you by your title seems superfluous.”
“Donotcall me Bertie in front of my staff.” He tried to glare even as his chest was still heaving with the effort of subduing his assailant.
