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Chapter Eighteen
After his solitary breakfast in the dining room, Bertram decided to write to the Duke of Wellington about his prisoner.
Perhaps I should also start eating in the kitchens if I want company.
He could admit that he was feeling a little grumpy since both his son and Letty seemed to prefer to eat breakfast away from him. He also felt an urgent need to clarify to Letty that the kiss she’d seen between him and Lady Perrin meant nothing.
But how to do that without appearing callous?
He was aware that he had already overstepped by deigning to kiss her without so much as a by your leave. He needed to assure her that his intentions were pure.
Are they really?
He pushed away the thought as he stepped out of the dining room. First things first, he would find her mother. That would soften her heart enough to listen to him and really hear his apology. He just hoped her mother still lived. As he headed to his office, he summoned his steward to him.
“Jenkins, I have a task for you and I do not wish you to return until it is done.”
His steward’s eyebrows rose in alarm but to his credit he uttered no protest, but simply nodded. “What is it, Your Grace?”
“I require you to find Miss Strange’s mother. She will give you what details she has. Feel free to utilize any resource you might need.”
He could see the surprise on Jenkins’ face, the questions he was biting back but the man simply nodded his acquiescence.
“Yes, Your Grace.” He bowed and exited the room. Bertram sighed, relaxing his shoulders and dropped down onto the chair. He closed his eyes, rubbing at his face before remembering that he had yet to write to the Duke of Wellington. Huffing with resignation, he pulled his desk open and extracted a piece of paper, already regretting the absence of his steward.
Pulling the ink towards him, he dipped in his quill and began to write.
* * *
The prisoner was in a cell in the dungeon which was located in the cellars. After spending a morning collecting flowers for all the vases in the house with George, Letty decided to go down and see what she might extract from him. Nobody tried to stop her although sentries stood guard at every corner of the stairs. She walked past them until she came to his cell. He was sitting on the floor, hunched in on himself.
She narrowed her eyes, trying to determine if she had seen him before. He did not look familiar to her and so she concluded that the French had not sent him.
Of course, I do not knoweveryassassin.
But there was just something about him that did not seem to be French.
“Who sent you?” she asked softly.
He looked up at the sound of her voice and then stood up slowly. “You’re the one that stopped me.” He almost growled.
She frowned, wanting to step back from him but she was determined not to show him that she was afraid. “Yes, I am.”
He gritted his teeth. “Are you not the French spy? They said you’d be on my side.”
Her eyes narrowed as her heartbeat sped up. “Who are ‘they’?”
His brow furrowed as he drew nearer, looking her up and down curiously. Suddenly he laughed, nodding. “You’re very good. Pretending ignorance.” He lowered his voice confidentially, “I suppose you must so as to remain undetected.” He winked at her and she almost recoiled in disgust. Schooling her features, she gave him a smile.
“Well, I cannot…I have no idea what you mean but I have received no word fromanyoneto expect your presence here.”
He grinned, winking again. “O’ course. I mean, I understand that you don’t know anything. Are you here to let me out? Did you attack me to gain his trust?”
Letty blinked a few times, having a bit of trouble hiding her reactions to his implications. Had theFrenchordered this assassination? But why?
Maybe because I haven’t delivered.
She bit her lip, shaking her head minutely.
