Page 28 of His Noble Ruin

“No.” Graham shook his head. “I haven’t told anyone I’m even considering choosing someone else, except my cousin, Patrick—and now you know. But I can tell Sir Pearce has his suspicions.”

“And that’s why he wants you to delegate to your mother,” I said, revealing I knew more about politics than I’d let on. “She would keep him in his position.”

He nodded. “Yes . . . exactly.”

“That makes sense. But why does your mother want you to delegate to her so much?”

Graham’s eyes widened. “Why do you say that? Have you . . . heard something?”

“I read the news. I saw the questions the journalists asked you. It wasn’t hard to see the queen’s hand in them.”

He sighed. “I know she wants what’s best for Cambria. I haven’t always been the most responsible person and she knows that better than anyone. For a while, I’ve been considering delegating the throne to her . . . but after reading your book, I’m starting to believe change would be a good thing. In fact”—his eyes took on a sheen of pride—“this morning, in my anger, I stood up to her for the first time and told her I’d never give her power.”

I sat up straighter. It seemed my book had made an impact. A dangerous response was traveling to the tip of my tongue, but I wasn’t sure I could say it just yet. “Maybe it’s time to prove you’re responsible.”

“How?” asked Graham. “Besides being on time tonight?”

My pulse quickened. “Can I trust you to keep a secret?”

“Of course. I haven’t told anyone about your book, so I’m getting used to keeping your secrets.”

“Promise me you won’t tell a soul.”

He looked at me with solemn blue eyes. “I promise.”

I took a breath. “Rumors say that the outlaws are planning an attack.”

Before he had a chance to respond, the door to the study room burst open and a dramatic gasp sucked all the air from the room. Mrs. Whitting stepped inside, her hands covering her gaping mouth. “Miss Yarrow, this is highly inappropriate! You’re alone in a room with a man and you’re sittingthis close”—she took a better look at Graham and gasped again—“Sir Brennin! I am so terribly sorry this disrespectful girl is bothering you. I assure you this behavior will not be tolerated.” She looked back at me, her eyes blazing. “You are promptly and permanently dismissed.”

I stared back at her in shock, then looked at Graham to see his mouth hanging open. He looked as speechless as I was.

“Get up, Miss Yarrow” Mrs. Whitting shouted, “and get out.”

“Please, milady,” said Graham. “She was assisting me. I just . . . had a question.”

She turned to him, her anger dissolving into a sickly sweet smile. “It is so very gentlemanly of you to try to defend her, but I’m afraid this is indefensible.” She looked back at me, the smile instantly vanishing.

“Very well.” I stood up and left the room with heat in my veins. I followed the corridor, crossing the main room, then went through the door to the front steps, where I planned to wait for Graham. A carriage bearing the Brennin insignia—a blue horse on a white shield—waited at the base of the steps.

I swore and darted back inside the library, pressing my back against the solid wood door. I’d forgotten Patrick was out there. Things had already taken a turn for the worse and being seen by him would only make me sink lower. I only needed to know where I’d find Graham next. Then I’d leave.

“Miss Yarrow!” Mrs. Whitting’s furious voice echoed through the library. She had left the corridor and was headed toward me.

I huddled against the door, trying to decide whether I’d rather face Mrs. Whitting or let Patrick get suspicious about me.

Just then, the door beside me opened and a familiar man in a pressed suit pushed inside. Patrick looked at me and frowned.

If I stayed, I’d have to deal with them both.

I pulled the door open and ran down the steps, but before I passed the carriage and entered the street, Graham called to me.

I stopped, hesitating. I really,reallydidn’t want Patrick to get a better look at me than he already had, but I didn’t want to walk away from Graham, not now, when I was so close to getting what I needed.

“Miss Yarrow, wait!” he shouted.

I turned around.

He ran down the steps toward me.

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