The morning sun crept slowly through the tall glass windows of the Hamilton House breakfast room. It ward the polished table and made the silver teapots gleam.
Rowan ca down for breakfast. He walked into the quiet room, his boots making a soft, steady sound on the carpet. He wore a perfectly tailored dark morning coat and a crisp white cravat. He sat at the head of the long table, waiting for the family to arrive. He was early, as usual. The great Duke of Ford possessed an internal clock that never failed him, even after a night of deep, emotional confessions.
The heavy wooden doors swung open a few minutes later.
Aunt Margery was the first to walk in.
Rowan looked up from his empty plate. He instantly squeezed his eyes shut and let out a soft, pained groan.
Aunt Margery was wearing a dress of the brightest, most aggressive yellow silk known to mankind. It was completely covered in small, ruffled tiers that bounced with every step she took.
"That damn daffodil delight," Rowan thought to himself, rubbing his temple. It was the exact sa dress that had nearly blinded him weeks ago in the drawing room. It was entirely too cheerful for a man who had barely slept.
But Aunt Margery did not care about his sensitive eyes. Her yellow dress rustled loudly as she marched straight toward the head of the table. She reached down, wrapped her arms around Rowan’s broad shoulders, and hugged him tightly. She kissed his right cheek, and then his left cheek, leaving a faint trace of lavender powder on his skin.
"It’s such a joyous day," Aunt Margery bead. Her wrinkled face was completely lit up with a massive, triumphant smile. She patted his shoulder one last ti before she turned and went to her seat near his right hand.
Rowan blinked, trying to clear the spots of yellow from his vision. Before he could ask her why she was so incredibly happy, the doors opened again.
Carcel and Ines walked into the room together, walking arm-in-arm. Close behind them was Delaney.
Rowan’s eyes imdiately left the bright yellow dress and locked onto Delaney. She was wearing a simple, elegant dress of dark brown wool. Her dark hair was pinned up neatly. When she t his gaze, a soft, beautiful pink blush crept up her cheeks. She rembered the safety of his arms in the dark study the night before. Rowan offered her a very small, very private smile that belonged only to her.
They all took their seats around the table. The footn stepped forward, pouring hot coffee and tea into the delicate china cups.
Ines took a sip of her tea. She set the cup down and looked across the table at her aunt. She noticed the bright dress and the massive smile.
"Aunt Margery," Ines asked, tilting her head to the side in pure curiosity. "What is the occasion? You look more cheerful than usual. You look like a woman who has just won a large sum of money at the card tables."
Aunt Margery laughed. It was a proud, ringing sound. She reached for a piece of buttered toast.
"We have a lead," Aunt Margery replied calmly, though her eyes were dancing with excitent.
The entire table went completely still. Carcel stopped reaching for the bacon. Rowan set his silver fork down on the white tablecloth with a sharp clink. Delaney held her breath.
"The letters I sent out yesterday have been responded to," Aunt Margery continued, leaning forward and lowering her voice into a conspiratorial whisper. "Well, one of them, at least. My dear friend, Lady Posie, wrote back to this very morning. I told her it was urgent."
Aunt Margery took a small bite of her toast, chewing slowly to build the suspense. Rowan gripped the edge of the table.
"There was a servant that was dismissed three years ago from the Farrington household," Aunt Margery finally revealed.
Rowan leaned forward, his broad shoulders tense with sudden, sharp interest. "Who, Aunt Margery?"
Margery looked directly at her nephew.
"Miss Flora," Aunt Margery stated clearly. "She was Lady Celine’s personal handmaiden. She dressed the girl, brushed her hair, and slept in the small room connected to her bedchamber. A handmaiden knows every single secret a young lady possesses."
Delaney’s hazel eyes widened. If Lady Celine was hiding a terrible secret from three years ago, her handmaiden would absolutely know the truth.
"But," Aunt Margery added, her face turning serious, "no one knows where she is. She vanished from London society completely. It seems Lord Farrington hid her well."
Rowan nodded his head slowly. His sharp, calculating mind turned the new information over and over.
"Interesting," Rowan murmured. A man did not hide a simple servant unless that servant was a massive threat to his family na.
"Indeed," Aunt Margery replied, taking a sip of her tea. "And do you wish to know the official reason the Farringtons gave for her sudden departure? She was dismissed for theft."
"Theft?" Ines repeated, frowning.
"Yes," Aunt Margery confird. "They claid she was stealing Lady Celine’s jewelry and selling them off in the dark alleys of the city."
The mont the word ’theft’ hung in the air, Carcel and Rowan shared the exact sa look.
It was a dark, knowing look passed between two n who understood exactly how the corrupt corners of the world worked.
Accusing a servant of theft was the oldest, most common trick in the nobility’s playbook. If a servant saw sothing they should not have seen, you accused them of stealing. A thief was a criminal. And no one in polite society would ever believe the word of a common criminal over the word of an Earl. It completely destroyed the servant’s credibility.
Rowan turned his head to look at his brother-in-law.
"Would it be difficult for you and Vance to find out the location, brother?" Rowan asked. His voice was completely serious. They needed to find this Miss Flora. She was the key to breaking the marriage contract and saving the Hamilton estate.
User Comments
0 comments from readers