Delaney leaned her head slightly closer to the doorfra, her interest completely piqued.
Mrs. Blinda wiped her hands on her large white apron and leaned forward, her eyes wide with eager curiosity.
"Go on, Mary," Mrs. Blinda urged the younger girl. "What did the master do? The house has been upside down since he returned from London yesterday."
Mary, the kitchen maid, looked around the empty kitchen to ensure no one else was listening before she continued her scandalous tale.
"It happened two days ago," Mary whispered loudly. "While he was packing for his sudden trip to London, and while the mistress was away attending her long afternoon tea party."
Delaney frowned in the shadows. Aunt Eunice hated the quiet country life, so she often spent her entire afternoons drinking tea and complaining with the other local ladies. It was the perfect opportunity for Cole to do as he pleased.
"The master brought a woman into the house," Mary revealed, her eyes practically popping out of her head with the scandal of it all.
Mrs. Blinda gasped, clapping a floury hand over her mouth. "A woman? A mistress? Right here in the manor? Under the mistress’s own roof?"
"Yes!" Mary nodded vigorously, flour flying from her hands. "A woman from the village. She was wearing a cheap red dress, and she slled strongly of cheap perfu and gin. He sneaked her in through the side door by the gardens."
Outside in the hallway, Delaney felt a cold wave of absolute disgust wash over her. Her uncle was not only a murderer and a thief, but he was also a blatant adulterer who disrespected his own ho.
"Heaven preserve us," Mrs. Blinda muttered, shaking her head. "If Lady Eunice finds out, she will burn this house to the ground. Where did he take her?"
"That is the worst part, Mrs. Blinda," Mary said, lowering her voice even further, making Delaney strain to hear every word. "He did not take her to the guest rooms. He took her directly into the private locked study."
Delaney’s breath hitched in her throat. The study.
"The master’s private study?" Mrs. Blinda asked, deeply shocked. "But he never lets anyone inside that room! He carries the brass key on a heavy chain attached to his pocket watch every single day. He even sleeps with it on his bedside table!"
Delaney’s mind instantly committed that crucial piece of information to mory. The key is attached to his pocket watch. That ant it was rarely, if ever, separated from his person during the day.
"Well, he unlocked it for her," Mary continued, her voice filled with a mixture of disgust and eager gossip. "And they stayed in there for over an hour. When the woman finally left, she looked completely disheveled. The master locked the door behind her and imdiately called for to bring him a fresh pot of coffee."
"Did you see inside?" Mrs. Blinda pressed eagerly.
"I did," Mary nodded, leaning closer to the cook. "When he opened the door to take the tray from , I saw the room over his shoulder. It was completely ssed up, Mrs. Blinda! Papers were scattered everywhere on the floor. A velvet chair was knocked over. The entire room slled like cheap perfu and spilled brandy. It looked as though a wild animal had been let loose in there."
Mrs. Blinda tutted loudly, shaking her head in deep disapproval. "The absolute sha of it. And then he left for London the very next morning?"
"Yes," Mary confird. "He left the room exactly as it was. He simply locked the door, pocketed the key, and ordered the carriage to London. The room is still a terrible, ssy disaster, and no maid is allowed inside to clean it."
Outside the kitchen door, Delaney slowly backed away from the shadows.
She did not need to hear any more of their gossip. She had just been handed the most vital, crucial piece of information she could possibly ask for.
Her uncle’s study was currently a complete, chaotic ss.
Papers were scattered everywhere on the floor. Books were likely knocked off the shelves. The room was in total disarray.
If Delaney could sohow get her hands on the brass key attached to his pocket watch, she could unlock the door, slip inside, and search for any hidden Oakridge silk ledgers.
And the absolute best part of the plan was that because the room was already a total disaster, Cole Kingsley would never realize soone else had been inside searching through his things. He would simply bla the scattered papers and the shifted boxes on his own scandalous afternoon with his mistress.
It was the perfect cover.
Delaney turned and walked swiftly down the hallway, her mind racing with a new, brilliant plan.
She needed the key. And she needed Cole Kingsley to sleep very, very deeply.
She walked quickly toward the servant quarters, her soft slippers making a rapid, determined sound on the floorboards. She reached the small, plain room where she had left her newly hired guard earlier that morning.
She knocked softly on the wooden door.
"Hamish," Delaney called out softly.
The door opened almost imdiately. Hamish stood there, looking completely alert and ready for action. He had already changed out of his traveling coat into a simple, clean shirt and dark trousers.
"Yes, Miss Kingsley?" Hamish asked respectfully, bowing his head.
"We are going into town imdiately," Delaney instructed, her voice crisp and fully commanding. "Have a small carriage prepared. We do not need the large family coach. A simple trap will do."
Hamish nodded once, a sharp, efficient movent. "Right away, Miss. What about the master of the house?"
" Don’t worry," Delaney replied quickly. She needed to leave before Cole sees her and starts asking questions about her errands. "He gave orders that I am to be accommodated. I need to buy so new dresses for my upcoming wedding. And..."
She paused for a fraction of a second, her hazel eyes turning incredibly dark and focused.
"...I need to visit the local apothecary," Delaney finished.
Hamish did not ask questions. He was a trained guard of the Hamilton estate, taught to obey without hesitation. "I will have the carriage ready at the front steps in ten minutes, Miss."
"Thank you, Hamish," Delaney replied.
She turned and hurried back up the grand staircase to her large bedchamber. She needed to fetch the small velvet pouch of gold coins her uncle had grudgingly given her that morning as part of her "marriage portion." She also needed to grab a dark, warm shawl against the biting country wind.
Ten minutes later, exactly as promised, a small, open carriage was waiting on the circular gravel driveway. Hamish sat up on the driver’s box, holding the leather reins of a single, sturdy brown horse.
Delaney climbed into the carriage, wrapping her dark shawl tightly around her shoulders.
Hamish clicked his tongue, and the horse set off at a brisk trot down the long, winding dirt road that led away from the Kingsley estate and toward the nearby village and into town.
The ride was quiet. Delaney watched the passing countryside, her mind completely focused on the task ahead.
They reached town an hour later. The cobblestone streets were lined with shops, bakers, and rchants.
"Stop at the dressmaker’s shop first, Hamish," Delaney instructed, pointing to a storefront with a painted sign.
She had to maintain her cover. If she only visited the apothecary, the gossips would surely report back to Aunt Eunice. She had to act exactly like a vain, excited bride preparing for a wealthy marriage.
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