by Joyce Alec
Susanna did not know how long she sat there for. She grew cold, feeling almost frozen in place as the light of dawn began to come more fully through the windows, and still, she waited. At any moment, the gentleman might reappear, might suddenly reach out to grasp at her should she even think to reveal herself. Susanna could not risk being discovered, her eyes growing heavy as she tried to keep herself both awake and steady.
The first sound that broke her lethargy was that of a maid. She was humming a monotonous tune as she walked smartly through the front hall, clearly entirely unaware of Susanna’s presence. No words of surprise came from the maid’s mouth, no exclamation of shock upon seeing a gentleman waiting there. Perhaps she would be safe after all.
Waiting until the maid’s footsteps had died away, Susanna pushed herself up from where she had been sitting, finding her bones sore and complaining with the pain of being forced into a different position. She even limped just a little as she began to make her way toward the staircase, her back and legs stiff and aching. Hurrying as best she could, Susanna climbed the stairs with quiet feet, still praying desperately that the gentleman was not waiting for her somewhere. To be discovered now would bring everything to ruin!
Her heart in her throat and one hand pressed to her chest, Susanna rounded the corner that would take her back to her bedchamber, only to slam into something—or someone—solid. Thrown back, she let out a small exclamation, before a strong hand caught her arm and pulled her back to her feet. Terror gripped her heart as she looked up, fearful that she had been discovered, only to see the astonished face of Lord Knightsbridge looking down at her.
Relief swept through her like a raging torrent.
“Oh, Lord Knightsbridge!”
Without hesitation, she practically threw herself into his arms, her hands against his chest, her head on his shoulder. Her breathing became ragged as she attempted to stop the tears from falling and keep herself entirely under control, but her fatigue and the strain of what she had endured were too much. Tears trickled from her eyes as Lord Knightsbridge wrapped his arms about her, encasing her in safety.
“My dear Miss Millerton,” he said, his voice very quiet indeed. “Is something wrong?”
She looked up at him, aware that he had not yet fully released her from his arms.
“I—I went to put the note by the front door,” she said hoarsely, “when I heard something. Someone…someone has been in your study, Lord Knightsbridge!” She saw his eyes flare, his hands now rising up to rest on her shoulders, his expression one of concern.
“What do you mean?” he asked, still keeping his voice low. “Someone was in my study? How can that be? It is locked securely and—”
“I am certain I heard a key being turned in the lock,” Susanna told him, glad that her eyes were no longer filled with tears. “Mr. Easthill had a key.”
Lord Knightsbridge’s eyes went wide, the color draining from his cheeks. “You are certain?” he asked after a few moments. “You are certain it was Mr. Easthill?”
Susanna closed her eyes and nodded. “I am certain,” she said quietly. “I saw him as I hid. I am certain it was his features bathed in the early morning light.”
Lord Knightsbridge did not immediately answer her, his eyes still fixed to hers and his lips pulled into a very thin line. It was only when the sound of a door being opened and then closed came to their ears that he let her go, his hands tight behind his back as he put distance between them.
“I—I should permit you to go,” he said with a gravity in his expression that Susanna had never seen before. “You look utterly exhausted.”
“I was hiding,” Susanna said simply. “I was too afraid to move in case I was discovered.”
His smile was tight but his eyes glowed with a sudden flicker of hope. “You must rest, Miss Millerton,” he said, reaching out to touch her shoulder for just a moment. “I will tell the maid not to rouse you and the others that you are overly fatigued. Please, rest.”
She searched his face. “And what will you do?”
Lord Knightsbridge shook his head. “Nothing,” he told her. “I shall do absolutely nothing other than to continue to treat everyone in the same manner as I have done before.” Tilting his head, he smiled at her. “I must go and seek what this new note instructs me to do, must I not? The last thing I need is to fail when I am expected to obey.”
“I am sorry for what it contains,” Susanna told him. “I must hope that—”
“It is not your fault.” His hand touched her cheek and in that moment, Susanna felt all the breath leave her body. Everything seemed to burn within her at once, her fatigue disappearing in an instant. She became very aware that there was no one else present, that it was just the two of them standing alone in the hallway—and that her desire was to lean back toward Lord Knightsbridge so that he might hold her in his arms again. Lord Knightsbridge seemed to be feeling much the same as she, for he took a step closer to her, his hands reaching out to take hers and something in his eyes that sent a jolt of lightening right through her.
And then the sound of footsteps caught their ears and he stepped back at once. Her cheeks flushed, Susanna dropped her head and hurried past him, suddenly afraid that the maid would come to find them both standing together in the hallway. Turning her head, she caught Lord Knightsbridge looking after her, a smile spreading broadly across his face as he watched her depart.
She had never felt such excited anticipation in her life.
10
The first thing Benedict did when he left Miss Millerton—albeit reluctantly—was to make his way to his study. He had been intending to go in search of the note he presumed Miss Millerton had left by the front door as she had done before, but now that he had spoken to her, he thought it best to leave it for his staff to discover, so that there could be no suspicion that he himself had been aware of the note’s presence before it was there.
The study door was locked tightly, just as Benedict had expected. Had he not been told by Miss Millerton that someone had been within, he would not have known it, for as he unlocked the door and stepped inside, it appeared as though everything was just as he had left it.
In fact, nothing seemed to be out of place at all. Benedict was a rather fastidious sort and kept his study in meticulous order, so he certainly would have noticed anything out of place. Sitting down carefully at his desk, he scrutinized his study, wondering what it was Mr. Easthill had been looking for—and where, precisely, he had managed to get the keys in order to open the study door. There was only one other set of keys within the house, and the housekeeper had them in her safe possession.
Unless they were taken from my bedchamber last evening, Benedict thought to himself, shifting uneasily in his chair. The keys to the house were always kept safely within his bedchamber and he did not think that anyone would dare go into his room to search for them. The only separate key was the one he had for his study, which was kept safely in his possession at all times, save for the occasions where he was required to leave it securely in his rooms. But those times were very few and far between, and Benedict could not even imagine how someone could have stolen the key from him.
“Then they must have taken it from the housekeeper,” he murmured aloud, thinking of the rather formidable Mrs. Jensen, who had been with the house for almost as long as Benedict could remember. He would be very surprised if the culprit had been successful, for Mrs. Jensen was not someone who would willingly give her keys to anyone, not even a guest.
“Mr. Easthill,” he muttered, pushing himself up from his chair and meandering around the room slowly, looking left and right in case something should catch his eye.
Nothing did.
Confused, Benedict threw himself down into an overstuffed chair by the well-lit fire which, even though it was the summer, was still required in the early mornings. Benedict shivered slightly, looking around the room again and finding himself rather disquieted by the idea that someone such as Mr. Easthill would have been se
en in his study. The fellow was quite well connected, with an upstanding character and certainly a trustworthy nature. Perhaps that was the trouble, Benedict reflected, rubbing one hand over his forehead. Perhaps he was much too innocent to ever be considered guilty.
Was this connected to his other difficulties with the smugglers at present? Was Mr. Easthill involved in some way? Or was his reason for being in Benedict’s study in the middle of the night for some other issue entirely?
Pulling open one of his drawers to shift through some papers, Benedict froze. He was quite certain that the papers he had placed on the top yesterday, before he had locked up his study, were not the ones that rested there now. Picking the sheaf of papers up carefully, he set them down in front of him and began to go through them all one at a time.
His heart seemed to skip a beat as he realized that the documents pertaining to his recent purchase of a ship were now no longer present. He had thought it a wise investment, had thought that it would bring him an additional income, but now it seemed that nothing relating to such a purchase now remained within his drawer. Hastily, he looked through the papers again to be quite certain but discovered that there were none there. Getting to his feet, he began to look through each and every drawer in his study but discovered, much to his shock, that they were gone. Most likely, he would not have noticed for some time. Being initially quite caught up with the house party and, thereafter, taking a sennight or so to relax and rest after it, he might not even have allowed his thoughts to turn back toward business matters for a while. But now that he had been made aware that someone had been searching his study, he had discovered the loss of those papers perhaps sooner than Mr. Easthill had intended.
Taylor.
Ringing the bell, Benedict waited impatiently until the butler opened it and stepped inside.
“Send for Mr. Taylor,” Benedict said tersely. “At once.”
The butler departed without a word, perhaps sensing the seriousness in Benedict’s expression. Again, Benedict was forced to wait, to do nothing other than pace up and down until finally, a scratch came at the door.
“Come in.”
Looking a little disheveled, Mr. Taylor came in at once, rubbing his hand over his head as he bowed.
“You managed to climb the stairs, then?” Benedict murmured, and the fellow nodded. “I am afraid I must ask you to climb the staircase, Taylor. I have a task waiting for you that I think only you can fulfill.”
Mr. Taylor’s eyes gleamed and he nodded fervently. “Anything, my lord.”
“Good.” Briefly, Benedict told him about what Miss Millerton had seen the previous evening and what it was he was now missing. Mr. Taylor’s eyes grew wider and wider as he listened, betraying his own admiration for Miss Millerton.
“I need you to go to Mr. Easthill’s rooms,” Benedict continued quickly. “We are all to go out this afternoon, you see.” Shrugging, and then wincing with the pain that shot through his shoulder, Benedict tried to smile. “I must know if he has the papers and, thereafter, I must know why he sought to steal them.”
Mr. Taylor nodded again, spreading his hands. “I would be happy to do whatever it is you ask of me, my lord,” he said with such a refreshing eagerness that Benedict felt himself grow a little excited. Perhaps they were nearing the end of their struggles. “But do not alert him to the fact that you have been in his room. Nothing must be out of place.”
Again, Mr. Taylor nodded. “I can do that, my lord.”
“Capital,” Benedict said with a small grin. “The guests are to take a trip to the nearest village this afternoon, simply to drive through and see it, you understand.” He spread his hands. “Do you think you would be able to do as I have asked in the time that we are out?”
Mr. Taylor smiled. “I am certain I could,” he answered with a spark in his eyes that Benedict found encouraging. “And if I find the papers, what I am to do with them?”
Benedict smiled. “Keep them with you,” he instructed. “Do not let anyone else know that you have them in your possession. But make quite certain that the room does not look as though you have been in it.”
“I am certain I will be able to do as you ask,” Mr. Taylor answered with a broad smile. “Then perhaps you will be able to find the person responsible for frightening Miss Millerton? The person you think is involved with those men in some way?”
“I must hope so,” Benedict answered, feeling a good deal more confident than ever before. “And it is all thanks to Miss Millerton.”
The trip to the village was a rather arduous one, Benedict considered. It was not as though it took a long time for them to drive to it, nor that the ladies were much too eager in their desire to get out from the carriages and wander through it, but rather that he felt such an eagerness to return to his estate and discover what Taylor had found that he felt every minute pass as though it were the duration of an hour. It was almost too torturous to withstand, for he had to continue to play the part of a contented and happy host whilst, all the time, he was thinking only of his papers.
“You are rather quiet this afternoon, Lord Knightsbridge.”
He smiled down at Miss Millerton, feeling such a gratitude for her strength of character, her determination to help him, and her willingness to come alongside him in his difficulty. Recalling the rush of tenderness that had overwhelmed him when he had first seen her that morning, when she had fallen into his arms, he felt heat begin to climb up his spine, threatening to warm his face and neck.
“How do you fare, Miss Millerton?” he asked carefully, making certain that they were not overheard. “Are you still fatigued?”
She shook her head. “I rested well for a few hours,” she told him, her fair curls brushed by the breeze, the rest of her locks hidden by her bonnet. Her eyes lingered on his face. “Might I ask what you found in your study?”
Keeping his voice low, he told her quickly what was missing and what he had asked Taylor to do. Miss Millerton’s eyes widened but she did not speak, allowing him to explain everything to her before she commented.
“I see,” she remarked, again looking about her so that no one would overhear her. “That is wise, Lord Knightsbridge.”
He considered for a moment before continuing. “When we return, I am to meet with Taylor in my study. Should you like to attend also?”
Miss Millerton nodded at once without hesitation. Her eyes caught his, a small frown flickering across her brow. “Do you think that you will truly be able to find out the truth? Do you believe Mr. Easthill is involved in some way?”
“I must hope so,” he answered quietly. “There have been times when I have wondered whether or not the men involved in such a scheme have had someone of influence involved.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Although I might well be mistaken.”
“But what other reason could there be to take such a document from you?” she asked. “Have you ever spoken to him of it before?”
Benedict hesitated, trying to remember. “I believe that I might have mentioned it during one of our evening meals,” he said, still rather uncertain.
“And was Mr. Easthill someone that you wished to invite or was he your mother’s suggestion?”
The answer was on his lips immediately. “My mother asked me to ensure that I gave her the names of the gentlemen that I wished to invite,” he said. “She was to invite everyone else.”
Miss Millerton’s eyes flickered with a sudden mirth. “Then you yourself were not particularly eager to have my presence here?” she asked with a lift of her eyebrow. “I am a little offended, Lord Knightsbridge.”
Opening his mouth to protest, Benedict quickly saw the gleam in her eye and found himself smiling ruefully. “I am very grateful indeed that my mother sought to give you an invitation,” he told her honestly. “Your presence here has brought my heart both joy and relief.”
She made to answer, only for her gaze to shift over his shoulder. A little flushed, she turned to greet Miss Longleat who, whilst she spoke to Miss Mille
rton, kept her eyes firmly focused on Benedict. She then stepped forward, directly in between them both, and began to speak to Benedict about his evening’s plans. Benedict could not help but smile, seeing how Miss Millerton blushed all the more as he caught her gaze. Evidently, Miss Longleat considered that he had spoken too much to Miss Millerton and now needed to spend a little time with her instead. Inclining his head just a little toward Miss Millerton, he turned his gaze to Miss Longleat and gave her attention she so obviously and eagerly desired.
“My lord, you have received a note.”
The butler handed it to him practically the moment Benedict arrived back at the house.
“I am sorry it was missed this morning,” he continued with a shake of his head. “I can only apologize. One of the footmen discovered it and—”
“It is quite all right,” Benedict answered quickly, taking the note without hesitation and placing it firmly in his pocket. “There have been no other messages or the like whilst we have been out?”
“None,” the butler answered. “There are refreshments for your guests waiting on the terrace, my lord, just as you requested.”
This was met by a few exclamations from the ladies behind him, who made no attempt to hide the fact that they had been listening to the butler. With a wry smile, Benedict turned around and directed them to where they were to go next, should they so wish it. This was met with great delight by all, save for Miss Longleat, who wished to rest for a short time before dinner, as did Miss Millerton. The latter, he knew, would make her way to the study in a short time, once she was sure the other guests were out on the terrace.
“I will have to excuse myself for a short time, Mother.” Benedict quickly caught his mother’s arm, pulling her away from the animated conversation she had been having with Lady Pendleton. “There is a matter of business that requires my attention, but I am sure that you will be able to keep all of my guests thoroughly entertained.”
