“You will return to your master and inform him that my wife needs more time to find the letters.” Devlin grabbed Biggs by the arm. “You will make no mention of speaking to me but confirm that you feel confident in Mrs Drake’s cooperation.”
Biggs nodded.
“Now, I shall escort you to the gate and see you on your way.” Devlin could not let the scoundrel leave without giving him a parting token. Though he would take great pains not to mar the man’s face. The last thing he wanted was to alert the baron.
Afterwards, he would see to it that Juliet soaked her cold bones in a warm bath. He may even join her. It would give him a chance to clear his mind for he needed full use of his faculties if he had any hope of solving this mystery.
During their game at Brooks’, the baron had informed the crowd exactly what he deemed important—money and reputation. As his hunt for the letters clearly had nothing to do with salvaging Miss Bromfield’s character, that left but one avenue of enquiry.
Had Ambrose ended the engagement because of the baron’s financial failings? A man like Ambrose married to secure his estates. He did not marry for love. The lack of a dowry would certainly explain why the baron had offered Juliet as payment for the wager. Particularly when Miss Bromfield would not have hesitated to rip Blackwater apart in her hunt for the evidence.
“How do I know you won’t kill me?” Biggs’ croaky voice drew Devlin from his musings.
An opportunity suddenly presented itself. Devlin cast the thug a wicked grin. “Because I want to see the baron’s account ledger, and you’re going to steal it and bring it to me.”
Chapter Fourteen
Water squelched in Juliet’s boots and dripped from her sodden dress as she hurried up the stairs to her bedchamber. The cold water in the brook had held her in its frigid grip, leeched every ounce of heat from her bones. The spasms had started, the shaking, the chattering teeth, the inability to place her feet on the stairs without her knees buckling. But thoughts of a warm fire, of sinking her limbs into the steaming hot bathtub forced her to the bedchamber door.
Mrs Barbary’s hollow cheeks and disdainful gaze had conveyed the extent of her disapproval. “The mistress must rise above these boisterous antics,” the woman had said, believing the story that Juliet and Devlin had slipped down the bank and into the water during their midnight stroll. “The mistress of the house must be beyond reproach.”
What gave the housekeeper the right to judge?
What gave her the right to express her opinion?
Perhaps she believed those born out of wedlock lacked morals, believed that Juliet would be the downfall of the Drake family. That her children would have tainted blood and run amok like wild rapscallions.
Shaking thoughts of Mrs Barbary from her mind, Juliet pushed open the chamber door. Upon first glance the room was unchanged. But the gap in the curtains told her she had not imagined seeing a figure at the window.
Juliet scanned the dimly lit room, found no sign of disturbed drawers. Yet she could not shake the feeling that someone had violated her private domain.
A knock at the door brought the maid Tilly, accompanied by two footmen laden with buckets of water.
Tilly bobbed a curtsy. “Oh, ma’am, let me move the tub and then I shall help you out of those wet clothes.” She hurried to the far corner of the room, folded back the dressing screen and hauled the bath to a position closer to the fire.
While the footmen emptied the steaming buckets, Tilly rushed to Juliet’s side. “It’s too dark to go walking by the brook at night. Thank the Lord it’s only knee deep.”
“Knee deep for most people, waist deep for me.” Juliet chuckled. The young maid reminded her of Nora, of one of the few things she missed about living in the baron’s home. “That’s how the water seeped into my stays.”
“We will soon have you warm, ma’am, and tucked snug in your bed.”
Sleep would elude her tonight.
How could she settle after what they had learnt from Mr Biggs? Where did one begin to look for letters that were fifty years old? And judging by the callous look in Devlin’s eyes as he escorted Mr Biggs to the gate, the scoundrel might not survive to tell more tales.
“How long have you worked here at Blackwater?” Juliet asked the maid, though from the girl’s youthful complexion it could only be a matter of years.
“Three years, ma’am.” Tilly tugged Juliet’s dress down to her ankles and helped her step out of the garment. “The previous master hired me just before he … before he died.”
Juliet sighed. Death seemed especially cruel when it took those in the summer of their lives. “It must have been difficult here, what with my husband living abroad.”
Upon hearing the trudge of footsteps on the stairs, Tilly drew Juliet into the dressing room. It would take the footmen two more journeys to complete the task.
“What with the mistress passing a month earlier,” Tilly said, “it left the house in turmoil.”
“The mistress?” From their conversations, Juliet presumed Devlin’s mother died before he left for the Far East. She was certain that’s what he had said. “Are you referring to Mr Drake’s mother?”
Tilly shook her head as she untied the laces on Juliet’s front-fastening