Chapter Eleven
Though they had eliminated two suspects, the next morning did not offer much time to celebrate. Not even with her muscles feeling soft and deliciously sore from the previous night’s exploits and a plate piled with crumpets, crannies filled with melted butter and honey. The tea was hot and sweet, the excitement for the dawning festival palpable—and the daily newspaper from London unwelcome. She did not manage to read it until she was in the duke’s study, summoned from a table swelling with whispers.
The house was full near to bursting now which put her on edge. Conall had not come to breakfast again. Lord Darrington had fled the house, and the village, as expected. She admitted to a small thrill of justified vindication at the news. It served him right for trying to steal precious artifacts from the duke. But at least he wasn’t actively trying to get anyone hanged. That was in his favor.
The duke was drinking strong coffee with cream, the tray placed haphazardly among piles of paper. Mrs. Hastings bustled past Persephone. “See that he eats something, dear.”
“I’ll do my best.”
The duke, being a duke, did not take orders. He was, however, somewhat more susceptible to his goddaughters. He was also the tiniest bit contrary. Persephone reached for the toasted bread next to his cup even though it was monstrously rude to steal from a duke. And she’d already had her breakfast. “Hey now, that’s mine,” he tuttered and took a large bite of the next piece.
She hid a smile. “Good morning, Your Grace.”
“We’re well in hand, are we?” he asked, reaching for the elderberry jelly. Mrs. Hastings was clever; she’d brought him all of his favorites.
“Well enough. The exhibits are secured.” She debated telling him about Lord Darrington. He’d be cross if she kept it from him, as she would have been. She explained his absence briefly. His scowl was so fierce she wondered he wasn’t giving himself a headache. “That blackguard!” he roared. “And to think I admired his mummy case.” He thumped his hand down on the oak table, rattling his cup. “I’ll have him barred from every good antiquarian society.”
“I believe Con—that is, Lord Northwyck, may have put the fear of God into him.”
“Good lad,” the duke approved.
“How go the preparations for the opening ball?” she inquired. He still looked put out, but he did eat a handful of raspberries with his bread, so it evened out.
“Mrs. Hastings informs me the circus troupe has arrived and their caravans are digging up the back lawn. She is quite cross over it”
“And you still won’t tell me why you have hired acrobats?”
“It’s a surprise, my dear. You’ve worked yourself to the bone on my festival, you ought to have a lovely surprise like everyone else.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“Now where’s your young man?”
She stifled a wince. How she hated lying to him. “I have not seen him this morning.”
“Lying in bed like a lazy good-for-nothing. I’m glad he’ll have you to set him straight. I don’t mind saying his rakehell days were beginning to be a concern to me. Very unlike him.”
She couldn’t disagree. She couldn’t explain either.
“But that’s not why I summoned you here,” he slapped at her hand when she reached for the berries. “Nor to nibble on my breakfast like a rabbit in the carrot patch.”
“If you won’t eat it, I shall. Pity for it to go to waste.”
“I’ll eat it.” He pointed a toast corner in her direction. “And don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”
She sank into a chair and grinned. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Hmph.” He brushed crumbs off his hands. “Have you read the newspaper today?”
Her grin faltered. “I haven’t.”
He pushed it toward her, opened to the relevant headline: Earl’s son vanished and wanted for questioning!
She skimmed it, a chill creeping under her skin. Henry Talbot, heir to the Culpepper earldom mentioned by name. It wasn’t merely gossip any more. The traitor had launched his attack on Henry. Printed in black and white.
Hot rage licked up her chest.
“Balderdash, of course,” the duke said, and she could have kissed his weathered cheek. “I’ve known that boy since he was in swaddling clothes. You wouldn’t happen to know what this is about, would you? He never did get into scrapes without you.”