Chapter 2 #2
“And you have no business ordering me around! Nor any business implying I should have stayed in my home, waiting up for my husband to return, for your own interest. You are a stranger, Your Grace. A stranger with a grievance against my husband.” She stepped forward, her own face tight with annoyance.
“How does that not put my daughter and me in danger? I do not trust you, therefore I do not need to tell you anything.”
“You do when it concerns your husband,” he snapped. His jaw clenched even tighter. “And I would never, ever hurt you or your child.”
Sibyl laughed incredulously, even though she didn’t find the situation funny at all. Not in the slightest. “And tell me how I am supposed to trust that when I do not know you? You imposed yourself in my home without regard for my reputation!”
“I just saved you from Heggerty’s wrath—which is known to be quite unbridled, for your information—so I think that ought to give you a clue. You were making a cake of yourself.”
“I do not need to be saved by you!” Sibyl shouted. “Not you or anybody else.”
“Another five minutes in that place—and I’m being generous—and you would have found out that you very much would have needed to be saved.”
“And why have you taken it upon yourself to play that role?” Sibyl huffed, staring him down.
The Duke merely stared back at her, his eyes narrowing as though he was not used to people defying him.
“As I said,” his voice was dangerously low, “Lord Kerrington’s debts belong to me now, and I must meet him.”
“Why?” Sibyl pressed. “Why? That is what I do not understand. Who is my husband to you?”
The Duke watched her for a few seconds before stepping back.
Air rushed into the spot he had occupied, cool and startling. Sibyl felt the warmth leech from her skin, leaving her unsteady. Shame prickled along her spine as she recognized the truth: she wanted that warmth back.
“I still believe you are lying to me, Lady Kerrington,” he said, ignoring her question. “So here is what I propose: two heads are better than one, and you need a chaperone if you insist on continuing your pointless search—”
“Pointless,” Sibyl hissed.
“Pointless, for I believe it is all a ploy. A pretense to avoid telling me his whereabouts.”
“It is not!”
But her protests fell on deaf ears, for the Duke was already moving.
“We will search together,” he decided, his tone once again brooking no argument. “Do not try to protest.”
The words died on the tip of her tongue anyway.
Staring him down in defiance, Sibyl breathed heavily for a few seconds. Then, she nodded.
“Fine,” she relented. “But do not think you can continue bossing me around.”
“Do not defy me, and I will not have to.” He cast her a side glance, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Where else do you think your husband usually goes?”
Before Sibyl could answer, light footsteps approached. She turned to find a weary-faced waitress, nerves clear on her face as she looked between her and the Duke.
“Begging your pardon for the interruption, Sir,” the waitress began, dipping her head. “I only heard you enquire after Lord Kerrington. I cannot say where His Lordship is—I only serve here at the Spindle—but I may tell you one thing.”
At that, both Sibyl and the Duke moved closer, their interest piqued.
The waitress straightened, happy to have gotten their attention rather than their dismissal. “Lord Kerrington always requested that his bills be sent to a boarding house. The accountant may have the address.”
The Duke nodded. “Is the Spindle’s accountant present tonight?”
The waitress shook her head. “He only works from his office, so I cannot give you further information, but I hope it’s something. You seemed… rather distressed.”
Her eyes flicked to Sibyl, who wondered if perhaps her disguise was not as great as she had initially thought. She averted her gaze, as if it would help, but nodded her thanks.
“Mr. Heggerty’s accountant is called Mr. Farley. Thomas Farley, that is.”
The Duke nodded again, then produced another coin purse from his coat pocket. He handed it to the waitress. “Thank you for the information. And I hope you understand the importance of discretion.” He gave her a pointed look.
Curtseying, the waitress took the purse and tucked it into her apron. As she turned to leave, she hesitated before looking back at Sibyl. Her eyes lingered on Sibyl’s face, her brow pinched, making Sibyl wonder if she was not the only woman who was searching for an absent husband with secrets.
“Good luck to you, Madam.”
With that, the waitress vanished back inside the Spindle, leaving Sibyl waiting for the next instruction.
When the Duke only turned back to her instead of walking out of the alley, she stiffened.
“It is time to return to Kerrington House,” he declared.
She shook her head. “No,” she uttered. “I want to find Edmund tonight.”
“That would be pushing your luck. The night grows darker, and the waitress could be sending you into a trap.”
Sibyl paused, considering. The waitress had taken the money so quickly, but…
“There was such sincerity in her eyes, though,” she noted.
“And many people are good at feigning sincerity.”
The Duke’s pointed comment reminded her that neither of them trusted one another.
Gathering herself, Sibyl lifted her chin. “Then I can go without you. I believe her, and I am not stopping until I find Edmund.”
She turned to leave the alley when the Duke’s hand shot out, bracing against the stone wall and forming a barrier. She shot him a glare.
But he was already shaking his head in a slow, clear no. “You are the most stubborn woman I have ever met,” he growled.
“At least you know I wouldn’t go to all this trouble just to cover for Edmund,” she countered, annoyed at his insistence on delaying her search.
“Lady Kerrington.” His voice was thin, impatient. “I cannot let you run headfirst into unknown territory, and alone at that, simply because you are too stubborn to wait another night. You claim you have waited four nights—”
“It is not a claim. It’s the truth.”
“—then you can wait another night,” he finished, ignoring her protests.
When she said nothing, he raised an expectant eyebrow, as if to ask, Well? I am right, no?
Yet, Sibyl’s protests didn’t stop. She couldn’t let them, not when her safety was on the line. Not when Edmund seemed to have a mound of secrets that could end up putting her life and that of her baby in jeopardy.
“It is for my daughter’s sake, Your Grace, that I must be this stubborn in my search.
You think I keep lying, but I would not willingly leave my daughter to investigate my husband’s absence.
I would not go to a gaming hell alone, were it not worth the risk.
It is, and I will not stop arguing with you about it.
I will continue my search. If not for my own sake, then for my daughter’s. ”
The Duke’s face softened unexpectedly, his arrogant confidence turning into considerate pensiveness. He paused, looking towards the mouth of the alley and into the night shadows.
It felt like an eternity when he finally nodded. “Very well. We will take my carriage.” He jerked his head in the direction of a black carriage emblazoned with a silver stone arch.
At once, Sibyl marched towards it without a backward glance.
Turned out Thomas Farley’s office was not far from the Spindle.
Gabriel Redford, the Duke of Stonehelm, peered out at the building, both annoyed by this endless hunt and irked by the presence of the lady sitting next to him.
Why could she not have just gone back home? What lady wished to put herself into the jaws of danger and see if she would walk back out?
Gabriel’s eyes slid to Lady Kerrington.
This one, apparently.
Already, her husband was proving to be far more trouble than he was worth, and she was just the topping on the cake Gabriel hadn’t asked to eat.
Turning his attention back to the accountant’s office, he noticed the light in one of the more central windows. Clearly, somebody was inside, and that made Gabriel want to exhale in relief.
Finally, something came out of this chase for Lord Kerrington.
“I will g—”
Before he could finish, Lady Kerrington, whom he was coming to realize was a very stubborn young woman, opened the carriage door and hopped down.
With a happy hum to herself, she glared back at him, and he groaned once she swayed out of earshot. Although he was secretly enjoying the way she flaunted convention. He enjoyed seeing her grasping at the edges of propriety to pull it around herself, only to give up.
Indeed, she snuck out, dared to enter the Spindle and cause a ruckus, and now she was marching headfirst into the office of an accountant she didn’t know.
Gabriel wondered, not for the first time, if he had been too harsh in accusing her of covering for her husband.
He followed after her, matching her pace, then strode slightly ahead when they approached the front door. Brown eyes, the color of toffee that made him peculiarly hungry in a way he had not felt in a while, narrowed on him.
“What?” he questioned.
“Nothing,” she snapped.
Together, they entered the building and ascended the stairs to the room where the light had been visible from outside.
Gabriel made to enter first, but not without a cursory glance at Lady Kerrington. She looked fresh-faced and young, nothing at all like a lady who would look twice at a man like Lord Kerrington.
Then again, not all ladies have the luxury of choice.
Her disguise was poor, but it had held together in the Spindle. However, an accountant was well-connected, and if Farley was present, then Gabriel and Lady Kerrington had to be very careful how they presented themselves.
Shaking off his thoughts, Gabriel entered the room.
At a small desk by the window, a young, dark-haired apprentice was bent over paperwork, his quill scratching away on parchment. A candle burned next to the paper, and his raspy voice told enough of his exhaustion when he greeted them.