Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
“I am already acquainted with your new staff,” Miss Morgan stated, with an eager light in her green eyes.
The housekeeper’s office was cramped, but welcoming. Sunlight shone through the small window behind the pale desk and brightened the springtime yellow of the walls. The brightness of the room seemed to lighten the red-blonde of Miss Morgan’s hair, partially hidden beneath a lace mobcap.
“Of course,” Jasper replied. “You and Maria shall have access to any room in the house that you require. You’ve been to most spaces in the home, I’m sure, but I daresay there are some you’ve missed. Come,” he urged, leading the woman to the door, “I’ll show you about.”
Miss Morgan inclined her head and absently toyed with the skirts of her maid’s uniform. “Thank you, Your Grace.” The woman smiled, her cheeks puffing with the movement. “Harris and his men intend to patrol the grounds and observe for potential threats at a distance once the evening meal has concluded. Only a few men will remain indoors, ensuring all access points are secure while Maria and I carry out our duties.”
Jasper’s gut tightened as a bout of nerves caught him by surprise. Maria . Despite her terse answers to his inquiries earlier, he’d left her side feeling rather more curious than before. He wanted to know everything about her.
“Here we are. This is my study—” He stilled, his heart thundering and his eyes growing wide as he halted in the doorway.
A dagger stood erect on his desk, its blade dug deep through a folded piece of parchment and into the wood beneath. Jasper’s heart stumbled in his chest. Francis .
Jasper sped to one of the large garden-facing windows beyond his desk and examined the latch and sash for tampering. Locked and secure .
“Blimey,” Miss Morgan breathed. “Is that a new letter?”
Jasper’s lips thinned as he inspected the other window. “I’m afraid so. Damn . This one is secure as well.”
He returned to Miss Morgan’s side before his desk and withdrew his handkerchief. “I was here this very morning, writing correspondence. Naught else appears to be out of place. How did the blackguard get past these alleged superior staff that are meant to prevent this very thing from happening?”
“I imagine we ought to ask them,” she returned. “Your windows are easily accessible from the gardens but, as you say, the windows are secure. Mayhap Francis was given a key to your door and took advantage of a change in shift.”
“ Hell ,” Jasper said gutturally.
With a quick step forward, he wrapped his handkerchief around the knife’s handle and wrenched it from his desk’s surface. Alarm twisted distressingly in his gut.
“Damned inconvenient,” Miss Morgan muttered. “You’ll have to re-finish that, now.”
He set the blade aside and carefully unfolded the parchment, protecting his hands with the kerchief.
Fellow, I k N ow thee.
…
[For] a knave; a rascal; an eater of broken meats; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a lily-liver’d, action-taking, whoreson, glass-gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd in way of good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch… Draw, you rogue: for, though it be night, yet the moon shines; I’ll make a sop o’the moonshine of you: draw, you whoreson cullionly barbermonger, draw.
Sodding hell. He would need to write again to the magistrate.
Miss Morgan leaned forward to sniff at the parchment. “Mmm,” she hummed. “Yes, that is laurel water, for certain. Ought we to keep this as evidence?”
Jasper shook his head. “I shall pen a duplicate. I cannot risk anyone touching it by accident.”
“Understood. I’ll fetch Harris.”
She darted from the room, and Jasper quickly copied then tossed the parchment into the fire.
* * *
“Miss?” A soft voice pulled Maria slowly from sleep. “Miss Roberts?”
Maria blinked the bleariness from her eyes, her sleep dissipating as awareness took its place. Bubbles of eagerness rippled through her abdomen, and a grin stole over her lips. Her assignment! Heather will soon require relief from her shift at Jasper’s.
“Thank you, Louisa,” she said to her maid. The woman was worth every ha’penny that Maria paid her to keep her secrets. “Would you be so good as to bring me a tea service, please?”
“Of course, miss.” She curtseyed, and silently left the room.
Late afternoon sun shone in through her windows, lending a yellow hue to the deep purples and blues that filled her bedchamber.
Tossing the bedclothes aside, she rose and made her way to the wardrobe. She withdrew her costume from her travelling satchel and set it aside, then retrieved her ruby cloak.
By the time Louisa had returned with a tray of tea and a covered dish of food, Maria had dressed, stashed her sheathed dagger in the pocket of her skirts, and was pinning her hair in a severe knot at her crown. The maid closed the door swiftly.
“Your mother wishes to have a word, miss.”
Maria spun around just as Louisa placed the tray on a table and gathered the cloak.
“If you please, miss.” She held the material out toward Maria. “We must cover you up before your mother arrives.”
Hurrying forward, Maria let the maid help her into her overlong cloak, then turned to face her mirror, ensuring that the entirety of her maid costume was covered. It was ludicrous, really, but she could not have her family see her wearing it—for they would certainly ask questions she couldn’t answer—and she couldn’t arrive at Jasper’s without her costume, for gossip would undoubtedly spread that Miss Maria Roberts had spent hours ensconced in the duke’s home.
It had occurred to her that she might change attire in the carriage, but that would require greater preparation and more pennies to exchange hands. Indeed, the simplest option was for her to simply slip from her home with a cloak.
“You have my thanks again, Louisa.”
She smirked at her reflection, her blue-specked grey eyes framed by dark lashes glittering back at her, and the fluttering in her stomach intensified. Not only was this her first foray into this sort of investigation, but it was also an opportunity to spend time in Jasper’s space. With Jasper . Despite the grim circumstances, she could scarcely contain her excitement.
“ Maria !”
The bedchamber door burst open and her mother swept in. Maria’s stomach sank slightly in response.
“The maids said that you were sleeping,” she drawled.
“I was.” Maria retrieved her smallest reticule and strode toward her mother. “The duke is taking me to the opera this evening.”
Her mother’s eyes flashed with greed. “I understand that you were with him this morning, as well.”
Maria inclined her head in confirmation. “We took a turn about Regent’s Park, then found shelter at the confectionary during the fog.”
“Mmm.” Her mother’s gaze snapped downward to take in her red cloak. “And what have you chosen to wear this evening? You are attending the opera with a duke, for pity’s sake, you must dress the part.” She stepped forward and reached for the seam of the cloak, and Maria’s pulse tripped over.
“Beggin’ your pardon, Miss Roberts,” Louisa said urgently from the doorway. “But His Grace requested that you arrive directly.”
Her mother whirled around to face the maid. “Did he not come himself to retrieve her?”
Louisa cast a harried glance at Maria.
“No,” Maria said, stepping around her mother. “I must first fetch Heather, as she is our chaperone, and I’m afraid that I slept late.”
“Very well,” her mother capitulated. “Your father and I are to retire early, but I expect a full account of the evening on the morrow. Not that I expect particularly good news; Lord knows why the man chose you .”
“Of course.”
Maria gave a nod to her mother and sent a grateful glance to Louisa before she swept from the room.
Without pausing, she manoeuvred through the house and out the front door. Her familial carriage awaited. She withdrew some coins from her reticule and reached up to place them in the driver’s awaiting hand. “Drive to the opera house. Ensure the carriage is seen, and await the opera’s end. Have a drive about, then return home, if you will. I shall have another three shillings for you on the morrow.”
“O’ course, Miss Roberts.” The reliable man doffed his hat with a grin. “Pleasure doin’ business, as always.”
The carriage trundled away, and Maria hurried along the street until she could discreetly hail a hack. Gooseflesh spread over her skin as a cool breeze wafted past her, and she pulled her cloak closer around her collar. Horses snuffed as an equipage drew up beside her, and she gave the driver the direction. Within, the air was chilled and smelled vaguely of stewed cabbage.
The wheels jolted into motion, and Maria settled back against the threadbare squabs. Anticipation fizzed in her stomach.
Francis was a very real and constant threat, and while she did not fool herself into believing that she would overtake him tonight, she hoped that she would glean some information. Learning how the man was finding his way into Jasper’s home was essential. If someone among the duke’s staff was being paid by Francis to permit him entrance or to provide aid, shelter, or food, they ought to face the repercussions of their actions.
Jasper really must have a care as well, for if his staff were indeed loyal and were not aiding Francis… Her throat grew dry, and she swallowed convulsively. If Francis had the ability to enter Jasper’s home without anyone’s knowledge and without aid, Jasper was in a great deal more danger than they’d initially believed.
Jasper . Her affianced , for pity’s sake! It was possible that they would not see the engagement through to an actual marriage, but even the thought of his impromptu proposal sent tingles of joy down her spine.
Her tryst with Jasper had only added to her roiling emotions. She wanted more of his kisses, more of his touches, and blimey , but having him pulse in her hand had been?—
Her body was betraying her at every turn. She shouldn’t feel those things with regard to Jasper. While pleasure was lovely, she must remember that men were untrustworthy, adulterous cads, and she could not lose her heart or her head to one.
The hack rolled to a jarring stop at one corner of Grosvenor Square, putting a halt to Maria’s dangerous ruminations. With a nod to herself, she exited the hack, paid the driver, and strode down the lamp-lit street. Her footsteps were sure and swift, and while she was in a lofty part of London, she still gripped her dagger tightly in the pocket of her skirts; Francis could strike at any time, and she would be prepared.
She turned down a close, hurrying between the buildings, the cool air and coal smoke whirling around her. Reaching the mews, Maria peered over the gardens’ walls until she recognized Jasper’s.
The back gardens were still and silent as she neared the kitchens’ entrance. They’d chosen this point of entry rather than the front servants’ entrance, for they preferred not to alert Francis to her arrival, should he be watching. Maria did not see that it would make much difference, but chose not to argue the point with Jasper.
Thunk-thunk . The sound of her gloved knocks broke the eerie silence of the gardens, and a shiver trailed down her spine. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, and she spun to peer over her shoulder. A gentle wind blew the newly blooming trees, the unnerving shadows cast by the candles inside making the gardens seem sinister.
The door swung inward, and Maria jumped, despite herself.
“Maria,” Jasper breathed, a breathtaking, crooked grin on his lips.
She gave him a relieved—if slightly embarrassed—smile. “Good evening, Duke.”
“Do come in.” He stepped aside, gesturing into the kitchens beyond.
Grateful to be out of the chilled air, she swept past him into the warmth. And her stomach swooped. She felt the barest brush of his hand against the small of her back, and her knees nearly buckled. Dangerous , she reminded herself.
“Why are you answering the door, and not a member of your new staff?” she inquired, removing her cloak to hang it on a nearby hook and attempting to garner control over her abruptly fluttering pulse.
“I daresay they’re occupied elsewhere,” Jasper returned. “Come, we’ll inform them that you’ve begun your shift.”
Maria nodded, withdrawing a mobcap from her apron pocket and placing it upon her head.
“Do you need that?” Jasper asked, gesturing to her attire with a mirthful gleam. “The costume?”
“Oh, indeed,” Maria assured him. “It is best to keep up appearances, and a maid in your home—whether day or night—is to be expected. A gentleman’s daughter? I should say not.”
They rounded the corner into the housekeeper’s office, and stopped short.
“Have you caught any of them in the act?” Harris asked, his brow furrowed.
Mrs. Ross, Jasper’s new cook, shook her head. “I didnae catch them, nae.”
“Might we be of assistance?” Jasper inquired, stepping further into the room.
Both people spun to face him and bowed.
“It’s nothing but a minor dispute, Your Grace,” Harris assured him.
“Aye, ’tis a wee matter, Your Grace,” the cook confirmed. “The other staff are pilfering food from the larder, and I daresay ye’ve pests in the gardens, tearin’ leaves an’ pullin’ vegetables from their roots. I only thought t’ let ’Arris know.”
“Are you certain that it is the staff taking from the larder?” Maria queried. All gazes swung toward her.
“I ’ave my suspicions,” Mrs. Ross returned. “But when on mission, all food and rations must be accounted fer.”
“And we’ve ensured all ingredients are free from contamination?” Maria asked. “If Mr. Sinclair had access to the home, we must be vigilant.”
Mrs. Ross nodded. “Aye. I inspected wha’ was ’ere myself, and brought th’ rest fresh from market.”
“I will speak with the men, Mrs. Ross,” Harris placated, and the woman left with a word of thanks.
“Is Heather here to give her report?” Maria inquired.
Harris shook his head. “She left just before you arrived, to report our dreadful oversight earlier to Grace.”
“Oversight?” Maria asked, alarm lurching in her chest.
Jasper sighed. “I found another note from Francis in my study.”
Her pulse sped. “ While the new staff were in place?”
Harris’ lips thinned. “At this time, we’re unsure. Because His Grace was absent from the home, we cannot know for certain when it took place. I suspect, however, that it occurred during a shift change. It was an error on our part, and we’ve already implemented an alternating duty schedule to avoid such occurrences in the future.”
Maria nodded. “Very well. Thank you.” She turned to Jasper. “Was it another quote from King Lear ? And the letters, was another?—”
“Yes,” Jasper interjected. “I’ve made a transcription; it’s in my study.”
Maria’s heart leapt. “Might I see it?”
“Of course.”
With well wishes for a pleasant night, Jasper led Maria calmly down the corridor, while the urge to run itched at Maria’s legs.
“Jasper,” she began. “The food thefts?—”
“I’ve drawn the same conclusion,” he interrupted.
She huffed. “Do you know of a place in which Francis could hide in your home? The attic, perhaps? The cellar?”
Jasper shook his head. “I haven’t the faintest. We’d best look.”
“Indeed. The letter first, if you please.”
They traversed the corridor in silence, but nerves skittered just beneath her skin the entire time. Jasper was so close she could feel the heat of him through her uniform. It was a steady energy, as though the space between them hummed. Lord, but the man was too distracting by half.
What if Jasper did not jilt her? What if this home became hers?
Another swoop of nerves dipped her stomach and spread gooseflesh over her skin. It was dangerous to dream, and yet…she couldn’t help herself. With every room they passed, thoughts of spending her time there with Jasper or managing a household tumbled through her mind. And she wanted it— craved it.
So dangerous, Maria . Have a care with your heart .
Soon, they turned into Jasper’s spacious study. The room was warm and smelled like the man himself: bergamot and lemon. She inhaled deeply, relishing the erotic scent as she glanced around. It was much like any other man’s study, full of large, dark furniture, walls of books, heavily stuffed armchairs by the hearth, and tall, dramatic windows. But this was Jasper’s.
“This is it,” Jasper said, extending a slip of parchment toward her. “Mind the writing; I was in a state.”
Her heart fluttered at the small confession, absurdly pleased that he felt comfortable enough with her to admit a moment of weakness.
She accepted the note and scanned the words. “ N ,” she mused. “The letters are R , F , O , and now N . I believe this might be a sort of nomen deminutivum . If, for example, we assume each letter is the first in a different word, a new message might appear.” She cleared her throat. “We will discover the truth in time. For now, shall we begin our search?”
She folded the parchment and slid it in her apron pocket for further pursual later on, and followed Jasper from the room.
Despite the urgency of her assignment, the danger that was lurking within every shadow, Maria’s body was all but entirely consumed with Jasper. Her skin prickled at his nearness, her insides flipped, and her heart whispered desires for not only his kisses and touches, but also a future with the man.
He was challenging and utterly infuriating, but…he was also caring. Since he’d happened across her at The Morning Herald offices that morning, he’d been markedly undaunted by her unsettling revelations. Indeed, he hadn’t even berated her for being Duncan—but had, in fact, reacted rather favourably in the end.
By the time they ascended the first staircase, Maria was veritably buzzing with unspent energy.
Jasper halted on the landing. “Allow me to fetch my pistol.”
Without another word, he disappeared into his bedchamber down the corridor, and Maria heaved a deep breath. It was the one room in the home in which she had never been. She, Heather, and Juliana had explored every other corner of the building countless times and in countless ways through their childhood, while Jasper was off at Eton and Cambridge. She knew this home as well as her own, and yet… Since Jasper had become duke, it felt different.
Jasper re-emerged, a pistol clasped in one hand. They exchanged glances and, as though his heavy-lidded gaze was a caress, a current of desire washed over her.
Blimey .
As if by unspoken accord, they resumed their journey through the dim corridor.
“I meant to inquire,” Jasper murmured, nudging her elbow with his. “How came you to be so proficient with a blade?”
Grateful for the dim light obscuring the flush that no doubt stained her neck, Maria hummed. “All runners in our offices must complete training before they accept their first client. We learn both societal rules and expectations of household staff, as well as fundamental skills in spy craft, basic fighting tactics, and weapons usage. My trainer, Mr. Greene, was superb, and I daresay we shall lament the loss of his instruction.”
A humph of surprise escaped him as they passed a parlour and music room and ascended the staircase to the next floor. “So many skills in so little time.”
Maria shrugged one shoulder. “Yes. We learn merely the essentials at first, as we are meant to continue training and sparring to gain skill as time passes. Grace—that is, Miss Huntsbury—will oversee instruction until a permanent replacement is found.”
“If Miss Huntsbury is experienced and knowledgeable in such things, why not continue teaching the women herself?”
The candle in a nearby sconce flickered as Jasper and Maria passed, rounding a corner beyond guest bedchambers and toward the last flight of stairs.
“Miss Huntsbury has many duties: supervising the women and our cases, managing finances, arranging resources, and supplying our required paraphernalia. Adding to her daily activities is ill-advised.”
“Quite so. An admirably diligent and talented woman.” Jasper was silent a moment before he whispered, “Much like yourself, I imagine.”
Had Jasper just complimented her? Astonishment faltered Maria’s footsteps and sped her pulse. The word woman —despite its accurate signifier of her sex—felt wrong, rather like an itchy coat that was too small, but the intent behind his words was flattering, indeed.
The attic’s door loomed before them, and Maria forcibly redirected her thoughts. Francis. I’m here for Francis .
The fluttering of nerves that erupted in her stomach matched the racing of her pulse. She clutched her unsheathed dagger and stood poised to attack as Jasper reached for the door’s latch.
Snick. The latch caught, and with a whirl of stale air and a swift creak , he pulled the door wide.