Chapter 9
Henry did not generally consider himself the sort of gentleman to pick the lock of another man’s room and read through his correspondence.
Thankfully, the Gregorys left their room unlocked, so he had not needed to break in. He could do nothing about the correspondence, though.
A feminine dressing gown lay across the back of the chair to the writing desk, reminding Henry how greatly he was overstepping.
It made the thrumming of his head even more pronounced than the night before.
In his few years as a spy, he’d never trespassed on a woman’s room, but he was not here for the woman.
There was nothing of note on the desk. Several half-finished papers in the slots at the back had been written in Mrs. Gregory’s hand. One had been sealed, but Henry broke it, read it, then held a candle just close enough to warm the wax wafer a second time.
He moved to the wardrobe, checking his pocket watch and rubbing at the side of his head.
Blast, but his head ached. Pressing his eyes closed, he pulled back the doors of the armoire.
The entire party was enjoying a trip to a nearby beach, and Henry had claimed disinterest. Though they’d only left a quarter of an hour before, he could not count on having a great deal of time here.
A servant might come, the Gregorys could return early, or anything else might interrupt him.
Best to be quick. He knelt at the base of the armoire, opening traveling cases and seeing empty interiors, feeling around and finding nothing left inside.
He rifled through the coats, checking the pockets. On the third, he found a wadded up paper. Henry pulled it out, gently prying it into a flat position without tearing the foolscap. His eyes scanned the quick note.
Midnight on the twelfth. Le Petite Anse.
Henry swallowed. That was certainly suspicious. Who was Gregory meeting? Or was this a letter he’d intended to send and had not?
Regardless, Henry knew what he would be doing by moon’s light in six days’ time.
Henry’s head was worse the next morning. His soft pillow felt like a brick, and his throat ached something terrible. He got himself to the side of the bed, where he cradled his temple between both hands.
He was supposed to get headaches when he drank too much, not too little. He groaned, debating the merits of going back to sleep. But when he started to inch back to the brick, the headache seemed to intensify.
A veritable pounding on the door had him covering his ears. With more than a little effort, he pushed from the bed and crossed the room, his feet struggling to maintain a straight line before he pulled open the door and looked down at his sister.
“Gads, Julia, were you trying to break the door down?” Being upright was too much work, so he stumbled backward, falling into a chair at the foot of the bed.
“I only knocked.” She followed him in, closing the door behind her.
“Pounded, more like.”
She was quiet long enough that he looked up at her. She was peering down at him, hands on hips. “Did you drink too much last night?”
He dropped his head back into his hands. Ouch. “No,” he managed. “I haven’t had a drop since we got to the estate.”
“Ah.” That singular sound came out far too thoughtful.
“Ah, what?” he asked without looking up.
“Your body does not seem to like being without liquor.”
He backed up, leaning against a bedpost for support. “You’re telling me.”
“It’s a good thing though. Give it a few days and you’ll feel better than ever.”
He squinted one eye at her. Her head was cocked as she considered him, but then her nose scrunched up and she sneezed.
The noise was akin to a gunshot.
She sniffled, narrowing her eyes at him.
“I’ll let you hide away today, but tomorrow you’re joining me for whatever activities the party is up to, so get your rest now.
Just because you’ve relied too heavily on drink in the past does not mean I’m going to allow you to go back on your promise to spend time with me now.
” She backed to the door. “I’ll get you something for your head and make your excuses. ”
Henry didn’t particularly like the way she was bossing him around, but something to help his head sounded marvelous so he decided not to complain. Instead, he just gave a grunt of agreement, then slumped back in the chair.