Andrew noticed a flash of some unpleasant emotion in Anna’s amber eyes before she fixed a smile on her face.
“No doubt he will join us soon. He’s probably holed up with Father putting the world to rights.”
Her words rang false to Andrew, not the least because Mr. Spencer had slipped into the room some minutes ago looking like he wanted to be left alone.
He glanced once more at Miss Spencer and was surprised to catch her rolling her eyes at the mention of Mr. Grant.
Well, well, well. She had a bit of life in her after all.
She looked up then, and her dark brown eyes widened when she realised he’d seen. He smiled, what he hoped was a friendly, encouraging smile, but he suspected, since he was thinking of little besides dragging her out of there and ruining her, probably looked more like a wolfish grin.
Since her eyes widened even more, and her breath hitched again in that thoroughly distracting way, he guessed the latter was true.
“Evie…” Jonathan’s voice brought Miss Spencer’s eyes from his to her cousin’s, and Andrew felt like a complete fool when he missed her warm gaze and wanted it back on him. “…I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything other than white. You look very well.”
Miss Spencer smiled at Jonathan, and Andrew felt a surge of jealousy, which was ridiculous. But then, a lot of his behaviour since he’d arrived here earlier today had been ridiculous. Not the least his preoccupation with the woman before him who still hadn’t spoken a word.
“Thank you, Jon. Your sister managed to convince me that I wouldn’t cause a scandal by wearing it.”
Andrew felt riveted to the spot.
So, she spoke.
And her voice was as mesmerising as the rest of her.
“So, you speak,” he said, repeating his thought of seconds ago, desperate to draw her attention back to him.
It worked. She looked at him with those doe eyes, and his heart thumped heavily in response.
Shut up, he told it, then frowned because he’d never scolded his vital organs before.
“I do.” She was smiling shyly at him, and his mouth suddenly felt drier than the Sahara. “I apologise for my earlier behaviour, my lord. I can be a little shy around strangers.”
He swallowed hard and had to work, for the first time in a long time, to keep his face an emotionless mask.
“Then I hope that we will friends very soon, Miss Spencer, so that you will not be ill at ease for long.”
She smiled again, this time wider and more relaxed, and Andrew was staggered by it.
Good Lord, his reaction to her was incredible. All she had done was smile at him, and, once again, he was completely entranced.
CHAPTER THREE
Evelyn winced as the stair creaked loudly beneath her slippered feet.
It wouldn’t do to be caught sneaking around the household in the middle of the night.
For one thing, she couldn’t risk anyone knowing what she was up to. For another, she was in a night rail and the thinnest of wraps.
She stayed stock still as she waited to see if the creak had alerted anyone to her presence on the staircase, but mercifully, the occupants of the house slumbered on.
Evelyn released the breath she’d been holding and continued her tiptoeing toward her uncle’s study.
Her heart was hammering so loudly she was surprised it wasn’t echoing around the cavernous hall.
She should thank Lord Ashdon, she supposed. The fact that she’d been kept awake until the wee hours by thoughts of the man meant she was alert and presented with this opportunity.
The first time she’d seen evidence of her uncle’s betrayal had been in his study. It had been quite by accident of course, but she was glad now she knew the truth. The truth, however, was useless unless she had the evidence to back up her claims.
Evelyn hadn’t had the opportunity or excuse to enter her uncle’s study, and even if she had, she couldn’t have waltzed in in the middle of the day. No, she needed to do this at night, alone, so that nobody caught her.
The lone candle she held flickered in the draft sweeping through the corridor, and Evelyn prayed it wouldn’t go out. She knew the house like the back of her hand but still, it was old and dark. And though she didn’t believe in ghosts, she still wouldn’t chose to wander around in pitch black.
Mercifully, Evelyn reached the study without incident, paranormal or otherwise, and she slipped through as quietly as she could.
Once inside, she wasted no time hurrying to the desk. Placing her candle atop the mahogany monstrosity her uncle used, she noticed that her hands were shaking.
Calm down, Evelyn she told herself. Nobody but you is crazy enough to be up at this time.
The clock on the mantle showed it was almost four o’clock. Usually Evelyn slept like a baby. She’d even slept since her discovery of Uncle Geoffrey’s treachery, though she had had more nightmares than pleasant dreams.
But tonight she had not even been able to doze.
She’d felt fidgety and filled with a nervous energy. And she knew just where the blame lay.
Every time she closed her eyes Lord Ashdon’s far too handsome face would appear.
Every time she tried to empty her mind, snippets of their dinner conversation would pop up to be replayed over and over.
They hadn’t been sitting together, of course. Aunt Millicent wouldn’t dream of putting an orphaned cousin beside a viscount. Perish the thought.
But, it had been a small party gathered round the table, and, since Mr. Grant never deigned to speak to her, Evelyn had been free to listen to Lord Ashdon’s every word, to allow the deep timbre of his voice to wash over her. It was quite ridiculous, of course, to be so affected by the man’s voice. But then, the man had been affecting her since he walked into the parlour that afternoon.
Oh, the way he’d looked at her, those green eyes smouldering, that mouth curving to grin in such a wicked way. Of course she couldn’t sleep. She’d probably never sleep again.
The clock chimed four, and the noise swiftly brought Evelyn’s mind back to the task at hand. What was she doing wasting time wool-gathering about the devilish Lord Ashdon? There were more important things to do here tonight.
Getting her mind back on the task in hand, Evelyn moved straight to the drawers of the desk.
Unsurprisingly, they were locked. But Evelyn had foreseen this, so she pulled the pin from her hair and began to fiddle with the lock. After a couple of frustrating moments, she heard a distinctive click and, with a mixture of dread and excitement, she opened the drawer and began to rifle through the papers.
The first drawer yielded no results, so she moved onto the next, ensuring that she checked every single scrap of paper.
There were six drawers in total and Evelyn moved methodically through them all.
She began to fear that her uncle had removed all traces of his crime when, finally, she came across the stack of letters she’d found that first day weeks ago.
Evelyn’s heart pounded quicker and louder. This was it. These letters would be the proof she needed to expose her uncle. To show Jonathan and Anna and everyone just what he’d done: had her father, his own brother, murdered.
Her throat suddenly felt thick with tears, but she refused to give way to her emotions. She had cried her tears. She wouldn’t cry anymore. At least, not until she had dealt with this betrayal.
With shaking hands, Evelyn reached in and plucked out the letters, now yellowed with age. A quick scan showed that they were indeed the correspondence she had spied: letters between her uncle and the crooked solicitor he’d used to execute her father’s estate, to manage or mismanage her own money and, worst of all, to hire the ruffian who had caused her father’s accident and subsequent death. The solicitor, who had apparently fallen on hard times and was now threatening to expose her uncle, was claiming that he had kept the documentation of their crimes rather than destroy them as he had meant to.
It was all there.
Her original thought on discovery had been to go to London and speak to this solicitor herself, demand that he come clean and hand over his evidence. But she quickly realised how foolish that would be. For one thing, she had no money to pay for the information. For another, this was clearly an unscrupulous and dangerous individual. Evelyn liked the idea of looking after her own interests, but she wasn’t foolish enough to go barging in and getting herself in trouble somehow.
Evelyn bit back a sob as her emotions threatened to overwhelm her.
She sat heavily in her uncle’s chair, gripping the letters hard, her knuckles white, her hands trembling.
But time was of the essence, and the longer she was up and about, the bigger the chance that she would be caught.
So, taking control of herself she stood and prepared to slip out of the study. She would hide the letters until she figured out what to do next.
Suddenly, without warning, the distinct sound of footsteps sounded outside the study door, and Evelyn’s heart leapt into her throat.
Someone was coming in here.
A fear such as she’d never known gripped Evelyn, and for a few terrible seconds she completely froze. The rattling of the door however spurred her into action. There was no way she could take those letters now. She needed to concentrate on getting out of here.
Without a second to spare, Evelyn threw the letters back into the drawer and dived under the desk just as the door swung open.
Evelyn held her breath as she crouched under the desk, desperately hoping that it was merely a footman or maid wandering around.
“Come now, Maisy. Don’t play coy now.”
Evelyn felt her jaw drop. That was her uncle’s voice.
“Sir, please. Not tonight.”
Maisy, Evelyn knew, was one of the longer-serving maids at Spencer Park, and, by the sounds of it, there was something going on between her and Uncle Geoffrey that Evelyn would much rather not be privy to.
“Maisy, m’dear, we both know that you—“
Evelyn tensed at the abrupt halt to her uncle’s words.
Something had caught his attention.
She felt sick with worry and prayed with all her might that she wouldn’t cast up her accounts right then and there.
“That candle. Did you bring that in?”
“No, sir.”
Oh, God. Oh, God. He was going to discover her.
Evelyn watched in abject terror as Uncle Geoffrey’s feet moved toward the desk. All it would take would be for him to come round this side to look underneath the desk, and she would be caught.
She felt like a bird who’d suddenly been trapped by a bloodthirsty cat.
There was no escape. No way out without Uncle Geoffrey spying her.
“Strange.”
Evelyn knew that her time was up. She wondered, rather hysterically, if she should just make a mad dash for the door. But what good would it do?
Uncle Geoffrey’s feet stopped just before the desk. She was done for.
“Mr. Spencer?”
Evelyn could have wept with relief when she heard Lord Ashdon’s voice sounding from just inside the door.
“My lord. What are you doing prowling around the house at this time?”
Uncle Geoffrey sounded panicked, Evelyn thought, probably because he’d been caught with the maid in less than proper circumstances.
“I was thirsty, and I didn’t wish to disturb anybody.”
“Ah, yes. Well, I — I… ah — I heard a noise in the study and came to investigate.”
“And brought a maid?”
Lord Ashdon’s tone sounded polite yet disbelieving.
“Yes, well — ahem — Maisy heard it too.”
There was silence, but Evelyn sensed that Lord Ashdon must have given Uncle Geoffrey a look because after a moment or two of bumbling and muttering, Uncle Geoffrey went on the defensive.
“How odd that you should both hear it at the same time, whilst in totally different parts of the house.”
“Yes, very — very odd indeed. Well, I shan’t keep you from your bed, my lord. Or you, Maisy. Off to bed with you.”
Evelyn almost swooned with relief. They were all leaving? She would be safe?
She listened to Maisy’s footsteps hurrying out of the room and waited with bated breath for the others to follow. But before they did, her uncle spoke again.
“My lord, a word if you please.”
As quickly as her relief had come, Evelyn’s heart plummeted once more. Couldn’t they leave and then have a word?
“Yes, Mr. Spencer?”
“Were you in here tonight?”
There was a brief pause before Lord Ashdon answered.
“Of course not.”
“Apologies, it’s just — this candle here. I didn’t leave one lighting.”
“Perhaps it was an absent-minded footman.”
“Perhaps. But—“
“Or,” Lord Ashdon continued, “perhaps Maisy, was it? Perhaps Maisy left it here when she was investigating this mysterious noise of yours.”
The mention of Maisy seemed to spur Uncle Geoffrey on to leaving as quickly as possible. Evelyn felt so grateful she could have jumped up and kissed Lord Ashdon. It wouldn’t exactly be a hardship either.
All that was left now was for Lord Ashdon’s feet to follow Uncle Geoffrey’s, and she’d be safe.
Evelyn’s knees were beginning to hurt since the floor under the desk was both hard and cold. Why wouldn’t the man leave, for goodness’ sake? She couldn’t see his shoes as she had seen Uncle Geoffrey’s, since he hadn’t come further into the study.
But he definitely hadn’t left.
For one thing, she couldn’t hear his footsteps leaving. For another, her skin was prickling in that odd way it had at dinner, before dinner, in the salon this afternoon. In short, every time she’d been around the man.
Finally, after an interminable wait, she heard footsteps leave the study.
She stayed where she was for a few moments longer to ensure that the coast was clear before slowly getting back onto her feet.
Her legs were screaming a protest as she stood; her heart was racing, and her nerves had deserted her some time ago.
She crept from the room, not even daring to pick up her candle, and sneaked as quickly as she could from the room, all the while terrified that she would be discovered. This had most definitely not gone to plan.
“Ah, there you are.”
Andrew looked up from the papers he’d been perusing at the sound of Jonathan’s voice.
“How was your meeting with your father?” Andrew asked casually, his eyes returning to scan the pages in front of him. During breakfast that morning, while he’d watched Miss Spencer far too much, Geoffrey Spencer had requested an immediate interview with his son. Andrew’s curiosity had been piqued, especially in light of the discovery he’d made last night. He couldn’t believe that Jon’s father would meet with Jon to confess all, but surely it was no coincidence?
“It was — interesting.”
The pause brought Andrew’s eyes back up from the papers to scrutinise his friend’s expression.
“Oh?” was all he said. Jonathan would tell him what he wanted to, when he wanted to.
“Yes, it appears we have a thief in our midst.”
Whatever Andrew expected, it was not this. He had thought that perhaps Mr. Spencer would feed Jon some line or other about what he had been doing in the study with Maisy.
“A thief, you say?”
“Yes, my father says he disturbed someone going through the desk in his study last night. Says you were there too.”
“I had the fortune of bumping into your father while he was — er — hunting. For thieves.”
Jonathan smiled ruefully.
“Am I to guess that his prey was more scullery maid than thief?”
Andrew stayed studiously quiet. Which was all the answer Jonathan needed.
“Hmm. I’ve long been aware of my father’s penchant for unsuspec
ting servants, Ash. The news doesn’t surprise me. The news of a thief, however, does.”
“You believe him?”
“I do.”
Andrew didn’t bother asking why or on what evidence. He’d worked with Jonathan long enough to trust him implicitly, and the feeling, he knew, was mutual.
“Any thoughts as to whom? Or why?”
Jonathan sat in the chair facing Andrew’s and ran a hand through his hair.
“No and no. Well, he certainly has no idea, who but I’m fairly certain he’s hiding something.”
“So whatever he’s hiding, something was taken to do with it?”
“Well, that’s just it. He’s quite sure that nothing is missing.”
Andrew frowned as he ran through what Jon was telling him.
“So nothing is missing, but there’s something in that study that he wants to stay hidden?”
“Not anymore,” Jon said with a wry grin. “He will keep it on his person until such time as he can get to London to have it kept in a safe place apparently.”
“What on earth is he hiding, Jon?”
The mask of joviality that Jonathan wore as a shield slipped momentarily, and Andrew saw that he was worried about his father’s secret.
“I don’t know. Yet.”
Andrew felt a rush of excitement at the thoughts of a new mystery to solve.
“So, it’s to be a working holiday then?” He feigned impatience.
Jon grinned, looking much more like himself.
“So it is.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Evelyn had never, ever used a swear word in her life, but she felt like it right at that moment.
Her aunt always said that eavesdroppers never heard good of themselves. And perhaps the conversation she was trying so hard to hear between her cousin and Lord Ashdon wasn’t about her but it certainly affected her.
The good news was that her uncle didn’t suspect her. The bad news? He now knew that someone was after those papers. And he was going to keep them with him at all times.
Blast!
She’d been so close.
The sound of chairs scraping alerted her to the fact that the men were moving toward the door. Evelyn dashed around the corner and pressed herself against the wall just as the door open and the gentlemen stepped out.
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