Page 95 of Legacy of Roses

“I never noticed an outside door in the conservatory,” Oscar said doubtfully. “Are you sure there’s one there?”

“It’s half size,” Rosalie explained. “We think the gardeners used it to shovel soil and move plants in and out. So they wouldn’t have to carry them as far, or trail dirt through the manor.”

They reached the conservatory at a half run, taking only a moment to locate the door. Dimitri used his key to open it, dropping to his hands and knees and crawling through first.

It was a tight fit, and at one point he feared his clothes had been caught. But he managed to force his way into the glassed room. And he was the largest. If he’d made it through, the others would as well.

He didn’t wait to watch them enter, crossing straight to the room’s main door and easing it open. No one was visible in the corridor beyond, so he stepped through.

“Wait!” Rosalie hissed behind him, and he glanced back.

He wanted to rush ahead, to face the danger on his own. He hated the thought of Rosalie being at risk yet again. But they didn’t even know where the danger was. Despite his impatience, it was safer for them all to stay together.

Daphne and the triplets crowded behind Rosalie, although he wasn’t sure which boy was which. He had learned to tell them apart by their voices, and he was still getting used to who was who by appearance.

“We outnumber them,” he said, “but they might be armed. No one do anything rash.” He focused his words toward the boys, but after their latest mistakes they were too subdued to behave rashly.

He drew his sword, and Rosalie gave a start at the sight of it. He frowned. Was she afraid? She had never reacted to the weapon before.

But she didn’t look fearful as she retrieved something from her boot. When she straightened, she was holding the hilt of a miniature dagger, the blade still enclosed in an equally small scabbard. Apparently, the sight of his weapon had reminded her that she had one of her own. If something that tiny could even be considered a weapon.

She looked at him and gave a classic Rosalie smile. “I can explain it,” she whispered, “or we can find Jace before he steals everything the Legacy gave us.”

He grinned back. “I vote we find Jace.”

He led them down the corridor, Rosalie following with Daphne at her side.

“Do you have one for me?” Daphne whispered behind him.

“Sorry, she only gave me one,” Rosalie murmured back, spiking his curiosity.

He couldn’t imagine why anyone would want a dagger so small it could do little damage. He preferred his sword steady in his hand any day.

The entryway seemed the best place to start, so he headed straight there. He was rewarded by the sight of three men descending the last of the main stairs. The one in front—Jace—carried a slim case, while the other two huffed with the shared weight of a closed chest.

Rosalie had been right. They’d gone straight for the locked rooms and were already trying to get out again.

Dimitri strode forward, standing in the middle of the entryway and meeting Jace’s eyes.

“I already told you that you’re not welcome here.”

Jace laughed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have a key.” He held up the master key ring with one finger. “Do you really think the guards will appreciate being dragged into a family squabble?”

Rosalie joined Dimitri, and he had to squash the instinct to sweep her back, out of danger.

“I already told you that I won’t let you get away with your lies!” she cried to Jace, her whole body quivering with fury.

Dimitri tensed. They were talking about something he didn’t understand, and he hated the reminder of all the threats Jace had made to Rosalie. What had he said to her now?

“But I’m not lying.” Jace’s smug smile moved from Rosalie to Dimitri. “Can’t you tell by looking at us?”

Rosalie’s indignation faltered, her brow creasing as her eyes traveled between them. She didn’t have to answer. He already knew she’d noticed a similarity between him and Jace. Even Wyatt had commented on it at the Mortar and Pestle.

Dimitri stared at Jace, trying to analyze his features objectively. He supposed he could see a similarity—in general coloring if nothing else. And their eyes were quite alike. But Jace lacked the straight nose that graced a number of portraits in the manor and which Dimitri also saw in his mirror.

“I don’t care what you look like,” Rosalie said, recovering her fire. “You’re not a distant cousin of the old lord, and no one around here is going to believe nonsense like that. You’re forgetting that everyone in Thebarton knows your true colors. And my family isn’t going to retract our claim against you either.”

“It’s true that I’m no relative of the old lord,” Jace said, admitting the truth with surprising alacrity. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not a relative of Dimitri.” His smile grew. “Why do you think I came to Thebarton in the first place? I found no sign of my brother back then, only a useless, derelict building. Happily I discovered you instead.”

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