Page 59 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl
It could not have been Ambrose. Why on Earth would his cousin be moving papers like a common thief? More likely that it was a real thief; someone who had sneaked into the building via one of the sections that were structurally unsound.
He rang the bell for Mr Pearson. His hand hovered over the desk, thinking about tidying up. Instinct stopped him. Better that Pearson see the disarray with his own eyes.
“Mr Pearson?” he said as the butler entered. “If you could inform the staff that a thief has infiltrated the building? Someone has gone through my things,” he added, gesturing to the table.
“My lord!” Mr Pearson’s eyes widened in shock. “You don’t think one of the staff...” He trailed off.
“No,” Andrew said briefly. “I don’t. I think a thief has sneaked into the building, probably through the old ballroom. I want the staff to surround the area and ensure he does not escape.”
Mr Pearson bowed at once. “I will order it immediately, my lord.”
“Good.”
Andrew turned around, going back to the bookshelf. A book lay on the floor where someone had thrown it out in haste. He bent down to pick it up. It was a collection of philosophical maxims that had belonged to his father. It had his name written on the front in his own writing. He held it, clutching it briefly to his chest as though it could give him strength.
He pushed the book back onto the shelf and went to go and find Ambrose and Lydia. He did not believe his cousin had really ransacked his office, but it would be reassuring to be certain that he was somewhere else at the time.
As he walked past Grandma’s bedroom, he paused. The door was partly ajar, and he found himself going in. He needed to see her, to hold her hand. If anything could strengthen him, that would. Even when the thinghe needed to face was her own loss, she was still the only person who could help him face it.
He shut the door and sat down by her bed. “Grandma?” he whispered.
“Grandson!” Grandma sat up, her eyes opening, her voice an urgent whisper. Andrew stared in shock and amazement, a huge grin breaking out on his face.
“Grandma!” he exploded, his delight making him laugh aloud. She raised a finger to her lips at once.
“Shh. Nobody must know I’m awake. It’s important.”
“Grandma?” Andrew frowned, thinking that perhaps the fall had damaged something in her mind after all. But her gaze was sparkling and completely lucid.
“It’s Ambrose and Lydia,” she hissed. “They must not know I’m awake. If they do, then they might proceed with their plan.”
“What?” Andrew whispered. “What plan, Grandma?”
“Lock the door, Andrew,” she instructed. “We cannot risk being overheard.”
“Of course,” Andrew said at once and stood to lock it.
He came back to sit down by the bedside.
“What plan?” he asked again.
“Ambrose and Lydia did not come to visit me out of familial concern,” Grandma explained. “They are in league with Dr Wainwright, and they mean to poison me. Once I am gone, they intend to kill you next. And soon, before you have produced an heir.” She sounded matter-of-fact, as though she was discussing the weather.
“What?” Andrew stared. “No. No, Grandma. That cannot be true.” The cousins were not pleasant company, but they were not killers. He was almost sure of it.
Grandma’s gaze held his. “I overheard them. They discussed it quite openly with the physician. It’s one advantage of people thinking you’re insensible. They talk freely.”
“Grandma!” Andrew’s chest tightened at her words, the horror of the implication settling heavily over him. Yet, there was something almost wry in her observation. She was so sly! He could not help admiring her, but the fear returned almost at once. “What did they say?” he asked seriously.
“They wish to secure the earldom. More even than that, they want the treasure.”
“Treasure?” Andrew asked, thinking that perhaps, after all, the fall had affected her. “What manner of treasure?” he asked gently. “We’re quite destitute, Grandma. Without Emmeline’s dowry, we would have nothing but debt.”
“Wethinkourselves poor,” Grandma retorted. “But somewhere in these grounds is an ancient treasure—or so your uncle believed. He was close to finding it when he passed away.”
“My uncle?”
“Ambrose and Lydia’s father.”
