Page 50 of The Undesirable Duke
“Mrs. Hall, what on earth is the matter? Why is there a broken window?”
Mrs. Hall’s eyes were wide with fright, and she ushered Samuel into the townhouse.
“My apologies, Your Grace. It all happened very fast.”
“What do you mean?”
As Samuel stepped inside the drawing room, his eyes widened. Not only was the window shattered, there was glass on the floor, and some of the furniture was overturned. Books fromthe bookshelves were strewn on the floor, and Samuel could not believe his eyes.
He slowly paced the length of the room and inspected the damage.
“Please be careful of the glass, Your Grace.”
“Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Hall,” Samuel said and turned to her. “Was anything stolen?”
“Not that we can see, Your Grace. As you arrived, we had just stepped outside to see if anything had been dropped out there, but there was nothing but the broken glass. The study is even worse than this room. We are all trying to sort through the mess. Allow me to show you.”
Samuel followed Mrs. Hall along the corridor and into the study. She was correct; it was more of a shambles than the drawing room. Furniture was overturned, papers strewn about, and the drawers of Samuel’s desk had been emptied on the floor. It was rather strange that the intruder had made such a mess, yet had not stolen anything of value. The priceless paintings still hung on the wall, and the Faberge eggs were still in their display boxes, but everything else had been overturned. Samuel was convinced this was not a normal robbery, but that the person responsible had been searching for something specific.
“Was anyone harmed?” Samuel asked.
“No, Your Grace,” Mrs. Hall said and clasped her hands together, “although two of the maids were very much startled. They were on their way to clean the drawing room when they encountered the scoundrel.”
“They saw the man?”
“Indeed. Perhaps they can give Your Grace a better idea of who the man was, although they are quite startled still,” Mrs. Hall pointed out.
Samuel took a few steps, and glass crunched under his boots. He looked at his feet and noticed a broken vase on the floor,one which his mother had gifted him from France. Its delicate porcelain was in shards, entirely ruined. His jaw tightened as he crouched and touched the delicate pieces.
“Careful of the broken edges,” Mrs. Hall urged.
As she spoke the words, a sharp edge cut Samuel’s hand, and he winced. The glass sliced into his skin, and a searing pain erupted in his hand.
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Hall gasped as she rushed over to him. She reached for a kerchief and pressed it against his skin. The kerchief was immediately stained with Samuel’s blood, and he clenched his fist around the fabric. “Clara,” Mrs. Hall called out to a nearby maid. “A bandage, and make haste.” The maid scurried away and soon returned with a bandage. “You must be more careful with all of this shattered glass.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hall. I am fine.”
“Your Grace, we should-”
“How could this possibly happen, Mrs. Hall? Where were the footmen outside? Where were you? Where were the maids?”
“I was upstairs with the maids, Your Grace. We cleaned the upstairs chambers, turning the sheets and such. I am not certain where the footmen outside were. But I could inquire.”
“I will do that.”
“Your Grace is pale. Perhaps some tea would help.”
“I said I am well. I wish to speak to the staff. Send the maids to me immediately, in the breakfast room, where we will not be standing in all of this mess. And have Billings send for someone to board up the broken window until we can have it properly fixed.”
“As you wish, Your Grace,” Mrs. Hall nodded and left the study.
Samuel stared at the mess around him and sighed with annoyance. It was certainly not a coincidence that this had happened to his home, and he was convinced that it had beenperpetrated by the same person who was behind the article and the letters.
Now, Samuel was more determined than ever to unmask this man, and with the assistance of the maids, hopefully, he would be closer than he was before.
Chapter Sixteen
Still in a dreamy state since her encounter with the Duke, Lillian sipped her tea. The breakfast room was quiet, which suited Lillian perfectly, as she did not wish to share her thoughts with anyone, least of all Timothy, who sat opposite her. He focused deeply on the newspaper in front of him and occasionally drank some of his tea.
