Page 80 of Rules for Heiresses
The night of pleasure they’d shared in the conservatory came back to mind. She had started falling for him long before that. A small, rueful smile touched her lips as she recalled the falsehood for what it had been. “Well, I did.”
“Don’t let this misfortune”—he gestured to himself—“ruin you.”
She leaned over the desk, uncaring of the other men in the room. “You are neither misfortune nor ruin, Courtland Chase. You’re the star…the light that brightens everything it touches. It’s time you saw that.”
His eyes widened, but Ravenna knew he wouldn’t change his mind. Not just yet. She would have to show him. Turning on her heel, she stalked from the study, nodding to her brother, Waterstone, and Rawley, whose faces seemed suitably discomfited. It was good to see she wasn’t losing her touch when it came to causing mayhem. As if a woman couldn’t announce that she loved a man in her own home. It was laughable, really.
She had a plan. Well, the glimmerings of one. Ideas spun through her brain. If Stinson was the one responsible, there was a chance he’d have the documents from the thieves—the proof they needed. Grabbing a shawl and a bonnet, she tucked the foul gossip rag under her arm, left the house, and went across the street.
After knocking, she was greeted by a butler who peered down the length of his nose at her, surprise on his face at a visitor at such an early hour. Drat, this was London. She’d always been an early riser, even after late nights of dancing, but most of thetonstayed in bed until the afternoon.
“May I help you, miss?”
From the look on his face, Ravenna wished she’d worn something fancier than the plain morning gown she’d donned or remembered to bring her calling cards. But then she shook her head. She was a goddamned duchess!
She squared her shoulders. “Her Grace, the Duchess of Ashvale, to see Lady Bronwyn.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” He bowed. “I shall see if Lady Bronwyn is at home to callers.”
His tone, despite the formal address, made it sound like it was an absurd request. Ravenna wanted to scowl. Rising before noon wasn’t a crime. She only hoped that Bronwyn wasn’t still abed.
Not long later, a smiling Bronwyn came down the hallway. Thankfully, it looked like she hadn’t been dragged out of bed. “Your Grace, how lovely it is to see you. Humbold, send for tea in the morning room.”
“Lady Bronwyn,” she said. “I apologize for the early hour.”
“Pish, posh, I’ve been up for hours,” Bronwyn replied. “Though Mama and Florence are both still abed. Stinson has not returned, though he hasn’t been here for the last few nights.” She lowered her voice as she beckoned for Ravenna to follow. “I suspect he spent the evening at his club or with his mistress.”
Despite her shock at the girl’s nonchalant statement, Ravenna did not reply. Once they were ensconced in the room, and the tea was served and poured, she closed the door. Bronwyn’s eyes went wide, but she did not say anything. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but I need your help.”
A pair of shrewd blue eyes assessed her over her teacup. “I’m afraid you’ll have to give me more than that.”
Gracious, it was like dealing with a mini-Courtland. She was his mirror in everything but coloring. Even the attentive expression on her face reminded Ravenna of Courtland. She hid her smile, but something like warmth filled her heart.
“My husband, your brother, confided that you thought…kindly of him.”
She nodded. “I do.”
“You might be the only one in your family who does.”
Bronwyn sighed. “No need to couch your words. I’m well aware of my mother’s and brother’s opinions. Florence vacillates.”
“He’s in trouble.” With that, Ravenna handed over the newssheets. She watched as the girl scanned the front page, blue eyes widening with every breath.
“Goodness, this is dreadful. Courtland is duke; there’s no contestation.”
“Stinson doesn’t feel that way.”
Bronwyn folded the offending papers and, with a decisiveness that made Ravenna like her more, thrust them into the grate. “What is it you need my help for? My brother has no care for me, and I have little sway with him. If he’s behind this, you know what he’s capable of.”
“Can I trust you?”
“If you’re here, then you must already do so.”
Ravenna drew a breath. It was a windfall that Stinson was not at home, one she couldn’t afford to miss. She’d planned to speak to Bronwyn to find out Stinson’s usual routine,thenreturn with a plan to snoop. “Very well, I need to search his rooms.”
The younger woman bit her lip, none of her thoughts visible on her face, but after an interminable moment, gave a firm nod. “If you think that will help.”
Rising, she went to the door and crooked a finger to Ravenna. Together, they dashed up the stairs, stopping on the landing where Bronwyn put a finger to her lips. They tiptoed past several closed doors until Bronwyn stopped at one near the end. It opened with a creak that made Ravenna wince, but there were no other noises, from the door or elsewhere in the residence.
