Page 92 of Surrender Your Grace
They laid out the evidence. The draft, anonymous letter, and the journal side by side by side. The identical loops in the Es jumped off the page.
It’s a match, Cici. It’s Elizabeth.”
“I know,” she whispered. “And it gets worse. Read the newest entries.”
One hand drifted to her throat as she read, and she gasped at one point. Cici could guess which one. Several pages in, her friend looked up—stricken.
“It wasn’t just jealousy. She hated you,” Maggie murmured. “The entitlement is terrifying. She believed she wasowedyour life. And when she couldn’t have it—she tried to take it.”
She swallowed hard. “And almost succeeded.”
“Oh, my dear…” her friend whispered, opening her arms.
Cici went to her without hesitation, her breath catching on a sob. “At least… we have p-proof now.”
A voice sliced through the air. “Proof of what?”
Duncan.
Then Andrew, sharper still. “A better question—why is Cici crying?”
Their bittersweet triumph short-lived, the women turned as the men strode in, their eyes catching on the papers scattered across the table.
Andrew picked up the journal. “What’s this?”
“We’ve been investigating Lady Winslow and Elizabeth,” Cici said, lifting her chin.
A muscle ticked in Andrew’s jaw. “After Ispecificallyasked you to leave it to me?”
“I did the legwork,” Maggie jumped in.
Both men turned their glares on her.
“We eliminated Lady Winslow due to her financial straits, ever since—” She stopped, her eyes shifting to Andrew then darting away.
“Since losing her wealthy benefactor several months ago. That was you, Husband,” Cici supplied coolly.
“That was understood without explaining,” he muttered.
“Anyway,” Maggie said briskly, brushing past the awkward pause, “we focused on Elizabeth. We think she hired the man with the cane but haven’t proven it yet.”
“Youthink?” Duncan echoed, folding his arms. “Did you also think yourself a detective, poking into things best left to men with pistols and warrants?”
“Since such men weren’t forthcoming, yes!” Maggie snapped.
Andrew’s tone turned glacial. “Do not be impertinent, Margaret. What you did was reckless—”
“And dangerous,” Duncan growled, burr deepening. “What if itwasn’tElizabeth? What if you were caught snooping and silenced? You could’ve been the next to fall under a hackney’s wheels.”
“I wascareful.”
“A nineteen-year-old debutante turned crime-solver,” he muttered. “Brilliant. I can sleep easy now.”
Maggie’s glare was as fierce as his.
Cici stepped between them. “Please don’t blame her. We couldn’t just sit idly by.”
Andrew’s voice cut through hers. “You thinkIwas doing nothing?”
