Page 64 of The Secret Life of a Lady
Hannah wiped the tear rolling down her cheek. ‘That’s just it, Betty. I don’t want him if he must be forced.’
Betty patted Hannah’s shoulder. In lieu of words, she clucked her tongue in a comforting sound. Hannah wanted to dissolveinto a puddle of misery. But wallowing would accomplish nothing.
Hannah stood, brushing out her skirts. ‘I’ll be fine, Betty. Don’t worry about me. Could you please let the ladies know I shall join them in half an hour? You can tell them I decided to have a lie-in this morning. There’s work to be done, and I’ve let myself be distracted for too long.’
Betty nodded and bustled out of Hannah’s room.
Hannah tucked her note away and straightened her shoulders. The men had gone on a hunting trip, and the other ladies were in the village shopping. The house was empty save Ivy and Millie. She might not get another opportunity to search the bedrooms. She would start with the most likely candidate: Lord Cavendale. Perhaps he kept some incriminating correspondence tucked away in his private chambers.
Hannah walked swiftly down the hallway. Alfred had a suite of rooms closer to his father, and at the far end of the eastern wing was Lord Cavendale’s door. Before she was halfway down the corridor, she heard the unmistakable clack of shoes on the wood floor. If anyone found her in the family wing, there were sure to be questions. Questions she would struggle to answer. She ducked into Alfred’s suite of rooms and quietly shut the door behind her.
Betty had been keeping track of the servants’ schedules. This late in the morning, they should have completed their tasks in the bedrooms and be having their breakfasts or working in the public areas of the house. Part of being good at Hannah’s job was improvising when things didn’t go to plan. She was already there. She might as well do a little snooping before she risked venturing back into the hallway. After Alfred’s abominable behaviour toward Killian, she wouldn’t mind finding him guilty of a crime.
Hannah crept deeper into Alfred’s private domain.
The space was silent and still.
Hannah explored his sitting room first. It was organised more like a private office than a place to sip tea and read books. The activities of men differed greatly from women. So full of purpose and intent while the ladies were expected to needlepoint cushions and paint flowers.
Ridiculous! As if we aren’t just as capable. More so in most cases.
Hannah used her irritation to heighten her focus. She searched his desk and found numerous papers, but after scanning them quickly, they were all related to horseflesh.
The drawers weren’t locked and contained nothing more nefarious than a secret cache of aniseed drops in a linen bag. So, Alfred had a sweet tooth. Hardly criminal.
She moved on to his closet, then his bedroom. After twenty minutes of industrious investigating, she knew his valet neglected to dust the top shelves of Alfred’s closet, and the young man had an alarming addiction to cravats. She counted at least thirty, all in varying shades of snowy white. Unless he was using them to strangle his victims, it hardly helped her cause.
She hadn’t really expected to find anything. It was his father whom she suspected, and she was running short on time. Every stray creak or quiet shuffle could be a servant returning to the room or Alfred himself. What a horrible prospect. What if he got the wrong idea and thought she was there to propose an illicit assignation? Banish the thought. While engaging in physical intimacy with Killian consumed far too much of her mind, the thought of anyone else, especially Alfred Cavendale, made Hannah queasy.
Alfred didn’t seem the kind capable of killing a spider, let alone several women. Still, that was no excuse for shoddy work. She would search his bedroom quickly, then move on to the real target.
His bedroom was undeniably masculine. The walls werepapered in a deep blue with a geometric pattern of dark-grey diamonds. Windows looked out to the expansive lawns. His bed was a mahogany beast dominating the room. Sandalwood, smoke, and a hint of lemon oil created a pleasant scent.
Hannah began with the nightstands, carefully shifting and replacing the objects. She moved on to the credenza sitting between two large windows. One of the drawers was locked, but it only took a minute with her hairpin to spring it. Her hand shook as she removed a velvet jewellery box.
Oh my God. The lily necklace!
She opened the box, and a jewel-encrusted locket caught the light. Hannah blew out a frustrated breath. This was certainly not the simple gold necklace Sarah Bright had been given by her mother. Hannah opened the locket and discovered a small picture of a woman who could have been Ivy’s twin pressed into one side. The other side was empty. Lady Cavendale, Hannah wagered. She recalled the woman had died not long after her youngest daughter’s birth. Alfred must miss his mother to keep her likeness in such a valuable memento. She carefully closed the locket and laid it gently in the box. Putting it back in the drawer, she picked up a folded parchment paper sitting next to it. The broken seal was unusual. The head of a crow, the body of a wolf, and the tail of a snake. Scanning the letter, Hannah’s heart quickened.
Dear sir,
We shall endeavour to keep any evidence hidden as you requested for a compensation of five thousand pounds. We shall send a second note detailing the transfer of funds in a fortnight.
If whispers were to reach Scotland Yard regarding your connection to the tragic victim, a terrible line of inquiry might unravel what has been a lucrative investment for us all. Whilewe hold loyalty to our brotherhood as paramount, under these regrettable circumstances, we would be forced to ensure the immediate elimination of any member who threatens the safety of our community.
We expect a prompt response acknowledging your receipt of this communication and agreement to our terms.
Sincerely,
No signature indicated who wrote the letter. Instead, there was a stamp with the same image as the seal. Hannah took a notebook from her pocket and copied down the letter. Before she could return it, the door to Alfred’s study creaked open.
Buggering blast!
She hastily tucked the letter into her pocket, looking madly around for a hiding spot. Kicking aside the duster, she shimmied under the bed. If the valet had been neglecting the top shelves, the state beneath Alfred’s bed was disastrous. Thick dust clogged her nostrils. She pressed the back of her hand against her nose and willed herself not to sneeze.
While the dark-blue duster almost met the floor, obscuring her from view, a small gap allowed her to see a pair of shoes stride into the room. Hannah held her breath. She had no room to fight were she discovered. If the shoes belonged to Alfred and he chose to lay down on the bed, she would be smothered. Hannah fought back panic.
The shoes stopped in front of the desk. Drawers slid open, then slammed shut. A wild shuffling of papers and muttered curses indicated whatever the man was looking for was not in the desk.
