Page 93 of The Mistletoe Countess
Frederick, my brother,
I have wronged you beyond forgiveness. Do what I could not.
Grace stood so fast her gilded chair nearly tumbled over.
“Lady Astley?” Ellie called as Grace ran for the door. “I still need to set your hair.”
“What care I for hair when there is such a discovery upon us, Ellie.” She jerked open the door and peered back at her wide-eyed maid. “I must find Lord Astley at once.”
Frederick stood just outside his office, speaking to Brandon and looking rather dashing in his evening tails. Grace almost lost her train of thought in order to give him the thorough appreciation such a figure deserved, but she blinked from her stupor and focused on the task at hand.
“Frederick. I found something.”
Frederick’s head came up, and Brandon’s eyes grew wide as she approached at a pace quite unlike a countess. Perhaps her wild hair had something to do with it as well.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded and took Frederick by the hand, pulling him into the study away from listening ears. “You come too, Brandon. I think we’ll need an extra pair of eyes.”
Brandon looked to Frederick, who hesitated for only a moment before gesturing for Brandon to follow. As soon as the door clicked closed, Grace pulled the paper from behind her back and turned it for Frederick’s view. “I found the will. Your brother must have known you’d want your grandparents’ letters, so he hid it there for you to find. It’s proof of what you already knew. Edward had written her out of everything.” Her breath pulsed as she tried to calm down. “Not only Celia, but your mother too.”
“What are you talking about?” Frederick took the paper and read over the words, his face paling. When he turned to the next page, he pressed his palm to his head and collapsed into a nearby chair.
“He…he wrote to me.” Frederick’s words emerged on broken air.
He worked his jaw as if attempting to control his emotions. Oh, her dear \hero. She lowered herself to her knees by his chair and rested her hand against his arm, drawing Frederick’s watery focus back to her. “He called mebrother.”
Grace’s vision blurred at the mingling of grief and gratefulness weaving across Frederick’s features. For too long he’d carried the label ofoutcast, unforgiven especially by one of the most important people in his life, and now, painfully late and from the grave, his brother offered healing.
Frederick drew in a shaky breath and wiped a hand across his eyes. “I’ll present this to Piper when he arrives and phone Detective Miracle.” He sat up straighter. “But he’ll be here in a few days to look at it himself.” He offered the will to Brandon. “The signature looks authentic.”
Brandon studied the paper and nodded. “Indeed, sir.”
“I hope this will provide you some peace, knowing he thought of you at the end.” Grace stood and wrapped her fingers around his. “That he believed in you.”
Frederick cleared his throat. “There is a measure of solace in that.”
“I’m only sorry I didn’t find it sooner.” She sighed. “I’d have gotten through the letters yesterday if I hadn’t been so tired from another ghost hunt.”
The dinner bell sounded from the other side of the door, so Grace moved in that direction, but Frederick caught her by the arm. “What did you say?”
Grace looked from Brandon to Frederick. “I wish I’d found the will sooner?”
“Something about a ghost hunt?”
“Oh goodness, yes. Brandon can attest to it.” She leaned forward, the tantalizing details of the past two nights still tingling near the surface of her memory. “One of the servants said there was a ghost living in the east wing.” She paused, shaking her head. “Well I suppose, it’s not really alive, so it’s notlivingin the east wing, but haunting the east wing. I went in search of it so you wouldn’t have to be bothered when you returned home.”
His eyes narrowed as she continued.
“But I’m afraid you’ll have to be bothered, because the first night I saw the ghost, but it disappeared before I could identify it, and the second night, the ghost never appeared at all.”
He was blinking like he had something in his eyes.
“I don’t really think it’s a ghost.” Grace offered, trying to remain sensible. “But someone certainly walks about the east wing in a white gown, moaning at night.”
“Why haven’t I heard of this before now?” Frederick turned to Brandon.
“It only began during your travels to the States, sir.”
