Page 60 of A Vow for the Viscount
Mary-Ann looked up. “Is something wrong?”
Mrs. Aldridge didn’t answer right away. Instead, she opened the folded linen to reveal not towels, but a familiar cloth-wrapped booklet, the ledger she’d hidden.
Mary-Ann’s breath caught. “But… it was in the wall.” Mary-Ann blinked. “How did you know where to find it?”
Mrs. Aldridge’s mouth curved, just barely. “Same place you hid that kitten when you were nine. The one you found behind the stables and swore to protect from your father’s old hound.”
Mary-Ann’s lips parted. “You remember that?”
“The entire household was turning over boots and boxes looking for that poor creature. Mr. Hollis was the one who found it, curled up behind the panel, shivering and wrapped in one of your old petticoats.”
A breath of laughter escaped her, soft and stunned. “I’d forgotten.”
“We hadn’t,” Mrs. Aldridge said gently. “You’ve always known how to keep what matters safe.” She stepped closer, her voice quiet but firm. “You trusted your instincts enough to hide it. Trust them again, miss. And know this: whatever game Mr. Wilkinson and that lady’s maid are playing, not everyone in this house is fooled.”
Mary-Ann reached for the booklet slowly, cradling it in both hands. She felt the shape of it, the familiar weight. Her fingers tightened. “I hadn’t realized it was missing,” she said quietly.
“You were never meant to,” Mrs. Aldridge replied. “But someone else did.”
There was a long pause. Mary-Ann looked up, emotion rising unbidden in her throat. “You knew,” she said.
Mary-Ann held the book tighter.
Mrs. Aldridge patted her hand gently. “Whatever else happens, you’re not alone. Not with us here.” She turned and left, closing the door softly behind her.
Mary-Ann stood in place for several moments, the ledger clutched against her chest. The quiet settled around her, enveloping her, still and close, but her thoughts moved swiftly, not just about the book or what had been taken, but about the realization that she was no longer alone in this fight.
She set the ledger down gently and crossed to the window, needing some air. Just as she reached to open the windowpane, she caught movement near the gates. A familiar figure was striding up the walk, his coat dark against the green hedges.
Quinton.
He hadn’t sent word ahead, hadn’t asked permission. He simply came, as if drawn by some unspoken summons. Mary-Ann watched him from the window a moment longer, then turned and made her way downstairs.
She found him in the garden a few minutes later, standing near the edge of the rose arbor with his hands clasped behind his back. The breeze teased his hair, and the morning light softened the edge of his profile.
“You’re early for an uninvited caller,” she said lightly.
Quinton turned. The corner of his mouth tilted up. “And you’re late for someone hiding a kingdom behind her wainscoting.”
She arched a brow. “Wait. How do you know about the wainscoting?”
He paused, clearly caught.
“Who told you?” she pressed. “That hiding place wasn’t common knowledge.”
Quinton shifted, not looking away. “No one told me directly. Mrs. Aldridge mentioned that something had been recovered. She didn’t say what, but I put the rest together. She said you’ve always known how to keep what matters safe. That sounded like you.”
Mary-Ann studied him. “So you guessed.”
“I remembered how you used to squirrel things away when we were younger, behind books, under loose stones, inside hollow chair legs. It made sense you’d still do it.”
She tilted her head. “You always were annoyingly observant.”
“And you were always impossible to surprise. I come bearing no refreshments. Only admiration.”
Mary-Ann smiled, the expression unguarded. “That’s new.”
“I’ve always admired you,” he said. “I just wasn’t always brave enough to admit it.”
