Page 64 of A Vow for the Viscount
“Begging your pardon, Miss Seaton,” he said to Mary-Ann. “Mr. Kenworth is in the front hall. He asks for a moment of your time.”
Mrs. Bainbridge immediately perked up. “Barrington’s man? Oh, do ask if he has strong feelings about lavender. These ribbons are destroying my will to live.”
Mary-Ann rose, brushing a smudge of ink from her sleeve. “I’ll return shortly.”
Before she could leave the room, Mrs. Bainbridge stood as well, gathering her scattered papers and bits of ribbon. “Oh, have him help me carry these things, would you? I can’t manage the guest list and my dignity at the same time. My house is close to Barrington’s. I won’t take him out of his way.”
Kenworth stood just inside the door, gloved hands neatly folded behind his back. He bowed when she entered.
“Miss Seaton. His lordship sends his regards. I’ve been asked to deliver a few updates.”
She nodded. “Go on.”
Your father’s vessel, theArgent Wind, has not yet arrived at port in Scarborough. Lord Barrington has dispatched Captain Hollingsworth to investigate more closely. He departed at first light.”
Mary-Ann’s breath caught, not in pain, but with the surprise of a shift in the wind. She imagined saying goodbye at the garden gate, offering caution in place of care. Instead, he had simply gone. It was a reasonable silence. And it stung anyway.
“He’s in Scarborough?”
“Yes, my lady. Lord Barrington believed he was best suited to the task. A discreet hand, loyal eyes.”
She folded her arms, more to keep her balance than to appear unimpressed. “He didn’t think to tell me himself?”
Kenworth’s mouth twitched faintly. “He may have wished to. But dawn does not always allow for courtesies.”
She nodded once. “Thank you.”
She told herself it didn’t matter, that the work came first, that it always had. But her hand tightened slightly against her sleeve. He should have told her.
She hadn’t realized how much she’d been hoping to see him. Just once more, before this all began.
Kenworth inclined his head again. “If there is anything you wish to relay to his lordship or the captain, you need only send word.”
“I will.”
She turned, but Kenworth added quietly, “Captain Hollingsworth left with a purpose. That’s usually when he does his best work.”
Mary-Ann paused, then offered a small smile. “So do I.”
The house was quiet again. Mary-Ann returned to her room without interruption, her mind already stitching together pieces of a plan. She moved with purpose now, not the hesitant cautionof days past, but with the calm certainty of someone who had decided which truths to pursue.
She crossed to her writing desk and sat, listening to the hush of the room, the faint creak of floorboards beneath her chair, the whisper of the sea beyond the glass. She didn’t write a letter. She made a list.
•Wilkinson’s control at the docks
•The altered ledger
•The missingArgent Wind
•Lydia’s probing questions
•The recovered letter
She stared at the list, letting the shape of it settle in her mind. It wasn’t just a trail. It was a map. And the more she looked, the more it seemed to point to a single destination: the docks. It was no longer a collection of strange events. It was a pattern.
She folded the page and tucked it behind a dull household note in the journal, then slipped it into the back of a drawer. A record for herself. A thread to follow later when no one else was watching.
She passed the desk on her way to the wardrobe, her gaze brushing the corner where the letter still lay. She hadn’t touched it since the first reading. She didn’t need to. Its words had rooted beneath her skin, steadying her every step since.
