Page 53 of My Noble Disgrace

Glancing back at the prone man on the ground, I started my climb, my limbs still shaking as the sharp, cold iron dug into my hands. Part of me wished I didn’t feel any remorse at all. It would make it so much easier to stop caring about casualties along the way. I thought of the arsenal and what Keane would’vedone if he got to it. I allowed myself, just for a moment, to imagine the sheer power I could wield and the changes I could make if I didn’t mind hurting people.

Maybe holding myself to a certain moral standard was just holding me back.

I dropped to the grass, jolted back to the present moment, and picked up the bag of supplies.

The dark house beckoned to me from across the grounds.

It was time to face my father.

The curfew bell rang as we passed through the grounds. We kept to the shadows and the cover of trees and shrubs, only darting through the open lawn when we had to. I aimed for the back servants’ door—or the door servants used back when we had them.

I reached it and tried the handle. Locked.

Not surprising, knowing my father. I knocked on the slim chance that he’d come down to open it. But there was no response. No sound at all to greet my knock.

“Come on,” I said to Cait, heading toward the French back doors. I checked those handles—also locked—then went to the windows.

My father’s room was on the first floor at the front of the house, but I had no idea if that was where he would be, and I didn’t want to risk being seen from the avenue. My father often read by the fireplace in the living room or stayed in the dining room long after eating, a glass of wine in hand. He was a bit of a wanderer, and I imagined under house arrest he’d be exercising what little freedom he had by spending time in as many different rooms as possible. Or maybe they’d locked him in one room and were treating him more like an actual prisoner. Perhaps he couldn’t open the door even if he did hear us.

We needed to get inside before the Enforcer came to and heard us. I checked one window after the other, hoping one might not be fully latched, but they all seemed to be.

I didn’t know what I’d do or say once I got inside.Hello, father, you betrayed me and I despise you. Mind if we stay the night and plot our escape together?

I almost laughed out loud over the absurdity of the thought. I couldn’t understand why I felt so desperate to help him. Of course, I also felt a desperate need to have a place to stay rather than being captured and imprisoned.

After checking all the possible back entrances, I went to the far side of the house, pushing past shrubs and reaching for the windows. All locked.

“Stay here,” I said to Cait, her lacy white bloomers far too bright, even in the low light.

I crept to the front of the house, ducking low as I made my way to the porch. I took a breath and tried the front door.

The knob turned.

My mouth fell open and I pushed just enough to slip through and shut it behind me.

“Father?” I asked, my voice echoing against the hard marble floor and pillars of the entry hall.

I was greeted with nothing but darkness and silence.

My heart began to pound. I passed through the hall, the dining room, then the living room, all the way to the back door. Unlatching it, I whispered to Cait to come in, her bright figure hurrying toward me with the bundle of skirts in her arms.

I let her in and locked the door behind her.

“Are you sure your father’s here?” she asked. “It seems pretty deserted.”

“He has to be here!” I insisted. I ran to his bedroom door, but it was open and empty. I continued through the house, checking everywhere.

Searching high and low, I cautiously lit a lantern, keeping my distance from the windows. We descended into the cellars, the final rooms to search. I went to the secret door of our weapon room, except it wasn’t closed as it always had been. The door hung open on its hinges.

I stepped in and raised my lantern.

The room had been emptied. Not a single knife or weapon remained.

My father was nowhere to be found.

Chapter

Sixteen

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