“You can get upstairs that way without being seen. You should find yourself far enough away from the ball itself and none ofthe staff should be in that part of the house at this time. I was assured they’ll all be far too busy in the great hall.”
“Impeccable. Thank you.” Seth nodded once more to Marcus and hurried down the front porch steps, examining the garden and his best route to the rear entrance.
“The study is on the second floor,” Marcus called to him, shadowing his steps. “You’ll find it tucked away in the west wing of the building. I’m told the door is recognizable by its ornate gold handle.”
Seth thanked him again and walked through the garden. He brushed aside outstretched branches from a yew tree, angered by them. He ended up tearing the handkerchief off his already injured hand, making the bleeding worse.
“Bloody thing,” he cursed under his breath, halting when light fell on a patch of garden.
Seth looked sharply toward the side of the house and the open windows. He could glimpse part of the ballroom. Many ladies danced, dressed grandly in great dresses with hair adorned in birds’ feathers or turbans, a foolish fashion, in Seth’s opinion. The gentlemen laughed raucously, tipping claret glasses to their lips.
What it must have been like to laugh in such a fashion! Seth could not remember doing so, not for many years now.
Out of fear of being seen, Seth retreated deeper into the garden, darting between the yew bushes. At least in nature, he felt more at home. His home in Axfordshire was surrounded by parkland and rich signs of wildlife. He preferred being there. At least the whistle of the wind and the tweets of the birds provided a chance to escape the loneliness and emptiness of his house.
As Seth reached the back door, he followed Marcus’ instructions to the letter, taking the door which led into the servants’ quarters. He could hear catcalls coming from the kitchens, where the cooks must have been preparing some last-minute delicacies for the party.
Seth carefully walked past the door to the kitchen, heading toward a spiral staircase that was hidden between two great old sketches of the house that had been framed and attached to the wall. Slowly, he moved up the stairs, listening at all times for any sign of someone coming the other way.
When he reached the main floor, he halted, peering through an open door into the corridor.
A footman appeared before him, suddenly, carrying a tray of empty glasses.
“Oh.” The man stumbled back, alarmed. “Forgive me, sir.” He bowed, clearly not knowing who Seth was, but recognized the formal dress and must have supposed him to be one of the guests for the ball. “What can I do for you, sir?”
“You find a man who is quite lost.” Seth affected an easy countenance. “You have come along at the right time, my good man. Tell me, where will I find the privy?”
The footman smiled humorously and pointed toward the main stairwell.
“In that door there.”
“Much obliged.” Seth walked toward the door set on the side of the staircase and waited for the footman to disappear. As the footman darted down the spiral staircase, Seth looked to the main stairwell above him.
It was the second of two sets of stairs described to him by Marcus. This one avoided the front of the house and where the rest of the guests were. Seth checked over his shoulder, unconsciously adjusting his cravat that hid his burn mark one more time, before he hurried up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time.
He hastened into the corridor, trying to head toward the west wing of the building. He examined every door handle, looking for a gold one, but to his dismay, he found every handle was gold.
“What?” he muttered under his breath, flicking his head back and forth as he looked at each of the doors in turn. What sort of arrogant man ensured every door in his house was gilded with gold?
Footsteps sounded down the corridor and Seth froze.
He’d come to this house with a reason in mind. He was hardly the sort of man that would break into a house, not by any means. Yet he was desperate, and knowing the crime that the Earl of Holmwood had committed all those years ago, Seth was prepared to go to any measures in order to prove the man’s guilt.
Those footsteps grew closer.
Out of fear of being caught, Seth reached for the nearest door and flung it open, hurrying inside. He closed it as quietly as he could.
There was no light in the room, no hint of a candle, so he strained in the darkness to see there was a key in the lock and slowly flicked it shut. He pressed his ear to the wood, trying to hear where the footsteps went next.
“Oh, this is ridiculous,” a voice suddenly declared from behind him.
Seth whipped his head around.
By Jove, what is my luck.
An adjoining door opened, and a woman entered from a garderobe. She seemed unsteady on her feet and shook her head as she rubbed her hands together on a cloth.
“I will not do it. I will not,” she muttered repeatedly.
