“Success,” Celia said, feeling more doubt than enthusiasm.
Chapter Four
Thomas stuck hishead inside Elias’s office. “Mr. Portney here to see you, my lord.”
“Send him in.” Elias set aside the Duchess of Hasterton’s papers and rubbed his eyes, which were gritty and overtired from poring over the entire Hasterton files and trying to solve the mystery of their strange situation.
“Good day, my lord.” Mr. Jack Portney, the Bow Street Runner Elias always consulted, approached the desk.
The unmistakably disappointed sag to the man’s shoulders frustrated Elias. “I take it you found nothing on Miss Celia Bening?”
“Nothing, my lord.” Jack removed his hat. “Some good news about that, though. At least there are no records of arrest.” The man worried the brim, slowly turning his topper in his hands. “The only information I found regarding a Bening was when Lady Thea Bening married Edmond Tuttcliffe, the fifth Duke of Hasterton. And of course, the report of the duke’s death in that carriage accident while they were abroad.” He tipped his head to the side and pursed his lips. “Lady Thea was the daughter of a German nobleman and an English mother whose father was a baronet. That would explain the lack of records on the Bening name here in London.”
Elias rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work out the tension from this thoroughly frustrating matter. “Thank you, Jack. I know you did your best.” He pulled a payment voucher out of his center desk drawer, filled it out, and gave it to the fellow. “Take this to James, and your strictest confidence is appreciated, as always.”
“Thank you, my lord. I wish I could have found more.” Jack took the slip, offered a respectful tip of his head, then left the room.
Elias stared down at the dowager’s folder while going back over every nuance of yesterday’s meeting with her and the mysterious yet enticing Miss Bening. The two beauties had to be related. Such a remarkable resemblance would be an extreme rarity any other way.
He snorted with a soft laugh. Of course, they had neither denied nor confirmed a shared bloodline when he had asked. Miss Bening had merely accused him of impertinence.
He checked his timepiece, then scowled down at the newly drawn last will and testament of the Duchess of Hasterton. All the documents needed were the lady’s signature, those of the witnesses, and a seal. But he preferred to wait until he received a response from the solicitor in Germany and the duke himself. Unfortunately, that could take weeks—or, with the duke’s tendency to ignore his correspondence, forever.
Time to call upon the duchess and attempt to buy himself more time. He hated delaying because of her failing health, but felt duty-bound to protectallhis clients. Namely, the current duke and his sister.
Elias rose, tucked the pertinent paperwork into a protective sleeve, then placed the packet into his satchel. “Thomas!” he called while securing the bag’s leather straps and buckles.
The young man popped in as though he was waiting on the other side of the door. “Yes, my lord?”
“A hackney, if you please.”
“Right away, my lord.”
Smiling to himself, Elias looked forward to another enjoyable confrontation with the inimitable Miss Bening. He tucked his satchel under his arm and hurried out to the waiting hackney. Upon arriving at the Hasterton townhouse, he again paid the driver to wait. After all, Miss Bening could very well have him tossed out on his ear when he tried his own bit of subterfuge to counter the many inconsistencies of the Hasterton household.
The front door opened before he banged the lion’s brass ring against its plate.
“Miss Bening is expecting you, my lord,” Gransdon said with a proper bow.
“Miss Bening and the dowager duchess?”
“No, my lord. Her Grace is not receiving today.” The butler closed the front door and directed Elias down the hall to a room on the left. “Miss Bening requested you join her in the library.”
“In the library?” Elias repeated, hoping to draw more information from the stoic servant before entering the delightfully ferocious feline’s den. “Alone?”
Gransdon’s stony expression hardened even more. He came to a halt in front of the partially opened door and held out his hand. “I presume you will keep your bag on your person as before, my lord?”
Elias handed over his hat and gloves. “You presume correctly, Gransdon. Thank you.”
The butler offered another aloof yet respectful nod, then turned and left without a word.
“Do come in, Lord Raines,” Miss Bening called from within. “And leave the door open, if you would.”
“I am yours to command, Miss Bening.” Elias entered cautiously, admiring the multiple levels of a room that could only be described as a book lover’s heaven on earth. Shelves of tomes covered every wall from floor to ceiling on the first level, and from what he could see of the second floor, those walls held more of the same. At the far end of the room, a cheery fire crackled in a modest hearth framed by a pair of generously cushioned chairs perfect for reading.
Miss Bening rose from behind a large mahogany desk at the end of the room closest to him and offered not only a graceful curtsy but an unusually beguiling smile to go along with it. She wore another deep green confection of muslin that brought out her eyes, but this one was embroidered with strands of ivy that accentuated her lovely curves—not that they needed accentuating. Her shapely form caught a man’s eye and turned his thoughts to all sorts of delicious, forbidden possibilities.
“A pleasure to see you again, my lord,” she said in a sultry tone that made him swallow hard.
