“I have always thought Thebson an odd sort.” Grace wrinkled her nose. “But as bumbling and unorganized as he is, do you truly believe he could not only orchestrate but conceal such a betrayal?”
“Perhaps his bumbling is an act?” Mrs. Mortimore suggested.
“No one could put on an act that convincing,” Fortuity said while mentally crossing the butler off the list of possibilities. “But he is the one who not only received the letters at the door but also delivered them to Matthew.”
“Did Matthew open them in front of him? Did the man know what the letters held or who they were from?” Grace asked.
Fortuity frowned, trying to remember. “No. Matthew didn’t open any of them in front of him, and as far as I can recall, Thebson only mentioned a messenger waiting for a response on the first letter. But that does not necessarily mean he knew the duchess was the sender.” She held up the pamphlet to Mrs. Mortimore. “May I have this copy, please? I need it to confront my staff.”
“Of course, my lady.” The matron refreshed her tea, then gave a curt nod. “And if there is anything else I may do to help with this unpleasantness, I beg of you, do not hesitate to ask.”
“This sanctuary you provide helps me more than you could ever know,” Fortuity told her. “I am most grateful for your friendship and your understanding ear.”
Mrs. Mortimore accepted the praise and thankfulness with a graceful nod. “It is my honor, my lady. Now, do finish your tea before it grows cold.”
Fortuity obediently took another sip, knowing she would need the tea’s fortification for the next activity on this afternoon’s agenda: interrogating her staff.
*
“You do nothave to come inside and help,” Fortuity said. “It could become unpleasant.” She dreaded what she was about to do, dreaded it with a fury.
Grace gave her a defiant look as they climbed Ravenglass Townhouse’s front steps. “No one betrays one of my sisters and escapes my wrath. No one.”
“Very well, then.” Fortuity glanced back at George, Broadmere House’s head footman, standing beside the carriage bearing the Broadmere ducal crest. “Guard Lady Grace’s books well, George. You know how she can be.”
The handsome young man grinned, then gave them a proper bow. “With my life, Lady Ravenglass.”
As they entered the townhouse, Thebson failed to greet them, but Ignatius the pug and Rumbles the ginger cat made up for his absence. The enthusiastic animals bounced around them, vying for attention.
“You need more dogs,” Grace said as she scratched the wiggling canine behind his ears. “Poor Ignatius is outnumbered.”
Fortuity rubbed the loudly purring orange tabby under his chin. “Rumbles here acts more like a dog than a cat. That evens the odds somewhat.”
Mrs. Greer came around the corner and clapped her hands. “All right, you two. Off with you to the kitchen. Cook has you a treat, and those other three are already at it. You best hurry or there’ll be none left for you.”
Appearing to understand every word, the pug and the cat took off down the hallway.
“And how are you this fine day, Lady Grace?” Mrs. Greer asked with her usual cheerfulness.
“That remains to be seen, I am afraid.” Grace gave Fortuity a pointed look.
“Oh dear.” The housekeeper turned to Fortuity with an expectant tip of her head. “My lady?”
Fortuity picked at the cat hair on her gown, loathing what she was about to do. “Mrs. Greer, could you please assemble everyone, including Mr. Ablesby, Mr. Turnmaster, and the stable lads? I would like to speak to the entire household regarding a most dire matter.”
“Everyone as well as the valet, head groom, and the lads?” The housekeeper’s eyes went wide, and she clucked like a fretting hen. “Must be a dire matter, indeed.”
“Indeed, it is.” Fortuity swallowed hard and squared her shoulders, determined to see this through. “Please gather them in the dining room, then come and fetch me from my office.”
“At once, my lady.” Mrs. Greer toddled off, still making fretting noises and shaking her head.
“I hate this,” Fortuity told her sister as they entered her office to wait. “I hate this with everything in me.”
“You have no choice. You have to be able to trust your staff. Don’t accuse them. Just read the insulting drivel to them, and I shall help you by watching their reactions.”
“What if they fail to react?”
Grace scowled at Fortuity as if she thought her a mindless ninny. “Of course they will react. How could they not? And whoever doesn’t react may be your culprit.” She moved to the window, fingered the draperies aside, and peered out. “By the way, where is your husband?”
