Multiple times through their search, Harris and his men found them and made reports to Maria, apprising her of their positions within the house. In every instance, Jasper was in awe of—and, he must admit, aroused by—Maria’s role as supervisor in his case. And every time, he could not help but imagine Maria directing and organizing his—their—home and staff in such a way. He liked that thought very much indeed.
* * *
Darkness surroundedMaria but for the fire still blazing in Jasper’s study. It drew her into the room, the warmth and lingering scent of lemons and bergamot enveloping her. At some point during their examination of the second-floor rooms, they had agreed to separate and conduct their own searches. It was meant to save time, but it left Maria feeling lonely without his company. It also meant that she would not be able to explore Jasper’s bedchamber.
Now, he was a door away in a parlour while she was alone in his study. A decidedly naughty part of her wanted very much to peruse his documents and personal effects, to learn more about him, to perhaps feel closer to him. She would, however, neither betray his trust nor disregard her duty as a runner.
Instead, this was her opportunity to search, unimpeded, for any proof that Jasper’s father had nothing to do with Miss Jean Sinclair’s death—in addition to searching for signs of Francis. Jasper had mentioned that he, Juliana, and their father had been in London, at an exhibit of wax sculptures, on the occasion of Miss Sinclair’s death. Surely it was possible that evidence might have been left behind by the previous duke.
There was only one way in which to find out.
She scanned the room as low firelight flickered over every surface and threw shadows into stark relief.
A letter lying atop Jasper’s desk caught her gaze, the scrawledMr. Sinclairdrawing her forward. She picked it up, tilting it toward the light, and scanned its contents.
Your Grace,
I would understandyour concern if your accusations were accurate, but as previously stated, these letters are the work of Mr. Sinclair’s hired ruffians. My men are working tirelessly to apprehend them.
Sir Ludlow Vaughan
A frown creasedMaria’s brow, and she returned the letter to Jasper’s desk. The magistrate was scarcely making any effort to capture Francis, and he was certainly not inspiring confidence in the abilities of the Home Office.
It was fortunate, then, that Maria and her team had taken the case.
She continued her pursual of the space.
If any evidence existed—and the old duke had chosen to hide it—it would no doubt be in a place that Jasper had yet to uncover. That would leave out strongboxes, false-bottomed drawers, or the like, for Jasper would undoubtedly have accessed them already.
It was possible that the old duke hadn’t gotten the chance to inform Jasper of the information’s location before his passing. But mayhap he would put it somewhere Jasper was inclined to look?
She tapped at her chin and turned in a circle, considering.
The wall of bookshelves called to her. Ifshewere to hide something, she might choose a hidden alcove on her bookshelves, or a spotwithina book itself. With the number of tomes she had amassed over the years, it was more likely that someone would give up in frustration before finding anything of use.
With a nod, she set to work.
Beginning with the oldest volumes of what she imagined Jasper might read, she methodically removed books from the shelves and shook out the pages. Dust tickled her nose as she worked, but she persisted, stacking the checked book in neat piles upon the floor.
“Christ, but it’s bright in here,” Jasper whispered from the connecting doorway.
She glanced up, her pulse leaping at the sight of him. Heavens, but he’d removed his cravat. “Duke.”
“Maria.” A smile played over his features as he neared. “For what are you searching now? Surely you don’t suppose Francis to be hiding in the books.”
“Of course not.” She clucked her tongue—decidedlynotlooking at his exposed throat and collar. “We discussed Francis’ motivation for his determined incursion, and you had mentioned the death of his sister, Miss Jean Sinclair. While the chances are slim, I was hoping to find some clarification as to what happened, and perhaps evidence to prove that you and your father had naught to do with it.”
“Ah. That is very shrewd of you. Allow me to help. What else have you yet to examine?”
Heat spread through her chest at his compliment, and she licked her suddenly dry lips. “The windows—again.”
With a nod, he turned and strode toward the windows.
Maria’s heart hiccoughed. He was so willing to accept her direction. But would it last?
She shook the thought away and resumed her task, selecting another book and searching it for hidden secrets.Nothing. She placed it on the most recent growing pile.
Twisting her lips to one side in an effort to stave off a sneeze, Maria lifted on the tips of her toes to reach an aged leather-bound book of English ballads. She flipped the pages open, and two folded pieces of parchment fell to the floor.
