Snick. The lock slid open, and she burst through the door into her familiar space. The door opened onto their large sitting room furnished with overstuffed armchairs, a settee, and a chaise, all upholstered in rich purples and blues. A fireplace was set into the wall on the left side of the room, while the entire back wall was covered with custom-built bookshelves that wrapped around their tall windows. The door nearest the fireplace led to the kitchens, and on the right wall sat her writing desk, a piano, and the corridor that led to their bedchambers.
Pride swelled in her chest—as it did every time she entered her home—even while urgency flooded her.
“Thomas,” she breathed.
“Maria!” Thomas Roberts rose from his armchair by the fire and set his book aside. “You’re home earlier than I’d expected.”
“The news has not yet broken, brother.” Maria locked the door and rushed through the sitting room to her bedchamber. “Francis Sinclair did not appear at his execution.”
“No?” he called through her slightly opened door. “Blimey. What does this mean”—he paused to release a throaty grunt—“for the duke and Juliana? And for you?”
Maria laid the walking dress that she’d worn that morning upon her never-used bed, then swiftly unfastened her waistcoat buttons and cravat. “I imagine that the duke’s cousin will seek revenge.”
Grunt, click. Another of Thomas’ habitual spasms echoed down the short corridor. The spasms were as much a part of him as the colour of his eyes. But far too many people couldn’t see past his uncontrollable sounds and movements and recognize the kindest, dearest man in London.
“You’d best act fast,” he said. “Francis must be brought back before the magistrate and—grunt—pay for his crimes.” He paused, and there was a muffledthumpbefore he continued. “The duke, Juliana, and her new family must be protected. And no doubtyouwill be a target now, as well.”
“In that you’re correct.” She stepped into her frock and slid her arms through the sleeves. “But I daresay we’ve bested the man before, and we can do so again.”
Grunt.
“Please lace me?”
He strode into the bright lilac-and-white bedchamber, his face in a contorted grimace.
Maria laughed softly as she reached to smooth the hair over his furrowed brow. His spasms came more frequently when he was under stress. “How was your day?”
Grunt, grunt. “Well enough.”
He rounded behind her and tugged at the laces of her stays.
“Did Mrs. Fredrickson—dear me, not so tight, please!—come to prepare meals?”
Thomas sighed. “Yes—click—she did.”
“And the maid? Did she?—”
“For pity’s sake, Maria,” he groaned, moving his attention to her walking dress. “You’re less than a year younger than me and yet you flutter about—grunt, grunt—l-like—” He huffed in agitation as he struggled to get the words out. “You needn’t—grunt, click—worry about me.”
“It isn’t worry; it is love,” Maria assured him.
He groaned again, and fastened the last hook on her frock. “Are you intentionally trying to guilt me, sister?”
Maria spun to face him with a small laugh. “I am doing whatever you wish for me to be doing.” She pressed a light kiss to his whiskered cheek. “Thank you.”
“What would you do if I was not here to attend you while you changed personae?”
In her early days of embracing the side of her that wasMr. Duncan Robertson, she’d discreetly paid a courtesan to aid her, but that had not lasted long. Almost immediately after securing work and a home forDuncan, she had posed as a distant relative of Thomas’ and removed him from Bedlam. They had been so close as children; it had nearly broken her when their parents sent him away.
A wave of sorrow swept through her, but she disguised it with a smirk.
She moved to her dressing table and removed the tie for her queue. “I would scandalize the general populace by walking about half-dressed, for certain.”
Making swift work of her brushing, Maria hastily knotted her hair at the base of her head and began applying pins.
“Ah.” Thomas caught her gaze in the mirror while he thumbed her missive. “You’ve received—grunt, click—word from your piratical friend.”
Her grey eyes lit with anticipation. “I have. Right now, however, there is a more pressing matter at hand.”
