Sibyl laughed incredulously, even though she didn’t find the situation funny at all. Not in the slightest. “And tell me how I am supposed to trust that when I do not know you? You imposed yourself in my home without regard for my reputation!”
“I just saved you from Heggerty’s wrath—which is known to be quite unbridled, for your information—so I think that ought to give you a clue. You were making a cake of yourself.”
“I do not need to be saved by you!” Sibyl shouted. “Not you or anybody else.”
“Another five minutes in that place—and I’m being generous—and you would have found out that you very much would have needed to be saved.”
“And why have you taken it upon yourself to play that role?” Sibyl huffed, staring him down.
The Duke merely stared back at her, his eyes narrowing as though he was not used to people defying him.
“As I said,” his voice was dangerously low, “Lord Kerrington’s debts belong to me now, and I must meet him.”
“Why?” Sibyl pressed. “Why? That is what I do not understand. Who is my husband to you?”
The Duke watched her for a few seconds before stepping back.
Air rushed into the spot he had occupied, cool and startling. Sibyl felt the warmth leech from her skin, leaving her unsteady. Shame prickled along her spine as she recognized the truth: she wanted that warmth back.
“I still believe you are lying to me, Lady Kerrington,” he said, ignoring her question. “So here is what I propose: two heads are better than one, and you need a chaperone if you insist on continuing your pointless search?—”
“Pointless,” Sibyl hissed.
“Pointless, for I believe it is all a ploy. A pretense to avoid telling me his whereabouts.”
“It is not!”
But her protests fell on deaf ears, for the Duke was already moving.
“We will search together,” he decided, his tone once again brooking no argument. “Do not try to protest.”
The words died on the tip of her tongue anyway.
Staring him down in defiance, Sibyl breathed heavily for a few seconds. Then, she nodded.
“Fine,” she relented. “But do not think you can continue bossing me around.”
“Do not defy me, and I will not have to.” He cast her a side glance, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Where else do you think your husband usually goes?”
Before Sibyl could answer, light footsteps approached. She turned to find a weary-faced waitress, nerves clear on her face as she looked between her and the Duke.
“Begging your pardon for the interruption, Sir,” the waitress began, dipping her head. “I only heard you enquire after LordKerrington. I cannot say where His Lordship is—I only serve here at the Spindle—but I may tell you one thing.”
At that, both Sibyl and the Duke moved closer, their interest piqued.
The waitress straightened, happy to have gotten their attention rather than their dismissal. “Lord Kerrington always requested that his bills be sent to a boarding house. The accountant may have the address.”
The Duke nodded. “Is the Spindle’s accountant present tonight?”
The waitress shook her head. “He only works from his office, so I cannot give you further information, but I hope it’s something. You seemed… rather distressed.”
Her eyes flicked to Sibyl, who wondered if perhaps her disguise was not as great as she had initially thought. She averted her gaze, as if it would help, but nodded her thanks.
“Mr. Heggerty’s accountant is called Mr. Farley. Thomas Farley, that is.”
The Duke nodded again, then produced another coin purse from his coat pocket. He handed it to the waitress. “Thank you for the information. And I hope you understand the importance of discretion.” He gave her a pointed look.
Curtseying, the waitress took the purse and tucked it into her apron. As she turned to leave, she hesitated before looking back at Sibyl. Her eyes lingered on Sibyl’s face, her brow pinched, making Sibyl wonder if she was not the only woman who was searching for an absent husband with secrets.
