He got up and picked up a book and a candle. He put a chair by the adjoining door and sat down, listening keenly for any movement on the other side.
He heard nothing, not so much as a rustling of bedclothes. With a sigh, he directed his attention to his book, hoping to grow tired enough to sleep.
The candle burned right down to its stub before his eyes grew too tired to read.
The sky was lightening; dawn wasn’t very far. He decided to change into his riding clothes and take a ride around his property. The bracing air would wake him up properly, so he could function the rest of the day.
As he rode, the wind on his face, his hair flying behind him, he tried to enjoy the morning. But a heaviness in his chest would not leave him. He did not understand it.
As he cantered down the road, he caught sight of a hooded man, riding towards him. He stopped, hand on his sword, waiting to see if it was a brigand.
“Well-met, old friend. You’ve saved me a journey.” Benedict called from beneath the hood, and Silas relaxed.
“How so?” he asked.
“I come bearing news. There’s a wagon leaving tonight. If we are to catch it, we need to leave now.”
Silas nodded. “I’m ready to go.”
“Where’s His Grace?” Helena went into the kitchens to speak with Jeeves.
He stood up quickly from behind his desk and stood straight. “Your Grace.” He gave a bow. “He left early this morning on foot, ma’am. He has not been back.”
She frowned. “Is that usual for him, or should we be worried?”
Jeeves seemed to hesitate. “Well, Your Grace, sometimes he is called away suddenly. I cannot say…”
Helena nodded. “But, wouldn’t he say so? What about Amelia? Wouldn’t she worry?”
Again, Jeeves seemed reluctant to answer. “I… believe she is used to his comings and goings, Your Grace.”
“Humph!” Helena said irritably, crossing her arms. “How rude.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Jeeves said.
With a huff, Helena left the room and went in search of Amelia. “Does your brother just disappear without a word like this?” she asked without preamble.
Amelia looked up from the book she was reading. “Silas? Well, not usually, but sometimes.”
“So how does he expect us to know if he’s in trouble, or has just gone off gallivanting?”
Amelia smiled up at her. “You’re worried about him.”
Helena glared. “Aren’t you? Anything could have happened to him.”
“Well, I suppose I would be now if he hadn’t sent this note.” She put her hand between the book’s pages and extracted a piece of monogrammed paper.
Helena took the note and opened it, noting that it was written under Lord Richmont’s crest and not Silas’.
Dear Amelia,
Benedict and I have received a message we need to follow up on. Do not expect me home tonight.
Silas.
Beneath his signature was a waxed seal of his ring.
“Who brought the note?”
