Before he could sit, a knock sounded, startling us both. He turned, brushing one of the top folders off his pile.
“So sorry, Your Grace,” the footman said. “Did you still wish for tea?” Xander turned to me, seeking a response. I shrugged, entirely without preference. It was unlikely to taste less like ash than anything else had for having been in her company for nearly half an hour.
“No, thank you.” The footman nodded and scurried off back to trunks or sheets or whatever else was needed.
Xander bent down to gather the scattered contents of the folder. He flipped through them, his brow furrowed. “These must be yours, Will. They’re not mine.” He handed them over.
“I didn’t bring a...” Suddenly, I recalled Celine setting the folder on the stack before signing documents. She had grabbed the wrong one.
I took the file from Xander and flipped it open and there, right on top, was an old banknote. Made out to Gabriel Hasket, Marquess of Rycliffe.
From Mr. Wesley Parker.
Damn.
Thirty-Eight
WILLIAM’S APARTMENT, LONDON - JUNE 28, 1816
WILLIAM
I left as soonas it was feasible after Xander signed the documents. The entire process was a blur as was the walk back to the office, Celine’s file clenched tightly in my grasp.
I slipped into the office quietly. Everyone was industriously occupied as usual. And as had become standard, Bates’s chair was empty. I glanced to my office. The door was mostly closed.
With a sigh, I handed Xander’s signed documents to Matthews for filing. Celine’s folder was still pinched tightly between my fingers.
I stalked silently to my office and peered in the gap of the open door. There was my missing clerk, crouched behind my desk trying unsuccessfully to work a letter opener into the locked drawer.
I pushed the door open forcefully so it banged against the wall. From the other side I heard an irritated “Oi!” from Kit. Of more interest to me was Bates spinning around toward me and shoving his hands behind his back in the flurry.
“Oh, sir. I didn’t realize you had returned, and I was checking to see if there were documents that needed to be filed.”
“And you needed to break into my desk to do that?”
“No! I-I beg your pardon?”
“Which is it?”
“What?”
“Are you denying the accusation or are you confused as to the nature of it?”
“Both?”
“Get out.” He shuffled past me, trying to press himself to the wall to get as far from me as possible while still escaping through the door. He started for his empty desk before I interrupted. “Out!”
“Sir?”
“Your employment is terminated—without severance and without a reference. Get out.”
“But…”
Kit, finally sensing something amiss, popped his head out. “Will? I thought we discussed?—”
“Caught him going at my desk with a letter opener.”
He froze for a moment before turning to Bates. “Right, you heard the man. Gather your coat.”
