If Pandora had been affected, she showed no sign, leading the way through the hallways with focused intent. They rounded a corner into another corridor, and, as they approached the end, voices could be heard coming from the intersecting hallway. Pandora pressed against the wall, and Thea immediately did the same, waiting with bated breath until a pair of maids passed. Once the servants disappeared, the marchioness turned right, and moments later she and Thea arrived at a set of double doors.
Pandora tried the door—locked.
“Keep watch,” she murmured, removing a length of wire from her reticule.
Nerves prickling, Thea did so as the other worked on the lock. A minute later, there was a click, the soft sweep of the door giving way. Pandora went inside first, and Thea followed, closing the door with damp palms.
With the curtains drawn, Davenport’s study was dim and cavernous. It seemed ordinary enough with its dark wood and leather furnishings, the book-lined shelves. The large portrait over the fireplace dominated the room. It depicted Lady Davenport sitting beneath an oak tree in a gown of frothy lace, her hat dripping with plumes. Thea presumed that the man in the painting—the one Lady Davenport gazed up at such with wifely adoration—was Lord Davenport. The viscount was a distinguished-looking man in his forties, with slight greying at the temples and a tall, fit figure.
Yet there was something disturbing about his eyes, which met the viewer’s straight on. That pale gaze seemed so penetrating and life-like that Thea had the sudden panic that she was being watched. A shiver chased over her nape.
“We don’t have much time.” Pandora’s urgent tones broke the spell. “Both of us will have to search. You start with the desk. Try not to disturb anything.”
With a quick nod, Thea padded over to the desk, its surface neatly organized with a silver tray of writing instruments and a thick leather blotter. With trembling hands, she pulled open the top drawer and carefully rifled through the contents. Nothing remotely suspicious. She continued onto the two other drawers. Still nothing, not even a hidden compartment.
If I were Davenport and had something to hide, where would I put it?As she mulled, she drummed her fingers against the desk… and awareness prickled over her at the faint hollow vibration. The resonance was similar to the sound she made when tapping against the lid of a pianoforte. Crouching, she placed her ear close to the top of the desk, repeating the rhythm of her fingers, and she heard it again—a muffled echo coming from within.There’s an empty chamber inside.Heart thumping, she ran her hands under the ledge of the desk, her fingers encountering a hidden button. She pressed it, and the entire blotter slid to the side, revealing a hidden cache.
Excitement rushed up her spine at the sight of papers.
“Pandora,” she called softly.
The marchioness arrived just as Thea lifted out the top document for inspection. Written in a bold hand, the string of words was strange and nonsensical. She heard the other’s sharp indrawn breath.
“Spectre,” Pandora whispered.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Thea and Pandora returned just as the ladies were beginning to file out of the ballroom.
Emma hurried toward them. “Find anything?” she whispered.
Thea nodded, barely able to suppress her excitement.
Em huffed out a breath. “Thank heavens. Let’s get out of here. Because if I have to listen to one minute more of this patronizing claptrap, I swear I’ll—”
“La, there you are!” The voice rang shrilly from behind her. “Oh, Duchess!”
Em froze like a hunted deer.
Lady Davenport hurried over. “We’re just about to begin sewing the fichus. You shall have the seat of honor in my circle, Your Grace.”
“That sounds lovely, but I’m, um, getting rather tired—”
“I shall call for caviar and champagne to keep our energies up. I won’t take no for an answer.” The viscountess’ hand wrapped like ivy around Emma’s arm. “You wouldn’t want to let down a good cause, would you?”
“No,” Em said, looking desperate, “but truly I have to go—”
Thea let out a gasping breath, grabbing her sister’s free arm.
“What is the matter, Miss Kent?” Lady Davenport said, looking alarmed.
“I… I c-can’t… breathe.”
Emma’s brown eyes rounded with worry, her arm going instantly around Thea’s waist. “Breathe deeply, dear. In and out. Just as Dr. Abernathy taught you.”
Seeing Lady Davenport take a step back, Thea wheezed, “Yes, stay back. It might be catching.”
Instantly, the hostess retreated farther. “Er, can I have anything fetched for you?”
