“Oh, this all sounds thrilling,” Aunt Jean jumped in, rubbing her hands together. “I came as soon as I got word that there was trouble. Simon, you should have brought me with you.”
Simon shot his aunt an amused look. “I think it was better for you to stay somewhere where it was safe.”
“Oh, but that is no fun.” Aunt Jean shook her head. “Grace Langston always rubbed me the wrong way if I am being honest. I would have paid to see the look on her face.”
“It was worth seeing, I’ll admit,” Rachel agreed. It felt like a huge load had been lifted off her chest.
“We will not hear from Grace Langston for a long time now,” Simon observed. “She is held in the magistrate’s quarters for now, but she will be shifted to a prison in the countryside soon enough.”
“And what about—” Aunt Jean gestured towards the gate where the constables had dragged away the gardener just moments ago. “— him?”
“The traitor?” Simon replied. “He will be dealt with and punished accordingly.”
The conversation was interrupted by a man’s voice coming from inside the house.
It was Rowan. He looked rather disheveled, his chest was bare, and he was holding the torn-up remains of Rachel’s dress in one hand.
“What happened to you?” Marina gasped.
“Your sister’s wardrobe,” Rowan said flatly, glancing toward Rachel with mock reproach, “is a battlefield.”
“Why were you in her—” Aunt Jean’s furrowed his brow.
“All in the name of justice,” Rowan interrupted smoothly.
“It was your idea that you could pass for me,” Rachel grinned as she looked over at Simon. He didn’t say anything but looked amused.
”I swear, it should be a crime for women to dress like this. I couldn’t breathe for more than half the day. Who invented this, and why haven’t we burned them yet?”
Rachel laughed, but before she could respond, Simon stepped beside her and placed a hand over her eyes gently.
“She’s seen enough of your nonsense for one day,” he said dryly.
“Oh please,” Rowan shot back, “after what she’s just done, I’d say your duchess can handle a little indecency.”
“Yes, well, we would all be more comfortable if you put something on,” Marina replied, already averting her gaze and thrusting a folded shirt at him without looking.
“Ah, my savior,” Rowan said, slipping into the garment quickly but not before flashing Marina a grin. “Where have you been all of my life?”
Marina blushed furiously, looking away.
Aunt Jean cleared her throat. “Now that you’ve clothed yourself, perhaps you’d care to tell us what exactly happened here?”
Rowan rolled his shoulders. Despite the chaos of the last few days, he seemed to be in great spirits.
“Simple,” he said. “We swapped right after breakfast. Rachel put on one of my coats and disappeared through the back with Simon while I put on one of her gowns.”
“It was one of my old ones,” Rachel added. “The sleeves barely fit him.”
“I’ll never forgive the sleeves,” Rowan muttered.
“And the goal was to make sure the staff saw me,” Rachel continued, glancing toward Jean. “That way, if someone was watching the estate, they’d believe I never left.”
Rowan nodded.
”Exactly. I stayed by the window in her chambers and made sure to look out now and then, contemplating—whatever it is you do all day.”
“Mostly I just breathe and avoid murder.” Rachel gave him a flat look.
