Rachel frowned. “Surely the staff goes up there from time to time. It must need tending to like the rest of the house.”
Agnes shook her head, avoiding Rachel’s gaze. “His Grace gave strict orders that no one was ever to enter the attic. He’s the only one allowed.”
“But why? What could be so important that even the staff is forbidden?” It was more of a question to herself than to Agnes.
“I couldn’t say,” Agnes replied, carefully. “None of us has ever been up there. His Grace… well, he has his reasons, I’m sure.”
Rachel studied the maid, noting the tension in her shoulders and the way she avoided meeting her eyes. There was more to this than Agnes was letting on, but Rachel knew better than to press her further. Whatever was in the attic, it was clear the staff had been sworn to silence.
Or that they did not know themselves, which would make the situation all the more strange.
“There is one thing I can tell you,” Agnes spoke again, though her voice was now a hushed whisper, “but I am not sure if it is really my place?—”
“Please, I would like to know,” Rachel pressed.
“Well,” Agnes started, looking around her as though she was scared that someone might hear. “I have noticed that… whenever His Grace does go up there, he seems to return angrier than before.”
“Angrier?” Rachel asked.Why? That made little sense.
“It is just what I have observed,” the maid noted.
Rachel paused for a moment, wondering if she should press for more questions, but then she realized that this was likely the only information that the maid had, so it was best to dismiss her.
“Thank you, Agnes,” Rachel said finally, forcing a smile. “It is late. I shall leave you now. Good night.”
What could he possibly keep there? And why was he so insistent that no one—not even his wife—was allowed to enter?
Maybe I could see for myself.
She lingered around the entrance, wondering if she was willing to break the duke’s rules. But before she could make any decision, she was interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps echoing down the hall.
She turned sharply to see Simon striding towards her. When he noticed her standing there, he hastened his pace.
“Whatare you doing here? I have told you the attic is off limits,” he said, anger dripping from his voice.
“I was just—” she paused, glancing at the attic door before returning her gaze to him. “I was curious.”
Best not to lie when she had been caught like this.
Simon’s lips thinned, his eyes narrowing.
“Curiosity—if left unchecked—can be a very dangerous thing, Duchess,” he said. “Haven’t I made myself clear about the attic?”
Rachel bristled at his tone. “You’ve made plenty of things clear, Simon. But what you haven’t done is explain. How am I supposed to abide by your rules when you won’t even tell me why they exist?”
He stepped closer. “We have gone over this conversation. It seems that the lack of sleep has eroded your memory,” he remarked snarkily. “It would be best for you to go to sleep, Duchess. And not poke your nose into matters that do not concern you.”
With that, he simply left her standing there, flaring with anger and confusion, not to mention frustration.
And then, something more.
One thing was for certain. Whatever it was in that attic could make him angrier than she had ever seen him. So one could safely surmise that whatever was in there was a secret due to its importance.
A secret that her husband was keeping from her. She had always thought that there were to be no secrets between a husband and a wife, but her own experience was shaping up to be different.
And it could only make her wonder, were there more secrets? Even as she tried to find out everything she could about her husband, he was ultimately the only one who could give her the truth that she required.
CHAPTER NINE
