“You cannot.” Grace’s expression turned to one of alarm. “No one saw you come in looking like this, did they? None of the others?”
Lanora shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Let’s pray not.” Grace pivoted and hurried from the room.
Lanora organized her thoughts while Grace worked in the adjoining room, readying a tub. Lanora could hear other members of the staff come and go, some asking after her health in soft tones. Grace’s relief sounded real when she told them Lanora would be well soon. Lanora hadn’t meant to distress Grace so, and for what? Though she’d told Grace she’d learned a lot, what had she really learned? One thing, at least, that was important. The attorney Mr. Darington used, the one her father hadn’t wished to employ, had stolen the funds for the women’s home. There was no other way to put it. He’d appropriated them and then lost them, somehow.
She’d found no written evidence of that, however. No records of Darington at the attorney’s, at all. There was one more place to look, though. A strongbox hidden in the wall, behind a painting hung over the mantel. Lanora suspected Lethbridge had selected the dullest landscape he could find so the painting would garner little attention. The strongbox behind it was the only part of the office that had resisted her search, for search she had. She’d plenty of time, after all, locked in for hours.
She knew she could get into the strongbox if she brought her lock pics. She was quite skilled at picking locks, for all she hadn’t been able to fashion the right tools by bending her hairpins. She used to practice the skill for hours. In her child’s mind, Egyptian treasure was sealed in chests, like pirate gold, and once she’d convinced her father to take her with him on his expeditions, she would have shown him her talent. That childish fancy would serve her well now. If she was going to bring Lethbridge to justice and see the home for women finished, she would need to go back and look in that strongbox.
Lanora rose and slowly began to undress. Grace was correct, her garments were uncommonly wrinkled. Lanora was sure Grace would wash them herself. It wouldn’t do for the others to suspect that Lanora had done anything compromising, for even loyal servants gossiped. Lanora paused. What could Lord William possibly have been doing in Lethbridge’s office in the middle of the night? She’d heard him at the door. She would wager her father’s fortune he’d picked the lock. Had he learned that skill in Egypt? To her dismay, her father assured her Egyptians used much more elaborate mechanisms.
Howdidn’t matter as much aswhy, though. Why was Lord William there? What was he looking for at the attorney’s? Perhaps the list? Although she had no idea why he might worry it would be circulated, it was certainly incriminating. He could have gone there to secure it. She wished he’d done so before she set eyes on it.
Lanora stop undressing, then crossed to the fire and stirred it up to ward off the chill in her room. No, she didn’t wish he’d hidden the list. It was good she’d seen it. She couldn’t live in a dream world, because one always woke up. Better the pain in her heart now than waking up to find herself married to Lord William, while he spent Lanora’s fortune on his mistress.
She frowned, tugging free her laces. It was all so odd, though. Lethbridge having Lord William followed. His mysterious mistress no one ever saw. His claims that his father was making him marry. His father making him pretend to be someone he was not, a cold, cruel, ruthless, cad of a man. Could she believe any of it?
Well, she believed the part about being ordered to marry. That explained how she’d become mixed up in Lord William’s life. Watched her from afar, indeed. How had she ever considered believing that?
Lanora let out a sigh, stepping from the ring of clothing at her feet. She’d started to believe it because she wished to. He was handsome. Warm. So convincing. It would be terribly nice to have a man like the one he pretended to be love her as he pretended to love her.
She blinked, recalling what else she’d overheard. Pretend love. Was that a weapon of all men? She doubly needed to return to Mr. Lethbridge’s office. She had to learn who this poor girl was he would soon be guardian to. Lanora would not let Mr. Lethbridge seduce or coerce some young woman into marrying him.
Once the other staff left, she would tell Grace all she’d learned that evening. Even Grace must agree there were worthy reasons for returning to Mr. Lethbridge’s office to search. And if Grace didn’t agree, well, Lanora would have to be sneaky.
