“Was he old?”
“No. Young, I’d wager. The limp seemed new. Maybe from an accident.”
“Did he speak like a common man?”
Knave shook his head. “No, Your Grace. He was polished. Well-bred. Had the bearing of a peer.”
Theo stilled.A peer.So now I must hunt one of them. It is harder to bring such men to justice.
This new information wasn’t much, but it was something. A nobleman with a limp. That alone narrowed the field. Slightly.
“What were you caught for?” Theo asked.
“Smuggling. Ambergris. Spices. Nothing too grand but enough to warrant interest of the Runners.”
Theo gave a brief nod and exited the chamber. Outside, he met the officer once more.
“I have finished with him.”
“Any progress, Your Grace?”
“Not enough, but it is something. A thread I intend to follow.”
“We will continue questioning those we detain. Linwood will surface, eventually.”
I hope so.Theo nodded. “Thank you.”
As he mounted his horse and rode toward Westminster, the image of April kneeling beside him that morning returned.
She looked at me as though I were something precious.
He smiled then, and the unfamiliar gesture that caught him by surprise. He lifted a hand and touched the corner of his mouth as if to confirm it was real.
What is she doing to me?
April Roth, Duchess of Stone, was changing him. And he wasn’t sure whether to brace himself or let it happen.
April stood in the music room, surveying the last of the blue brocade drapes being installed, when Redmond stepped inside and bowed. “Your Grace, Mr. Gregory Roth and his family have arrived.”
Her brows furrowed. “Gregory Roth?”
“His Grace’s cousin, Madam.”
April straightened slowly, her mind turning. She had heard not one word of this cousin, not even a passing mention. “I see. And they are… staying at the manor?”
Redmond inclined his head solemnly. “It would appear so.”
His cousin? And not a word of warning?
Mutely, she followed the butler out, her steps brisk. In the foyer, footmen were already carrying boxes up the stairs. She caught sight of a maid juggling a child’s satchel and what looked like a hobby horse. Her brows drew together.
“They could have sent word,” she murmured.
One might expect a duchess to prepare properly for houseguests.
She stepped into the drawing room and found chaos.
Two boys were racing about, one of them narrowly missing a small table. A tall man stood and turned toward her with a broad smile. He bowed. “You must be the Duchess of Stone. Gregory Roth, at your service.”
