“Enough to do something foolish, Simons?”
He moved to the sideboard and rearranged the placement of her bonnet and gloves. A few moments later, he gave a half shrug, a curiously self-deprecating gesture. “His Grace is what he is, Lady Sarah, but I have been with him for more than a decade.”
She remained silent, waiting.
“In all that time, Lady Sarah, he has done good deeds, and those which I regretted.”
He looked up at the ceiling.
“I very much fear that this deed shall be ranked among those I regret.”
She folded her hands in front of her and faced Simons, willing her expression to reveal nothing of what she felt.
“Is my husband here, Simons?”
The majordomo looked down at the intricate marble flooring. “He is, Lady Sarah.”
“Of his own volition, Simons?”
He took a deep breath, exhaled it. “No, Lady Sarah.”
She reached out and gripped his jacketed arm with her bare hand, the very first time she could ever remember touching the man.
“Can you release him, Simons?”
“It would mean my position, Lady Sarah.”
She nodded. “I know. But there are other places that need you, Simons,” she said. “Chavensworth, for one.”
“I doubt His Grace would allow me to be employed at Chavensworth, Lady Sarah,” Simons said with a small smile.
He was right. Chavensworth would not be a haven for Simons.
“Then I shall have to convince the duke to release him myself,” she said. “Is His Grace at home?”
“Yes, Lady Sarah, but I believe he’s dressing for his entertainments this evening.”
“Tell him that I’m here, Simons,” she said. Would her appearance change his plans?
She walked down the hallway to the duke’s study. Several weeks had passed since she’d been here. Weeks in which she’d been married, buried her mother, discovered family in Scotland, and surprisingly, and delightfully, found love.
And all this had happened in a matter of weeks.
She took one of the high-backed chairs in front of the fireplace. How odd that she’d never been invited to sit here, but always stood like a penitent before her father’s desk.
As she sat and waited, it occurred to her that Douglas’s freedom could be accomplished effortlessly. After all, there was no need for brute force, when she, herself, held the perfect weapon.
Sarah began to smile.
“They only hire me to clean up!” the young man said, his voice choked for the simple reason that Alano had him up against the side of a stall, his hands around the younger man’s throat. The horse inside was spooked by the two men, his eyes almost as wide as the stableboy’s. “I only work in the stables. I don’t know anything about what goes on in there.” His frantic eyes darted toward the town house.
“Have there always been two carriages here?” Alano asked calmly.
The boy shook his head. “The other one was here one morning when I came in. Never saw it before.” The hand that had held the pitchfork, now tossed several feet away, shakily pointed to the bay where the carriage rested.
“And the driver?”
If anything, the young man’s eyes bulged out even more. Alano released his grip somewhat.
