Cordelia turned to face her sister, smiling. “I think I know where we need to look for the next clue.”
Portia’s mouth dropped open. “You don’t say?” she replied, then squealed with joy, throwing her fists in the air. “That riddle was written by a Nichols and was meant to be solved by one!”
“Not so loud!” Cordelia warned, but she also wanted to whoop with joy. The past weeks at Hollyhead had been far too histrionic for her taste. More than anything, she was ready for things to go back to normal.
“Here,” she said, standing up from the dressing table and walking over to her bed. Reaching under her pillow, Cordelia produced the sheaf of papers that she’d nicked from the book last night. She handed them to Portia.
“What are you on about?” her sister asked, drawing her eyebrows together as she leafed through the pages. “There’s nothing on these.”
“Not now,” Cordelia began, but there was another sharp knock at the door.
“I’m in the middle of getting dressed,” she called out.
“The duke would like to see you, my lady.” Mrs. Norris sounded urgent through the door.
Cordelia sighed heavily. “I’d best not keep him waiting,” she said. “I’ll explain when I come back.”
Portia rolled her eyes and sat on the bed. “It doesn’t look like there’s anything to tell,” she complained.
“I won’t be more than ten minutes,” Cordelia said as she opened the door. “Thank you, Mrs. Norris,” she said, nodding to the older woman, who eyed her carefully.
“His Grace seems to be in an awful state today,” she mentioned as Cordelia closed the door behind her and started down the hall.
“How do you mean?”
Mrs. Norris seemed to be choosing her words carefully. “Well, a letter arrived this morning and then Mr. Peverill left quite quickly, said he was heading to London. God knows on what sort of business, but I don’t think it can be any good.”
Cordelia made sure her lips did not betray her as Mrs. Norris told her the news. With Peverill gone and Justin having to put more distance between them, it left them able to search the grounds unencumbered. Perhaps this would all be over sooner than she anticipated.
“Do you think the two of them had a falling out?” Cordelia asked.
“Oh, I have no idea, my lady.” Mrs. Norris was not particularly good at gossip, which in some ways made her an excellent chatelaine, and quite tiresome in others.
“No problem. I am sure it will all be sorted out soon,” she said as they reached the door to the duke’s office.
Mrs. Norris looked uneasy, but she nodded her head in assent. “I’ll be just out here,” she said.
Cordelia knocked on the red door.
“Come in!”
The duke’s voice did not sound particularly annoyed or strained. When she entered the office, she could scarcely see him behind multiple stacks of papers that were piled precariously on his desk; several rocks were strewn across the papers, along with vials of what looked to be soil.
“Goodness!” she exclaimed.
“Quite,” he replied, standing up. “I’m currently sorting through the late duke’s accounts. I’ve had word this morning that the family that is currently inhabiting the small cottage is willing to pay rent on the place. I’ve had my solicitor sell off chunks of land there as well. Hardly enough to cover everything, but it will keep our fingers in the dam for the time being.”
Cordelia was nearly rendered speechless. Justin looked as though he had been at work the entire evening. His shirt was rumpled, his cravat loosened, and wisps of dark hair were falling over his brow. He had never looked so handsome.
“That’s… well, you’ve accomplished so much since you’ve arrived,” Cordelia choked out.
“I hardly understand how your circle makes plans to go shooting, much less take time for tea,” he said, his mouth in a hard line. “It’s clear that sorting this endeavor will take longer than expected. You know my secretary is coming from London, but I have also written to my employers. I’ll be taking a leave of absence from my firm.”
“So, you will be at Hollyhead past the ball?” Cordelia asked, trying to stuff down the small flutter of hope she felt in her chest.
“It appears so. God willing, the whole damn place will sell by autumn.”
The words sliced through her as he spoke them. Any sentiment she might have felt fled after that.
