Page 2 of A Deal for the Duke’s Virgin

Even as he spoke, Christian knew that he was wasting his time. His mother would fret, he was sure of it. And so would he, as a matter of fact.

What is she thinking? he thought grimly, climbing the stairs. His mother clattered along behind him. Where has she gone? And why?

He was careful to keep those questions to himself.

Their footsteps echoed through the cavernous rooms of Thornhill Abbey with its high ceilings and endless drafts. There was a chill in the place that no amount of roaring fires could ward off.

Like most old abbeys, there was a resident ghost. Christian wasn’t entirely sure of the story—no doubt some woman wearing a wedding dress, roaming the halls and wailing. Or perhaps a headless horseman. He was sure he had terrified poor Laura until she could not sleep that night with a story about a headless horseman.

A pang of nostalgia shot through him, but he manfully fought through it. Anxiety and regret would not help him find his sister.

He reached the white-painted door that led to her room and pushed it open.

Carnage waited inside.

“Good God,” he breathed. “Don’t the maids tidy in here?”

“They do,” Celestia responded mournfully, leaning against the doorframe. “But Laura is so very untidy. No sooner have the poor servants returned order to the room than she arrives like a whirlwind.”

“Whirlwind, indeed,” he murmured, stepping carefully into the room and over a pair of discarded slippers.

Several drawers hung open, with pieces of clothing spilling out. A dress lay piled on the floor, and another two were crumpled on the bed. He could only assume that Laura had tried on several outfits and found herself displeased with them all.

“Have you any idea of where she might have gone? Some suitor, perhaps?”

“Suitor? Not that I know of. You know Laura.”

Christian paused, placing his hands on his hips.

“Father never let her change this room, did he?” he murmured.

He sensed, rather than saw, his mother stiffen.

“No. You know how your father abhorred change.”

“Well, that is not quite true,” he snorted. “He made changes all the time. He simply didn’t like the rest of us changing things.”

Celestia didn’t bother to argue.

“Since you have returned, Laura has made some changes to her room. She put on new wallpaper, you see, and those pictures are new.”

She gestured to a trio of pretty little flower paintings hanging above Laura’s bed. Absently, Christian reached out to touch one. It shivered, threatening to fall, and a white thing fell out from behind it.

He blinked. “Is that a letter? I thought Laura attended to her correspondence at the writing desk in the library downstairs.”

“She does. And I haven’t the faintest idea of what that might be.”

Christian retrieved the white thing, which was indeed a slip of paper. Further investigation revealed some more pieces behind each picture.

Celestia inched behind him, peering over his shoulder. He set the papers on the bed and stood back, hands on his hips.

“I believe that’s German,” he murmured. “Why on earth does my sister have secret messages in German?”

“Well, we don’t know that they are secret messages.”

“Don’t we? Then why did she keep them hidden up here and not down in the library with the rest of her correspondence? And why German?”

“Well, Laura has always had a real knack for German.”