Page 113 of The Earl She Once Saved

“I wish many things had never been placed before me. That has not made them disappear.”

Win’s mouth tightened. For several seconds she said nothing. Then she released a slow breath. “I shall not help you search.”

“I did not ask you to. I was simply going to ask whether the passage was clear.”

Win closed her eyes briefly. “That is helping.”

“It is considerably less work.”

“This is not amusing.”

“No.”

Verity crossed to the door. Win caught her wrist. The gesture was more familiar than a servant ought to have been permitted and more welcome than Verity could say.

“Do not do this from anger,” Win urged wisely.

“I am not angry.”

“Then that is worse.”

Verity looked down at the hand upon her wrist. Win released her, but neither moved away.

“I cannot wait for another Thornlow to decide what I am permitted to know.”

Win studied her face. At last, her shoulders lowered.

“Three minutes,” she said. “No more.”

Verity opened the door. Sergeant rose at once.

“No,” Win told him.

The dog walked past her.

“He goes where I go,” Verity said.

“That animal will be the ruin of both of us.”

Sergeant’s tail moved once. They left the bedchamber. The passage was dim, lit by a single lamp near the stairs. Shadows trembled along the walls as the flame shifted behind the glass. Verity heard voices from below, Ezra’s dry amusement followed by the lower murmur of Rafe’s reply.

Her heartbeat changed at the sound of him. Win heard it, too.

“They are in the library.”

“Then we have time.”

“That is what people always believe before they are discovered.”

They crossed the gallery and entered the west passage. The carpet muffled their steps. Sergeant’s claws clicked faintly wherever the runner left the floorboards bare.

At Rafe’s door, Verity stopped.

She had entered this room before, when fever rendered him too weak to object. Then every chair had been crowded with basins, cloths, and medicine. She thought only of keeping him alive. Now the brass handle felt cold beneath her palm.

“You may still change your mind,” Win whispered.

Verity opened the door. The room was empty. A low fire burned in the grate. Rafe’s coat lay across the back of a chair, with one sleeve nearly touching the floor. The air smelled of cedar, smoke and the clean soap he used. It was a spare room because he was a spare man, containing little that did not serve some purpose.