Page 33 of The Darkness Within Us

“Thank you,” I say. “Do keep me posted on anything else of note that happens, especially any more disappearances.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Tekla says.

“Once I have money again, I promise to tip you both.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Karla says. “A chat between friends doesn’t warrant an exchange of money.”

She’s too kind, but I will be paying them for their service once I have the means to do so.

Which requires more spying.

I try to get a sense of Eryx’s schedule in the following weeks, but he never sticks to one. He never goes for walks at the same time nor reads at the same time nor goes over the accounts at the same time. It’s as if he’s trying to make it difficult for someone like me who wishes to snoop through his things.

But my chance finally comes one day when Vander visits the estate.He, the duke, and the two valets, Argus and Dyson, enter the study, Vander shooting me hateful looks all the while. I pretend not to notice.

“Is my presence needed?” I ask before Eryx shuts the door.

“Definitely not.”

“Shall I send for tea?”

“Go away, Duchess.” He slams the door, and I hear him grumble, “Damnable woman,” on the other side.

I walk away purposefully, then slip off my shoes and tread back toward the door. I even try holding my breath, since Eryx somehow managed to hear it last time. To be fair, I was incensed and breathing heavily then, so perhaps I’m being overcautious.

“I’m all but ruined!” Vander shrieks. “That girl wrote to her father about us. Lord Masis has been visiting my offices constantly. He’s even convinced all his associates not to use me since I now neglect to time-stamp my documents and send assistants to do jobs better carried out by myself.”

“Quiet down, Vander,” Eryx says. “It will be all right.”

“I have no clients left. They’ve all run to my competitors to do their business!”

“I will take care of it,” Eryx assures him.

I can’t hold my breath any longer, so I tiptoe back toward where I left my shoes and slip them on as I breathe once more.

With a grin, I glide toward the master suite, prepared for some snooping.

Whether or not the servants are on my side, I decide it’s best not to be seen entering the duke’s rooms. I’d hate to imagine the conclusions drawn before I could refute them. The thought makes me want to gag. Instead, I enter the duchess suite before approaching the door joining our rooms together. Naturally it’s locked, but I have a skeleton key that works on every door in the house. It was, after all, mine until Eryx cast his toxic shadow over the place.

The room is… wholly unchanged. Just as beautiful and perfect as I left it, save my bed, vanity, and other furniture, which are now in my current room instead of this one. The more masculine furniture that used to be in the duchess suite has taken its place.

And yet, the place looks lifeless, for Eryx has made no personal touches. On the one hand, I’m relieved to have the room unmolested, but on the other, it’s really quite sad. Two pairs of trousers. Most gentlemen would faint at the thought.

I go to the cedar chest I missed the last time I perused the room. It bears no lock, and when I peer inside, I find a beat-up canteen, a torn red scarf, a well-worn book titledThe Adventures of Voleta Mavros, and a handful of medals bearing Eryx’s name.

Well, it appears he was at least telling the truth about being in the army. I read the inscriptions on the round brass pendants.For Fervor. For Bravery. For Cunning.

I know next to nothing about the army and the different honors awarded to the fighting men and women, but these would seem impressive—

If Eryx hadn’t been awarded them. I wonder if they’re like children’s tokens given out at parties. Everyone receives one.

As I stand, I realize there were no clothes in the chest. Only personal items. I try the wardrobe, but it hasn’t been filled since I last checked. The washroom is completely empty. No soaps or hairbrush or shaving cream, though Eryx is always well-shaved. Or perhaps he cannot grow hair on his chin? Oh, I shall have to prod at him about that one.

I examine the comforter on the bed. It still smells of laundry soap. Not a hint of male on it. I can only come to one conclusion.

The duke is not staying here. He made such a fuss over having the master suite, and yet, he does not sleep here. He doesn’t even keep his things here, except for one chest.

Well, that poses two new questions.

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