Page 39 of Three Rules to Wed a Duke

Suddenly, a brief encounter from the day before returned to her mind.

Frances had been walking on the first floor, looking for Sara to get her help with some of her sewing. As she turned the corner of one hallway, she spied Miss O’Reilly going about her work. Her arms were laden with folded piles of fresh linens and bedclothes.

“Miss O’Reilly! Here, let me help you with all of those,” Frances had offered, darting forward to take some of the load from her.

“It’s quite all right, Your Grace. I can manage it myself,” the nurse had replied, her tone firm but polite.

“Don’t be silly, I don’t mind at all. We wouldn’t want you to stumble if you cannot see where you’re going,” she had said, taking several of the articles from the top of her pile.

Frances had arranged the articles in her arms and smiled at Miss O’Reilly, but the nurse had not returned her cheerful demeanor. With a pinched expression, she’d begun walking down the hall once more, leaving Frances to follow after her.

It hadn’t taken long before Frances realized where they’d been going: to the heavy door leading to the part of the house that was locked away. As she’d watched, Miss O’Reilly had shiftedher items to one arm and lifted a small key that hung from her chatelaine. With a dull, thudding echo, the weighty bolt had turned in the lock and the door had fallen open on its hinges. The nurse had quickly stopped it with her foot and turned to face Frances.

“Thank you for your help,” she’d said in a hollow voice. “I shall take the items from here.”

“I really don’t mind helping, you know,” Frances had protested weakly, but Miss O’Reilly had been unmoving. She’d only stared, unspeaking, until Frances had begun to feel guilty for intruding.

“There you are, Your Grace,” Mrs. Barrett had suddenly called out, emerging from some room nearby. “The stairs in that part of the house are not sturdy. We cannot have you falling! I’ll help Miss O’Reilly.”

The housekeeper had swooped in and taken the linens from Frances, then nodded to the nurse to proceed. No sooner had the door to the stairs closed behind them, leaving Frances to stand there like a useless dolt, than the lock had sounded once more from the other side.

It was certainly an odd encounter, Frances thought, now looking up at the house and trying to determine which of the windows before her might belong to that locked away portion. From the little she’d seen of the house, most of the room had two to four windows, though ones that took up the corner as her rooms did had six. As she stared up at the house, she was struckby the realization that she had yet to find the staircase that would take her to the very top windows.

The library is the same dimension as my bedchamber and sitting room, she thought, her mind sorting out the calculation.If these windows below mine are the library, then it stands to reason that the windows above mine would perhaps be a room of the same size.

It was unthinkable that there would be an entire portion of the house with expensive glass windows and no way to see out of them. There had to be some way to reach the top floor that she hadn’t yet discovered. The only solution she could think of at the time was the staircase behind the locked door.

But that makes no sense, Frances wondered, frowning and closing her book.An entire third of the house with only one staircase to reach it? And a narrow, unsteady one at that?

Her mind went to work with possibilities. Perhaps some long ago relative had portioned off that part of the house for a dowager duchess rather than sending her off to the country estate. In his kindness, perhaps both his mother and his wife’s widowed mother had shared the immense space. On the other hand, Frances had heard of some families appointing their servants’ quarters just beneath the attic, especially in larger homes where the downstairs rooms wouldn’t suffice.

But Anthony had told her that part of the house was private. As his mother had passed and there were clearly no other servantsabout, what could possibly be so unique about that place as to keep it a secret?

She was determined to find out.

Frances tucked her book under her arm and returned inside. Almost at once, she felt the pinpricks of guilt that accompany anyone who is sneaking about, trying not to be seen. Her first stop was to the library, placing the book she’d taken out back in its proper place on one of the endless shelves. After deciding that was a casual enough gesture, Frances peered out into the hall and began walking towards the staircase where Miss O’Reilly had gone before.

But there’s a lock on the door, Frances remembered as she tried to walk confidently but quietly in that direction.Perhaps she’ll have forgotten, or she only locked it before because I was standing there.

Frances crept nearer and nearer, glancing over her shoulder once to ensure no one else was in the hallway. As she passed every room, she peeked inside to ensure no one was within who might step out and see her. After the third room she passed, she stopped, questioning her motives. If there was a need to be so quiet and unseen, then that told her she was doing something that she knew to be wrong.

It was enough to make her pause in her crusade to uncover the mystery.

This is not the way to win Anthony’s trust and make him open up to me, Frances thought, staring down the hallway. The forbidden door was only a stone’s throw away, practically within reach.

No. I mustn’t.

Frances turned around, determined to avoid such a temptation, only to find Anthony standing directly behind her. She cried out in fright at the surprise, but his placid features remained as aloof as ever.

“Anthony. You startled me. Where did you even come from?” she demanded, recounting all the rooms she’d looked in.

“I was just over there,” he answered plainly. “What are you doing?”

“I… well, that is, I just left the library and thought to explore the house some more,” she stammered, knowing it was a brazen lie but not wishing to make him doubt her.

“I see,” he said, then a weighty pause created such tension between them Frances thought to make some excuse and take her leave. Before she could think of anything to say, he looked directly at her and asked, “Would you like for me to show you the gardens now?”

Frances instantly met his eye. She could see such effort on his face, in his posture, in the way his fingers moved faintlyat his sides, all of it telling her that this was so completely uncomfortable for him. Sympathy flooded her veins, and though she could not understand what it was that made him so distant, she could see how obvious it was that he was trying to overcome it.

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