Page 61 of A Bride for the Beastly Duke
He found his brother’s former office easily enough and opened the door, peering inside. It was darkened, and there was a thick coating of dust on everything. It seemed as if no one had inherited the office following his brother’s death, and no one had been in there. He stepped in and closed the door, feeling as if he’d entered a mausoleum. The faint scent of sandalwood—his brother’s favorite perfume—still lingered in the air. He leaned against the door and let out a breath. “Oh, Jonathan.” He sighed before stepping up to the desk and trying to open the first drawer.
It was still locked.
Edward frowned, looking around for a key and finding nothing. He tried the second drawer, and it opened easily enough as didthe third. Feeling around in both, his fingers hit a piece of metal in the third drawer, and he pulled it out.
It was a key.
Edward frowned, wondering if he could possibly truly be the first person to find it and what secrets it would uncover. He placed it in the lock on the first drawer and turned it, expecting that it would turn out to be the wrong key.
The drawer unlocked.
Holding his breath, he slowly opened it. To his surprise, there was a file inside of it, albeit a very thin one. With a frown, Edward pulled it out and opened it. There was nothing inside except a paper with indecipherable squiggles and a drawing of a man’s face. Edward squinted at it, wondering who it might be. He leaned down, checking deeper in the drawer for anything else, but the rest of the drawer was empty.
Tucking the file under his arm, he closed the drawer and then left the room.
“Did you leave this for me, Jon, or is it a trap?” he murmured to himself.
Slowly walking down the corridor, he nodded politely to the people he passed before turning south at the end of the corridor and strolling nonchalantly toward the file room, hoping that no one would stop or question him.
He pushed open the door and slipped inside, circling the room until he came to the section bearing overseas records. He searched trade routes and immediately fell into despair at the sheernumberof them. But then he recalled that Jonathan had refused to kill the man and so perhaps that trade route was only pending.
“That should narrow down the search some.”
It was still a daunting task, but he pursed his lips determinedly and set to it.
“How long does it take to submit a report?” Ava mused aloud as she stirred her tea two days later.
Mr. Gabriel cleared his throat nervously. “Now, I would not know that Ma’am.”
Ava considered him thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t you? Lily seems to think you might have some thoughts on the danger involved in such an endeavor.”
The steward swallowed audibly before shaking his head jerkily, a sheen of sweat on his brow. “I am sure I do not know what you mean.”
“Mmm.” Ava continued to stir her tea slowly as she kept her eyes on him. “So, why are you so nervous Marcus?”
“I-I-I am not nervous.”
With a sigh, Ava put down her cup before leaning back in her chair and looking Marcus in the eye. “IknowMarcus. About my husband’s plan. You will not be betraying his confidence if you tell me why you thought it would be dangerous to submit a report.”
Marcus’s throat worked. He looked extremely torn. “It is not submitting the report that is the problem, Ma’am. It was the sneaking around, searching for files.”
Ava’s eyes narrowed. “He was going to do that?”
“Y-yes?”
Ava nodded, “Thank you for your time, Marcus. You are dismissed.”
The steward stood in front of her chair a moment longer before turning and leaving the study. Ava picked up her cup of tea and took a sip, thinking hard. A wave of nausea overtook her, and she put the cup down, breathing in and out hard as she moved toward the window. For a moment, she thought the nausea would overwhelm her, and she would cast up her accounts, but thankfully, it subsided as she took in deep breaths of fresh air.
She leaned against the wall, weakly, her eyes closed. “I cannot afford to panic,” she told herself sternly. “Nothingis going to happen to him.”
Listening to herself breathe in and out, eyes closed, she felt anger rising with every breath until she picked up her teacup and threw it across the room. It landed in the fireplace and shattered. She opened her eyes and stared at it.
“God, nothing better happen to him, or I shall kill him myself!”
After three days of fruitless searching - fortunately nobody had questioned his comings and goings and he avoided anyone who might recognize him - Edward decided he needed some help, so he woke up early in the morning and made his way to Mr. Michaelson’s office. The private investigator was not expecting him but welcomed him in anyway, not saying a word about the early hour.
“I have nothing new to report,” he began, squinting at Edward piercingly, “but I suspect that is not why you are here.”
