Page 48 of His Scandalous Lessons
Thorne’s laugh was brittle. “Of course. How could I expect any different? Spill it, then.”
Richard sighed. “I need you to help me search the Duke of Kendal’s residence to find out what happened to those children. I think Stanton Sheffield might be covering something up for him.”
“Something.” Thorne made a noise. “Don’t mince words, Grey. Murder, you mean.”
“It’s a distinct possibility, yes. You up for it?”
“You’ve got a man taking kids from my territory and killing ‘em, then yeah, I’m up for it. And when we’re done, you’ll give me that name, so I can gut the man who helped your duke like a fucking fish.”
* * *
The night wasin their favor. It was moonless, leaving the shadows of Kendal’s garden thick and impenetrable as the two men slipped through the property to the house. The servants ought to be asleep by now; Richard and Thorne had watched the lights go out one by one some time ago. Kendal himself had left for what looked like a journey to his country estate. His luggage had been packed, and a few of his closest attendants had gone with him.
It was the perfect opportunity to search the place.
“Let’s hurry this along,” Thorne murmured beside him as they approached the door that let out into the garden. Thorne pulled out a kit and worked on the lock. It sprang open so easily that he made a sound of derision. “The comfort of you nobs,” he said in disgust, pushing the door open.
They quietly made their way through the house, looking in each room until they found Kendal’s study.
“Search the rest of the residence,” Richard said. “I’ll see what I find here.”
Thorne nodded and left.
Richard began at the desk, looking through the papers the duke had left there. It was nothing out of the ordinary. Estate issues, accounts. If the number of ledgers along the walls were any indication, Kendal handled these things himself, rather than hiring someone to do it for him. At a glance, the ledgers were all very carefully annotated and precise.
That was something of a surprise. Kendal owned a great number of properties, and the estates themselves would have exhausted even the most patient of men. Even Richard’s brother, James, hired someone to help keep everything in order.
Richard flipped through the most recent books.
There.
Stanton Sheffield’s name. Christ. Two thousand pounds was quite a hefty sum paid. For what? Unlike the names for workmen in his employ, Kendal had not specified the purpose of the amount.
Richard went back farther. Six months. Two thousand pounds.
He grabbed another ledger. Every six months, the duke had faithfully paid Stanton Sheffield the same amount. Like clockwork.
A muffled scratch at the door made him look up. Thorne. The other man beckoned with his fingers. “Come. Be quick about it.”
Richard followed Thorne up the stairs to the duke’s bedchamber. The bedchamber? “What—” Then he noticed one of the duke’s bookcases along the far wall had swung out to reveal a passage behind it. “Bloody hell,” he murmured.
“Wait until you see.”
Thorne brushed past him to pick up the lit lantern just beyond the bookshelf and headed down the steps. The passage was dark, nothing more than a stone staircase built into the underground foundation. At the bottom, it was entirely dirt. Just a room, barely a room if that.
“Old wine cellar, perhaps,” Richard murmured. “Though the stairs look more recently built.”
Thorne made a noise. “Fuck the stairs.Look.” He gestured to the corner of the room and raised his lantern high.
There, huddled in the darkness, was a little girl.
Chapter 27
Anne was preparing for bed when her father burst into her room. “Get dressed,” he said as two housemaids followed behind him. To the maids: “Pack her things. I want her ready within the hour.”
Alarmed, Anne stood. “What’s happening?”
Her father glanced at her. Though he had every appearance of being calm, it was a deception. His face was flushed, hair disheveled as if he had been running his hands through it. Something was wrong. “We’re leaving for Kendal’s estate. You’re to be married tomorrow morning.”
