The Duke of Roxburghe—and Miss Webb— moved aside, revealing the stain. “A footprint.”
“That’s hardly cause to request my immediate presence,” Mr. Hughes said, acknowledging Miss Webb with a quick head bob.
“Is theft?” The Duke of Mansfield snapped, his sharp response causing Helena to take an involuntary step away from him.
Mr. Hughes swore under his breath. “Who was affected?”
“Lennox, Beaufort, and I.” The Duke of Mansfield pointed to each person as he named them. “Three gold watch fobs and one ruby ring.”
“Value?” asked Mr. Hughes, crouching beside the footprint.
“Immeasurable.” The Duke of Lennox slid around Helena and placed himself between her and the rest of the room.
“Due to the size, I think we’re seeking a woman.” Mr. Hughes touched the base of the slush stain.
“We thought the same,” the Duke of Lennox said, indicating the Duke of Mansfield with his chin. “It appears she entered through that window.”
Mr. Hughes stood, walked to the window, and examined the damaged latch. “Did you search the house to confirm the items were indeed missing?”
“Every chamber with the exception of Miss Rowe’s,” the Duke of Lennox said, drawing Helena to his side. “Before we could, the footprint was discovered.”
Mr. Hughes turned to her. “Do you protest an inspection of your chamber?”
“Of course not,” Helena replied, praying no one could hear the rapid beating of her heart. “I’m ashamed the incident occurred in my home.”
The Duke of Lennox spun, taking her hands in his. “Do not, for one moment, place the blame upon yourself, Miss Rowe. You didn’t do this.”
But she had.
Tears formed in her eyes, threatening to slide down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” she whispered, ripped her hands from his grip, and ran from the room.
Skidding to a halt in the foyer, she oscillated between heading outside into the cold and waiting until the search of her chamber was completed before thinking up an excuse to leave the house for her meeting with Miss Drummond.
“I searched the grounds,” Mr. Hughes said as though Helena hadn’t just transformed into a blubbering mess and rushed from the library, “and discovered one set of footprints winding around the side of the house. They stopped at each window. Clearly, the person intended to enter by force.”
Helena pressed her hand to her mouth, stifling her tears, and strained to listen to Mr. Hughes.
“I also discovered this, hidden by the doorstep.” Mr. Hughes paused, showing the item.
Should she creep back down the hallway and peek in?
“Does it mean anything to anyone here? A message of love, perhaps?”
What was it?
A chorus of ‘nos’ echoed from the library.
“I’ll ask Miss Rowe when she returns.” Mr. Hughes’ voice neared the doorway, and Helena scurried toward the front door.
As she grabbed her pelisse from the rack, the Duke of Lennox said, “She may not; Miss Rowe loathes lavender.”
Eyes widening, Helena unlocked and ripped open the door, jumping outside before the scream bubbling up in her throat exploded through her lips. She hastened down the path, slipping on the ice.
One of the fobs shifted, stabbing her in the bottom of the foot, and she cried out. Stuffing her fist into her mouth, she bit down, then forced her body forward, limping toward the fence.
Since Miss Drummond took every crown last night, Helena couldn’t hire transportation. Shivering, she turned to her left and hobbled to the corner, biting her lip every time she stepped on her left foot.
