“I’ll start with the dressing table.” Levi turned and trudged around Mr. Hughes, who’d dropped to his knees and was halfway under the bed.
Rounding the corner of the mattress, Levi’s gaze swept over the pale green and cream linens.
“Intriguing,” he murmured.
“What did you say?” Mr. Hughes retracted his head.
“It’s nothing, just an observation,” Levi replied, but Mr. Hughes stood and walked over.
“It could be important,” he said, gesturing at the bed. “What did you notice?”
“When we discovered the thefts, we immediately sent Mrs. Hawkins to summon you.” Levi paused. “However, Miss Rowe’s bed is spread up.”
“She made her own bed?” Crinkles appeared around Mr. Hughes’ eyes.
“Yes, that intrigues me.”
Mr. Hughes ripped back the coverlet, his gaze sliding over the bed sheet. “Because you think she hid something in the linens?”
Roxburghe chuckled and strode over to the faded mahogany armoire. “He’s surprised by the lady’s inclination to perform a servant’s task without assistance.”
“She makes her own perfume as well,” Levi said, shifting his gaze to Roxburghe as he opened the cabinet door.
“With lavender?” Mr. Hughes picked up a pillow and squished it between his hands.
Levi struggled to keep the irritation from his reply. “I previously informed you that Miss Rowe loathes the scent.”
“I recall.” Mr. Hughes returned the pillow to its original location and then jerked the coverlet back into place. “However, I cannot explain the presence of the bundle of lavender I discovered buried in the snow.”
A creak echoed through the room as Roxburghe pulled open an armoire drawer.
“Would you surmise the flowers belonged to the thief?” he asked, looking at Mr. Hughes.
Mr. Hughes shrugged. “The favor may belong to any of the ladies in attendance last evening… with the exception of Miss Rowe.”
He suspected Mr. Hughes added the last portion of his statement to prevent Levi from correcting him again. Levi held his tongue, sitting on a small stool shoved against the dressing table.
An ivory fan, a silver box containing several ribbons, and an embroidered hairbrush lined the back of the table, touching the base of the mirror. In the center of the table rested a small wooden jewelry box, half the size of the one in Miss Webb’s chamber. Levi reached out and lifted the lid, peeking into the container. Five pieces rested in the base, none of them possessing much worth.
“Have you discovered anything?” Roxburghe asked, pushing closed the armoire’s bottom drawer.
“Nothing of note,” Levi replied as he rose.
His eyes skated over the vanity again, and before he could stop himself, his wayward hand whipped out, snatched one of Miss Rowe’s hair ribbons, and tucked the adornment into his pocket.
Neither Roxburghe nor Mr. Hughes noticed the theft… if one could call it that. A ribbon held nowhere near the value of his father’s ring, yet the desire to possess something of Miss Rowe’s overwhelmed his conscience to the point he stole the light pink trimming.
Did it smell of her as well?
“Your Graces,” Roxburghe said when they returned to the library, “our investigation in Miss Rowe’s chamber yielded nothing.”
“As expected,” Mansfield interrupted, striding toward them.
“Therefore,” Roxburghe continued, glowering at Mansfield, “before Beaufort expires from hunger, we should depart for my lodgings.”
Warwick thumped his cane on the floor. “My belongings are at Lennox’s.”
“And you may send for them whenever you wish,” Roxburghe replied, bowing low and turning to his right. “Mr. Hughes? May I tempt you with something to eat?”
