The Archaeologist's Daughter by Summer Hanford

Author:Summer Hanford
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Scarsdale Publishing, Ltd
Published: 2017-07-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

William strode up to the door of Lethbridge’s building, relying on the dark to obscure him from casual observation. He cast a look up and down the street, finding it empty. He would have preferred gaining entry via the window, clad as Lefthook, but when it came to the wealthier parts of town, future marquess was a better disguise than vigilante of the poor. If it came down to it, he could pretend inebriation to explain his presence where he didn’t belong. His title would take care of the rest.

Not that he was in any shape for climbing in windows, which had impeded evading the marquess’s surveillance. He’d done well enough for a man who’d hardly been able to climb the servants’ stairs the night before. In truth, the most difficult task of his day thus far had been convincing Cecilia he was fit enough to go out. If she had her way, he would have remained in bed

William would have given in to his stepmother’s coddling, but he needed to find out what was going on with the home for women. He knew, in view of his reputation, Lanora would think the worst about his absence at the theater. He wanted something to show for it before he saw her again, to make it up to her.

Assured the street was empty, William dug out a set of lock picks and let himself in. The door to Lethbridge’s office was a similarly surmountable barrier. He closed it softly behind him.

Once inside, William used memory to reach the fireplace, and stirred up the coals for light. He went from the reception room into Lethbridge’s office, finding that door open. Oddly, so was the narrow door at the back of the room, the one protecting Lethbridge’s records. In all his visits to the attorney’s office, he had never seen that door open. Intrigued, he checked that the curtains were closed and coaxed a larger flame from the grate. Assured the room was secure from escaping light, he pulled out several candle stubs and lit them.

Something slid softly across the floor in the reception room. There was a rustle of fabric. Quiet footsteps sounded. They seemed to be moving away from him, but it was hard to tell from the faint sounds. Hand on his pistol, William whirled.

“Lady Lanora?” he blurted, stunned.

She turned, appearing equally shocked. Her hair, showing lingering evidence of powder, was half down. Now that William thought to look for them, he noted several bent hairpins on the desk. She held a single page clutched in her hand. Her expression made a rapid switch from shock to cold anger.

“Lord William.” She strode toward him, shoulders back and chin up. “Perhaps you can explain this.” She slapped the page down on Lethbridge’s desk.

What in God’s name was Lady Lanora Hadler, dressed in her lowly widow’s costume and looking thoroughly disheveled, doing in Lethbridge’s office? Hot rage shot through William as he took in the details of her wrinkled gown and disarrayed tresses.

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