A tap on the door signaled the arrival of the refreshments and the end to their discussion. The ladies fell on the dessert tray while Gillian poured tea for all around. Philly finished her sweets, yawned and delicately covered her mouth with her serviette. “Mercy, my apologies. I must be more tired than I realized. After such a lovely repast, I for one am ready for my bed,” Philly opined.
“Oh yes, Philly, I too am ready for bed,” Moreham’s mother chimed in.
Gillian smothered a giggle. The duchess was not as consummate an actress as Philly and her delivery was not as believable as her friend’s.
Gillian rose with Moreham shadowing the two ladies. “Come with me and I will show you to your rooms on the second floor. The entire floor has been prepared for my uncle’s most distinguished guests from Parliament. I thought it best to put you there so you will be close to the others during the house party.”
“I am sure, we will enjoy ourselves. The duchess is a special friend of ours.” Philly responded. The only sound in the room was Perkins caught in a coughing fit. Gillian gasped at the butler when she passed him at the library doors. The old man winked at her. She had been gone from this house far too long. Winking indeed. Moreham growled behind her. The perfect reaction of a bridegroom seeing a retainer act too familiar with his new wife.
Gillian, with Moreham on her heels, led the ladies up the stairs. A quick look into the first room revealed a maid unpacking.
“Lady Philly, here is your room and Lady Sylvia…um…Mama your rooms are across the hall. Each room has a dressing room with a cot for your maids. The tweenie will enter your rooms to set your fires at five o’clock. Please have your maids ring for your morning tea or chocolate and toast.”
“Moreham and I will break our fast in the dining room at the back of the house if you wish to join us or you may ask for your breakfast to be served in your rooms. We plan to ride in the morning, so we will eat breakfast early and be gone until mid-morning. If there is anything, we can do to make your stay more comfortable, please say the word.”
Moreham watched over her as each lady bade them good night. He fought the urge to preen. He’d done well in marrying the lady.
With his mama and Philly tucked in for the night, Moreham and Gillian retired to their sitting room. Gillian paced around the room looking at first one trinket then another.
“Now we wait. Wouldn’t happen to have a deck of cards or a chess board among your things, would you?” Gillian mumbled as she rummaged through the drawers of his secretary on the far side of the room.
“Why would we need to amuse ourselves with games?” he asked without thinking.
Gillian ceased her search and gave him her full attention. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a glare that spoke of mutiny in the ranks was coming his way.
Moreham shook his head at his bride. “There is no need for you to accompany me to the duke’s rooms. Take yourself off to bed.”
The headstrong woman’s brow furrowed more deeply which was not a good omen. Gillian ceased her search and gave him her full attention.
“I think not. We are in this together, remember? Besides, you have no notion where uncle’s safe is located in his rooms. Nor do you know where the key is hidden.”
Moreham disliked the smug expression on his wife’s face. He really abhorred the fact she was correct. Having her along would speed up the reconnaissance of the suite of rooms at the end of the hall. One never knew when a servant would make an appearance to take care of a task left undone. Having Gillian along would provide him with a plausible though weak excuse for wandering through the private rooms of the duke, his host.
He threw up his hands in surrender. “Very well, we will wait until the household settles for the night. The later we venture out the better. However, you will follow my instructions to the letter. No dramatics. We will do as we did with the library. I search and you keep watch. Agreed?”
Gillian favored him with a huge smile and raised her hand to reveal a deck of cards.
“Yes, now what shall we play?”
Two hours later, Moreham crept down the hallway with Gillian at his back. They’d played every card game she wanted while they waited. Every time he thought they were the only ones awake footsteps would resound through the night’s quiet. He had finally given up and declared the games over.
They made their way down the corridor to the ducal apartments. He eased the double doors open and stepped into the duke’s sitting room. Gillian followed him and without the slightest squeak of hinges closed the door. The sitting room was filled with settees and chairs arranged in two small seating areas centered on the fireplace. The drapes were drawn which robbed them of any moonlight. They would need candles for their search.
Moreham pulled Gillian closer to his side. “The safe?”
Gillian nodded, took his hand and led him to the far side of the fireplace where a rather old looking silver urn occupied a decorative alcove. He almost groaned when she reached for the large urn and picked it up. Gillian sat the urn on the floor. She ran her hand over the back wall of the small space. A single click echoed, and the wall disappeared downward.
Moreham lit his candle and leaned closer to get a better look at the safe. A padlock? He would have to find the key.
Gillian cleared her throat. He turned to find her holding out a single key.
“Gillian, you are a treasure, to be sure.” He kissed her and plucked the key from her grasp. So relieved to have the key,
