The Compromised Duchess

The Compromised duchess 10

                                                   Chapter 10

Thomas stared at the fidgety character who nervously stood before him, and not for the first time, wondered at the depths a man could sink before reaching rock bottom. He grimaced in distaste and turned away

“Ye man said me could have a silver piece if I bring ye the 'formation guvnor.” Rufus scratched his head and squished lice with his dirty fingernails

“So he said” Thomas replied absently, leafing through a grubby notebook Rufus had handed him earlier. He had to commend the man, each visit was neatly recorded, including the date and duration. He shut the book and leaned against the wall, propping one leg behind him. “How am I certain this is accurate?

“Ehh? don’t ye werry yerself 'bout that guvnor, Rufus Squirely aint no lair.” Rufus grinned, showing sparse rotten teeth, “me ma'am weld paddle me behind if her caught me a'lyin.”

Thomas contemplated the creature before him, then fished in his pocket for his purse. He withdrew two silver pieces and tossed them to Rufus. “Here, get yourself a bath, some food and good clothes, mind you, don’t spend it all on drink.” Rufus caught the coins mid-air and pocketed them gleefully. Tonight, he would visit the Horse and Spirits and get himself a nice pint of beer. He licked his lips in anticipation and bade his lordship a very good morrow.

When he was certain he was alone, Thomas crossed to a large bookshelf that completely covered one wall of his study, and reached between two books to pull a hidden lever. There was a soft click, and he swung the shelf clockwise, where it slid noiselessly on recently oiled hinges to reveal a small enclosure behind it. Thomas ducked through the low entryway and placed the book on a small table that sat next to a cabinet filled with guns and hunting knifes. Then he withdrew back to the study and carefully concealed the enclave, then sat down at his desk and pondered.

From what he had been able to discover, it seemed Sir Crowley had formed an alliance with the French, and had been secretly leaking information from the Home Office to his contact, an elusive opera singer, who posed as his mistress. But what Thomas was yet to fathom, was the reason for Sir Crowley's murder. Surely it would have been more prudent to simply steal the papers and disappear.

He rose and walked to the door, then out the hall towards the gardens. It had always been a place of solitutude where he could think surrounded by nature's finest flowers.

“Excuse me Your Grace?” Everton's voice interrupted his determined strides. He turned to see his butler holding a silver platter with a gold calling card in it. “You have a visitor”

“Who is it?” Thomas asked a trifle irritated, he was in no mood for callers today. “I'm not receiving any visitors Everton, I have business to attend to.” he resumed his walk.

“Shall I inform the lady you are unavailable Your Grace?” Everton asked, his voice bearing a slight hint of amusement at the expected reaction.

Thomas paused mid stride and turned around, a perplexed expression on his face. “A lady? What in heaven? Who is she?”

“Lady Laurel Abbington,Your grace, and might I suggest a change of attire before you meet Her ladyship?”

“Yes, I suppose I must” Thomas cast a disparaging glance at his dusty riding clothes and ran a hand through unruly black hair. “Ask James to meet me in my dressing room now. Oh , has the lady been served tea?”

“I believe she is been served as we speak.” Everton answered, moving off to do his master's bidding. “I shall inform her of the slight delay Your Grace.”