A Most Mysterious Gentleman (#1 Sweet Nineteenth Series) VERY SLOW UPDATES

AMMG ~25~

Attempting to get past the Duke to get into the Earl of Rochester's private study was proving to be more difficult than he had anticipated. Even Stephen, truly a Master of Disguise had yet to manage to get in.

Henry had tried, unsuccessfully to 'get lost' and wander in, but he was sure the servants were getting very suspicious as they kept wandering in whilst he was looking for the documents. Draws, locked, he had managed to pick. Letters on the side, he'd been through everyone looking for something that could have been planted on him. He knew the documents were of a treasonous nature, the Duke had told him of that. But he was confused. As soon as the scandal came to light, if the Earl and the old Duke had published them to the crown, surely they would know it was a hoax? 

Then again, I do so much work in France. And there was the rumour of the French Lady-in-Waiting. They could have said I was changing sides to marry her. The unstable and naive ton would believe anything and I would become an outcast. But the Crown would know it wasn't true. But the damage would have already been done. 

His head reeled. That was just it. The Marquess wasn't stupid. He knew the Home Department would clear him almost immediately, even examining the body would show that as there would be no discolouration. It wasn't his life that the Marquess wanted, though it most probably would be a bonus to him if something went wrong and he did end up being charged with High Treason, hanged and decapitated. 

The question was why. They had all clearly been following his plan perfectly. The question was why, the outcome, and where he had taken Rosalie, if he had at all. 

It seemed more likely. It had been a fair number of days, no ransom request and the Duke's men had not discovered a body, and they had searched miles.

What Rosalie had to add to his plan was still very unknown. As was to their destination. Poster's with drawings of her likeness were everywhere within a 100 miles and nothing had come to light, except a few trying and guessing answers for the reward of information. 

He saw the Duke move his pacing body away from the entry to the study. He had been an awful fright after his daughter's disappearance, not sleeping, bad mouthed and tempered and scared everyone, including the Earl of Rochester, in his own house no less. Meal times had been tense and the Countess had excused herself at every opportunity making for an awkward table conversation as the Duke sat in stony silence.

He watched as the man himself, who'd seem to grow older in front of his eyes, look out the window wistfully. 

It was time.

He crept into the study just wishing they'd let him see the documents because it would have been frightfully easier.

This time he was looking for hiding places. Tapping the oak desks, the floorboards, the wall panels.

Nothing.

There was a majestic Medieval style embroidery on the wall of a young woman entering a door. He looked closer. The picture seemed to dip in slightly at the door.

He lifted it, annoyed at himself for not noticing before something so obvious, and, in finding the hole containing papers, lifted them out with a look of triumph upon his face.

It was time to solve this case and get his fiancee home.