Page 38 of Stolen By the Heartless Duke

She was very aware of the stares and felt very vulnerable, despite knowing that she could not be identified.

“Stay close,” the duke said quietly.

Jane lifted her chin. “I was already planning to.”

They were taken to a private office without resistance. The manager greeted them with the kind of smile that was carefully trained to mean nothing.

The duke did not bother with pleasantries. He placed a stack of money on the desk. “I need access to your records,” he said.

The manager’s smile thinned. “That is not?—”

The duke added another stack. The manager paused. Jane watched the shift carefully. It was subtle, but unmistakable: hesitation giving way to calculation.

“I cannot be seen doing this.”

The duke added more.

The man exhaled slowly, as if offended by how easily his principles were collapsing. Jane stepped forward before the duke could escalate things further.

“We only need one thing,” she said clearly. “The guest ledger for your private suites.”

Both men looked at her. The duke’s gaze flicked to her briefly, but he did not interrupt.

The manager tilted his head. “And you are?”

Jane held his gaze. “Someone trying to find her brother.”

That seemed to satisfy him in the most pragmatic way possible. He opened a drawer and produced a ledger. The room quieted as he placed it on the desk. Pages were turned.

Names, dates, and coded annotations filled the columns like a language meant to conceal more than it revealed.

The duke scanned the pages quickly and efficiently.

Jane followed, slower but more focused, her finger hovering just above the ink as if the right name might warm under her touch and reveal itself to her.

Minutes passed. Jane’s chest tightened. Then she saw it. Her finger stopped. “Wait.”

The duke looked down.

She pointed. “Foxglove.”

The ink was plain. Innocent. Almost delicate, and quite evidently Colin’s handwriting. But it hit her like a bell struck too hard.

The duke looked down again at the ledger. “Then this confirms he was here.”

Jane nodded slowly. “But not for pleasure.”

“No,” the duke agreed. “A meeting.”

Jane turned another page. “He wouldn’t have used a brothel before, nor a meeting place. Not like this. It must have been chosen for anonymity.”

The duke’s jaw tightened slightly. “Then it is useful.”

Jane looked up. “Or misleading.”

Then Jane turned back to the manager. “Who booked it?” she asked.

The man hesitated. The duke’s hand moved toward the money again.