Page 129 of Immortal Rose

“My pleasure.” To my disappointment, I heard the chair creak as he sat in it.

“What are you reading?” I asked, forcing my eyes open again.

He held up a small bundle of opened correspondence. “A letter from Vernon, tucked inside a short note from Oliver Radcliffe. Radcliffe says he’s still investigating on our behalf, but Vernon’s letter is altogether more concerning. He hasn’t seen Eleanor for several days. Glenmoor claims she’s unwell and has sent regrets to all the invitations she’s received.”

“You must look in on her,” I told him. “As soon as you can.”

“Tomorrow, once Glenmoor has left the palace,” he promised. “There’s also another letter for you downstairs, from Hornsby & Featherson.”

The Rosebourne solicitors. “Have they discovered our ruse?”

“I don’t know,” Foxcourt said. “It was addressed to you.”

I gave him a speaking glance.

“All right, yes, I may have held it up to the light,” he said. “It’s something to do with a bequest from William Rosebourne. Hornsby is asking for you to meet him at Briarwood Palace tomorrow. If you’d like to go, I’ll send Tommy, Willie, and Felicity to accompany you.”

A pathetic flare of panic ignited in my chest. “But not you?”

He set the missives aside, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. “After I see to Eleanor, I intend to find Glenmoor.”

Somehow, I suspected his plans went far beyond merely finding the man.

“He’ll anticipate you reacting to the poisoning.” I studied his face as I added, “Wouldn’t it be more disarming to do nothing at all?”

His jaw set in that hard, mulish line. “It must be answered.”

“And he will have an answer to your answer,” I rasped out. “If you are determined to finish this, don’t make it so easy on him . . . find a way to make him think you’re after his wallet when you’re really after his shiny fob.”

Foxcourt’s lips twisted as he fought a smile. “Hard-won wisdom from the Brickbats?”

“A helpful lesson from a retired prostitute,” I corrected, my nerves twisting at not knowing what Foxcourt intended to do next. “At least don’t let him convince you that you have to see this through alone—”

My plea was lost to the terror of a bloodcurdling scream.

Felicity.

The world spun violently around me as I lurched upright. Foxcourt was already on his feet and at the door, throwing a stern finger in my direction. “Stay here.”

Ignoring him, I staggered out of bed. My spirit was willing, my body less so. It was a struggle to fight my way down the hall, alternating between bracing my shoulder and arm against the wall.

“—there was a knock at the door, but when I opened it, there was only the parcel,” Felicity was saying, her face bone white. “I shouldn’t have opened it, but . . .”

An overwhelming relief washed over me at the sight of her, safe and whole, so much so that I sagged against the banister.

Tommy and Willie were braced on either side of her, Tommy stroking a comforting hand down her back, Willie murmuring to her. The boys were as grim-faced as I’d ever seen them.

“Nothing good comes of answering the door after midnight,” Mrs. Keyes declared. Both she and Foxcourt stood with their backs to me, blocking my sight of the table near the door.

“What is it?” Fleming asked, looking slightly disoriented as he emerged from the kitchen. His long nightcap trailed behind him, his hands fluttering in frantic patterns. “What’s happened? Oh—Felicity, thank goodness.”

Felicity sent him a watery smile. “Sorry for giving you a fright, Fleming.”

Mrs. Keyes and Mrs. Silver exchanged a glance, the latter peeling off from the back of the group.

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Silver said soothingly as she steered the butler back in the direction of the kitchen. “The whole house is awake now. Shall we make everyone some tea? Yes, let’s do that.”

Brigadier paced in circles at Foxcourt’s bare feet, whining and panting. She stopped as I came toward them unsteadily.