Page 32 of Her Rake Fiancé

As slowly and as soundlessly as he could—thank heavens for the carpet—he moved to her door and walked out.

The hallway was dark and quiet. He needed to descend the stairs and then somehow find his way through the damned maze of corridors that led to Thorne’s study.

Wooden stairs creaked as he descended. He remembered seeing this staircase when he had visited Blackmore a few days ago. He turned left, then walked straight and there it was, the door to his study.

He stopped and breathed, listening. But everything was quiet, and he could hear only his heart beating hard.

He pushed the door and entered.

Empty, thank heavens.

The dim dawn light coming from the windows showed the desk covered in stacks of papers and books, the bookshelves full of files and book bindings. He found a candle, lit it, and began shuffling through the papers. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking for. Some information. Something.

He scanned through the letters, bills, notes. Accounting books for Elysium. Everything looked like it was kept in the strictest order.

Opening one of the drawers, he saw a black leather folder. He flipped through it, frowning, trying to make sense of what he was reading. These must be different reports of some cryptic activities. Things like It is done. And The package was delivered. And All eggs from the basket are now in the henhouse.

Among those, there was a note with the date of Spencer’s death.

The duke is taught a lesson at your request. A complication occurred. More later. Reuben.

Richard’s heart drummed so hard he didn’t at first hear the steps and the door creaking open.

Then there was a gasp and he looked up. Jane stood in the doorway, still in her gray dress and with strands of her hair hanging from her bun. Her wide eyes stared at the paper in his hand, her mouth open in shock. The next moment, she ran through the study to him, her arm outstretched, her hand grasping for the paper.

He stepped aside, holding the note high in the air, out of her reach.

“What is in your hand?” she cried.

“Proof,” said Richard, stepping back and around the desk. Closer to the door.

Still backing away, he folded the note and tucked it into the inner pocket of his vest, then turned around and left the room. Reuben. The complication. The duke. It was all about Spencer. It was proof that Thorne and his men had been involved, but it didn’t give him any clue where Spencer was or what had happened. Richard was not sure what to do with this yet.

“Stop right now!” She ran after him. “How could you do this?”

In the dark maze of the corridors, he stopped and turned to her. “You know what we’re after! Why are you surprised? You wish to be free from our arrangement as much as I do.”

“What the devil is going on?” roared Thorne as he appeared from around a corner.

14

Her brother was terrifying, and Jane’s blood went cold for the first time in her life. She’d seen Thorne angry at his men. Usually, his face went expressionless and rigid—more so, that is, than in his usual state—and the only sign of anger was his nostrils flaring ever so slightly.

She’d seen him cut, beaten, even shot. She’d seen him afraid, even when he didn’t show it.

But she’d never seen him quite so enraged. His wide eyes glittered with wrath, and his mouth was set in a thin line. The furious flush of his cheeks was mirrored by the clenched fists at his sides.

He looked positively murderous.

Jane supposed she could understand why. Looking at Richard, with his shirt bloodied and his chest peeking through, his hair in disarray… And her, with her dress crumpled, hair pins sticking out of her bun, and disheveled strands hanging weakly around her face.

No wonder death was written all over her brother’s face.

“Mr. Blackmore,” said Richard. “Good morning.”

A perfect aristocrat, all cool and collected and not even showing the slightest sign of distress. While Jane’s skin tingled and crawled. Please, please, God in heaven, do not let Thorne kill him.

“What did you do?” Thorne roared at him.