Lanora took the steps of the servant’s staircase two at a time. Tears burned her eyes. She couldn’t tell if they were of anger or fatigue. They weren’t from sorrow, for she’d lost nothing in William’s betrayal. She’d known from the start he was a rake and not the man she would wed. No man was. She would live like her aunt. The people she and her father watched over would simply have to hope their new lords were worthy when Lanora ended their branch of the Solworth line, childless.

She managed to gain the security of her room before tears fell in earnest. Collapsing on her bed, she let them well forth with bitter sobs. She didn’t want to die childless. She wanted William’s son. A lively, mischievous boy who would be nearly more trouble than he was worth, but with the heart of an angel. She wanted William’s arms about her. His kiss. The security of his love.

She slammed a fist down on the coverlet. She would never have that security. He’d selected her name from a list. She hadn’t even been at the top. An afterthought, near the end. She hated that page, with its coldly drawn up list of only the wealthiest, most desirable young women. She hated William’s signature, so bold at the bottom, but smudged as if written by someone who used their left hand. His signature was like the rest of him, perfection artfully disarrayed.

“Lanora.” Grace burst into the room.

Lanora lifted her head, taking in her friend’s red-rimmed eyes.

Grace rushed to her and pulled her into a hug. “Where have you been? I’ve been beside myself with worry. This is all my fault, for letting you go off alone. What happened?”

Lanora drew in a long, shuddering breath, hugging Grace back. “Nothing. Nothing really. Does my aunt know I was missing?”

Grace let go, holding Lanora at arm’s length to look her over. “Nothing? Your hair is a mess. Your gown is wrinkled. You’re crying.” Grace’s eyes flew wide. Her face drained of color. “My God. Your hair, your gown…Lanora, you didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” She blinked several times, trying to clear her thoughts.

“You’ve gone and let your virtue go.” Grace heaved a sob. “Oh no. Oh, this is not good.”

“What? I most certainly have not.” Lanora looked down at her dress, creased from her time hiding under the desk. She pushed at her hair, though there was little hope of achieving any order. The few remaining pins fell out. “Grace, listen to me. I didn’t give up anything. Don’t cry so.”

Grace grabbed her arm and pulled her across the room. She shoved Lanora in front of her mirror. “Look at you.”

She did look awful. She could understand Grace’s fear. “Honestly, I haven’t given up my virtue.”

“Then where have you been? What happened? I told your aunt you’re too ill to go out. She didn’t say anything, but even the dogs looked suspicious. I know they could tell I was lying.”

“I can explain.” Letting out a sigh, Lanora returned to the bed and settled on the edge. “I didn’t tell you, but I kissed Lord William when we were in the park. Once.” She offered a glare. “Which was your idea, if you’ll recall.” She paused, organizing her thoughts. “Then, when he didn’t come to the theater as he said he would, I was…angry.”

Grace was dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “You kissed him? How could you not tell me? So, it was a good kiss? You must have learned you care for him, or you wouldn’t have been so out of sorts this morning.”

“I do not care for him.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“You will as well, once you hear all.” Lanora looked down. Grace was not going to like the next part. “After handing out bread this morning, I went to spy on Lord William, at his mistress’s house. I wanted to confront him when he came out.”

“Lanora.” That single word held a wealth of disappointment.

“He never came out. Nor did she. Someone else was watching for him too, though, just as Joseph reported. When the man watching the house left, I decided to try to learn who else cared where Lord William went.”

Grace stood with her hands on her hips, glaring. Lanora realized her days of going out alone as Mrs. Smith were over. From the look on Grace’s face, it would take all of Lanora’s persuasiveness to keep her aunt from being informed of her behavior.

“The man went to an attorney. I followed him in and eavesdropped.”

Grace threw up her hands. Her tears were dry now, scorched away by her anger. “Lanora.”

Lanora winced. “It gets worse. I had to hide under a desk, so I wouldn’t be seen. That’s how I ended up locked in the attorney’s office. I was trapped.”

“By all that’s holy, Lanora.”

“I know, it was bad, but I did learn a lot.” Bitterness laced her tone.

“Let me have a bath drawn up in your dressing room and you can tell me what you learned. We have to get you cleaned up.”

“I can help.”

“You cannot.” Grace’s expression turned to one of alarm. “No one saw you come in looking like this, did they? None of the others?”

Lanora shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Let’s pray not.” Grace pivoted and hurried from the room.

Lanora organized her thoughts while Grace worked in the adjoining room, readying a tub. Lanora could hear other members of the staff come and go, some asking after her health in soft tones. Grace’s relief sounded real when she told them Lanora would be well soon. Lanora hadn’t meant to distress Grace so, and for what? Though she’d told Grace she’d learned a lot, what had she really learned? One thing, at least, that was important. The attorney Mr. Darington used, the one her father hadn’t wished to employ, had stolen the funds for the women’s home. There was no other way to put it. He’d appropriated them and then lost them, somehow.

She’d found no written evidence of that, however. No records of Darington at the attorney’s, at all. There was one more place to look, though. A strongbox hidden in the wall, behind a painting hung over the mantel. Lanora suspected Lethbridge had selected the dullest landscape he could find so the painting would garner little attention. The strongbox behind it was the only part of the office that had resisted her search, for search she had. She’d plenty of time, after all, locked in for hours.

She knew she could get into the strongbox if she brought her lock pics. She was quite skilled at picking locks, for all she hadn’t been able to fashion the right tools by bending her hairpins. She used to practice the skill for hours. In her child’s mind, Egyptian treasure was sealed in chests, like pirate gold, and once she’d convinced her father to take her with him on his expeditions, she would have shown him her talent. That childish fancy would serve her well now. If she was going to bring Lethbridge to justice and see the home for women finished, she would need to go back and look in that strongbox.

Lanora rose and slowly began to undress. Grace was correct, her garments were uncommonly wrinkled. Lanora was sure Grace would wash them herself. It wouldn’t do for the others to suspect that Lanora had done anything compromising, for even loyal servants gossiped. Lanora paused. What could Lord William possibly have been doing in Lethbridge’s office in the middle of the night? She’d heard him at the door. She would wager her father’s fortune he’d picked the lock. Had he learned that skill in Egypt? To her dismay, her father assured her Egyptians used much more elaborate mechanisms.

How didn’t matter as much as why, though. Why was Lord William there? What was he looking for at the attorney’s? Perhaps the list? Although she had no idea why he might worry it would be circulated, it was certainly incriminating. He could have gone there to secure it. She wished he’d done so before she set eyes on it.

Lanora stop undressing, then crossed to the fire and stirred it up to ward off the chill in her room. No, she didn’t wish he’d hidden the list. It was good she’d seen it. She couldn’t live in a dream world, because one always woke up. Better the pain in her heart now than waking up to find herself married to Lord William, while he spent Lanora’s fortune on his mistress.

She frowned, tugging free her laces. It was all so odd, though. Lethbridge having Lord William followed. His mysterious mistress no one ever saw. His claims that his father was making him marry. His father making him pretend to be someone he was not, a cold, cruel, ruthless, cad of a man. Could she believe any of it?

Well, she believed the part about being ordered to marry. That explained how she’d become mixed up in Lord William’s life. Watched her from afar, indeed. How had she ever considered believing that?

Lanora let out a sigh, stepping from the ring of clothing at her feet. She’d started to believe it because she wished to. He was handsome. Warm. So convincing. It would be terribly nice to have a man like the one he pretended to be love her as he pretended to love her.

She blinked, recalling what else she’d overheard. Pretend love. Was that a weapon of all men? She doubly needed to return to Mr. Lethbridge’s office. She had to learn who this poor girl was he would soon be guardian to. Lanora would not let Mr. Lethbridge seduce or coerce some young woman into marrying him.

Once the other staff left, she would tell Grace all she’d learned that evening. Even Grace must agree there were worthy reasons for returning to Mr. Lethbridge’s office to search. And if Grace didn’t agree, well, Lanora would have to be sneaky.