“Yes?”
“You are supposed to turn.”
She looked at him.
Then laughed.
By the time the dance ended, both were smiling.
It was the first genuinely carefree hour either had experienced in weeks.
But their happiness did not go unnoticed.
From the far side of the ballroom, Sir Edmund watched them with increasing displeasure.
He turned toward Vane.
“This must be settled.”
The steward's expression remained composed.
“The necessary papers are nearly prepared.”
“And the duke?”
“He has become inconveniently curious.”
Sir Edmund's eyes remained upon the dancing couple.
“Then we must give him something else to concern himself with.”
Vane inclined his head.
“I believe that can be arranged.”
The trouble began shortly before midnight.
Bess Finch was passing through the upper corridor with a tray of fresh candles when she heard voices inside the small estate office.
The door stood slightly ajar.
She recognized Vane's voice immediately.
“The original accounts are no longer in the study.”
Sir Edmund answered sharply.
“Where are they?”
“I have placed them somewhere secure.”
“And the duplicate?”
“Still with the other papers.”
“You fool. If the duke obtains the duplicate, he will discover everything.”
Bess stopped.
The candle flames trembled.
She heard a chair scrape.
Then Vane said, “He will be occupied tomorrow. The matter has already been arranged.”
Sir Edmund's voice lowered.
“And the girl?”
Bess held her breath.
For a terrible moment, she feared they meant her.
Then Sir Edmund said, “Miss Langley must be persuaded that the duke cannot protect her reputation.”
Bess felt a sudden chill.
She stepped backward.
Her shoe caught the edge of a loose carpet.
The tray rattled.
Inside the office, the voices stopped.
“Who's there?” Vane demanded.
Bess did not wait.
She gathered the tray against her chest and hurried toward the servants' stairs.
Behind her, the office door opened.
She heard quick footsteps.
Then Vane's voice.
“Bess!”
She continued.
“Stop!”
She reached the staircase just as a footman emerged below.
The young man looked up.
“Bess? What's happened?”
“Nothing,” she gasped. “Move!”
She ran past him.
But before she reached the bottom, a hand caught her arm.
Vane had followed.
“What were you doing outside my office?”
Bess turned.
“Carrying candles, sir.”
“At this hour?”
“The ballroom requires them.”
“Then why were you listening at my door?”
“I wasn't.”
His fingers tightened.
“Do not lie to me.”
Bess struggled to keep her voice steady.
“Please, sir. You're hurting me.”
Vane released her.
But he leaned close.
“You are very young, girl. You would be wise to remember that your employment depends upon your discretion.”
Bess swallowed.
“Yes, sir.”
“And so does your father's accommodation.”