She walked past Lilly’s bedroom first and stopped to listen at the door. Lilly slept like the dead and would never have heard anything, though she could not tell if her sister was still asleep. She would check on Ivy next then go in search of the source of the footsteps. A slight murmur from Ivy’s room assured here it was not her sister sleepwalking. The only other person in this wing was Duke. If it was not him and it certainly was not Simon...
Well, she might need the poker after all.
She stopped at his door. She had little idea if Duke snored or talked in his sleep but only silence greeted her. Twisting the doorknob slowly, she winced when the door creaked. She peered into the darkness of his bedroom. The curtains around the bed weren’t fully closed and she made out his sheets tossed aside.
“Duke?” she whispered and waited. No response.
It had to be Duke prowling the house. Was he well? In pain perhaps? Arms wrapped about herself, she headed down the corridor toward the stairs. A golden glow bounced off the walls of the high-ceilinged stairwell and she eased out a breath and smiled when she spied the outline of a man.
“Thank goodness—” Her smile dropped when she recognized the footman. He lifted his candle and hastened up the last few steps to stand in front of her.
“Is all well, my lady?”
“Yes, I just...” She bunched her arms tighter about herself, aware of being in no more than a shift. “I heard a noise,” she said. “Did you see anything?”
“It was most likely Mr. Cameron, my lady.”
“But of course it was.” She eased out a breath. “Do you know where he went?”
“I couldn’t say. He said he was going to ride out and—”
Violet held up a hand. “He rode out?”
“I was just doing my last rounds as he headed out, my lady.” The footman straightened his posture. “I did warn him that it was dark, my lady, and not really the right time to—”
“I know.” She gave a tight smile. “I’m sure he did not listen to a word you said.”
Violet could not fathom where he was going and why, but no one could persuade Duke not to do something if he set his mind to it. Why would he be heading out on horseback—in his condition—so late at night though? The past few days, he’d seemed better, however he was hardly fully healed.
The footman peered at her. “If there’s anything else...?”
“Oh no. Of course. Please do not let me keep you.” She watched the footman head back downstairs until the light of his candle faded.
The bitter chill ate through her chemise and her teeth began to chatter though she suspected the sensation was more from the idea of Duke being out in the dark, all alone, in less than excellent physical condition. What if he fell off his horse? What if something happened to him?
Pivoting, she headed back to her room, snatched her robe and cinched it tight. Then she slipped her feet into her kid shoes, sighing as warmth slowly seeped into her bones. Wherever Duke was, she might as well at least be warm and comfortable because as much as she did not wish to devote more mental time to him, she was in for a long night of worrying about him.
∞∞∞
One benefit of still healing was Duke looked the part when he made his way to the bar and ordered a pint of ale. He waited for the less than sprightly barmaid to pour a drink and winced as she hobbled over, the drink sloshing over the sides of the tankard before she dropped it down and spilled more across an already sticky bar top. He glanced at it and wondered how much ale was even left as he handed over payment.
She took the coin with barely a glance at him.
At least he knew the faded bruises upon his face and the constant look of fatigue ensured he drew no attention in a tavern known to be the hideout for the Moor Road gang. It was hardly a secret. Everyone in Bath knew to avoid the pub and the area around it even before Doyle had been arrested and details of how he used the place as a rookery were revealed.
Leaning upon the bar, he glanced around. The taproom smelled of stale hops and unwashed bodies and the low ceilings and dark wood paneled walls emphasized the sensation of being crushed into the venue with too many other patrons.
He kept his hat low over his face and smirked. The last time he’d set foot in such a place had been in his youth when he and Roman had drunk far too much and decided to be reckless. Luckily for them, the landlady had taken pity on them when they drank themselves into a stupor and let them sleep it off in her back room. He doubted there would be any pity to be found here, though.
This time, however, he wasn’t here for ale or to act like a reckless youth.
Duke needed to dosomething.He needed to knowsomething. Sitting around in ignorance was not something he was used to. Ever since he’d been a boy, he’d suffered interminable curiosity. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say those around him suffered.
His poor father used to joke that there were not enough books in England to cope with his son’s voracious appetite for reading and knowledge and he went through at least half a dozen school masters when Duke inevitably knew more than they did. He regretted the arrogance of his youth these days though if he ever had a son, he’d damn well make sure his school master wasn’t someone who had bought his way through Oxford or Cambridge as many of his had.
While he nursed the warm, weak ale, he watched the patrons from under the brim of his hat and forced himself to keep from tapping his fingers on the bar top. Much longer and he’d be lucky to make it back to Porchester House before sunrise. Violet would give him hell if she discovered he’d snuck out and he could do without being scolded yet again. He longed for the days when they were just good friends, and he didn’t have to worry about her, and she didn’t fret for him.
Of course, that was before they kissed and that would mean he’d never know what Violet Musgrave’s lips tasted like.