Page 31 of The Duchess’ Little Miracle

“I have an engagement,” William said, reaching for his pocket watch and checking the time. “With Anthony. I will be gone a few days.”

In truth, the meeting with Anthony was far from a routine social call. They had finally tracked a potential lead regarding the anonymous blackmailer. But there was no reason to alarm Seraphina with unverified suspicions, not when they had only just arrived at the estate. Until he had concrete answers, it was safer kept to himself.

Seraphina’s brow furrowed as she walked over to his desk, stopping right in front of him. “An engagement? Your Grace, we arrived at the estate less than twenty-four hours ago. We have only just been married. Is it customary for a Duke to abandon his bride on her first full day at his home?”

William slipped his pocket watch back into his waistcoat, a smile spreading across his face. He rested his hands flat on the surface as he leaned toward her.

“Abandon you?” he murmured. “Are you telling me you expected something more... traditional?”

Seraphina blinked, taking a half-step back. “What?”

“What would you have us do during this period?” William asked, stepping around the desk and closing the distance between them with slow steps. “Would you prefer we spend the morning taking romantic strolls through the rose gardens? Sitting by the lake writing poetry? Should I arrange a picnic for two under the weeping willows?”

“That is not what I meant —”

“Or perhaps...” he continued, crowding her space until her back brushed against the wood paneling near the bookshelf. “...perhaps you envisioned us remaining secluded in our quarters, lost in wedded bliss?”

He caught the subtle hitch in her breath as he stepped into her space, his shadow falling over her in the morning light. The defiant lift of her chin faltered for the briefest moment. Then color spread to her cheeks in a warm, unmistakable flush.

“I... I merely meant that it looks improper,” she stammered, trying desperately to maintain her footing under his gaze. “To be seen in public when you only just got married. People might see through our charade.”

“Improper?” William teased, leaning in just a fraction closer, his hand resting on the bookshelf right beside her head. “You really don’t want me leaving the estate? Is there a particular custom you had in mind? A honeymoon, perhaps?”

Seraphina swallowed hard, looking up at him, her hands coming up to press against his chest to keep a fraction of space between them. “All right. All right, fine!” she huffed. “Go! Do whatever you want. I cannot stop you either way.”

William chuckled. He stepped back, releasing her, and straightened his coat with triumph.

“I am glad we understand each other,” he said smoothly, walking back over to his desk to retrieve his satchel and gloves. He turned to look at her one last time. “You’re not tied down to obligations and society’s expectations, Seraphina. It’s not as though this is a real marriage.”

He turned away and began making his way toward the door, glancing back just in time to see her smoothing down the front of her gown aggressively. She threw a glare at him, though the rapid flutter at the hollow of her throat gave away just how thoroughly he had shaken her.

“Do try not to destroy any more of my property while I am away, Seraphina,” he added.

“I cannot promise anything,” she retorted and crossed her arms.

William turned on his heel and strode out of his study, leaving the tension of the room behind as he made his way to meet Anthony and face far less pleasant matters.

“This is feeling entirely like chasing our tails,” Anthony groaned, pulling his horse to a halt as the small stone lodge came into view through the oaks. He adjusted his gloves, his jaw set in a grimace that had only deepened over the past four agonizing days. “We have scoured three separate properties, sifted through dusty ledgers until my eyes are nearly bleeding, and for what? To confirm that your family’s caretakers are exceptionally good at keeping inventory?”

William dismounted without a word. The fatigue of the road clung to his limbs, but the unrelenting knot in his chest kept him moving.

“We have eliminated three locations, Anthony,” William said, his voice clipped as he took the reins. “That is not chasing tails. That is narrowing the field.”

“It feels remarkably like the same thing when the sun is setting and we are no closer to an answer,” Anthony muttered, swinging down from his saddle. He fell into step beside William as they led their horses toward the cottage nestled on the edge of the estate grounds. “Let us recap the brilliance of our progress. No missing estate papers, no stolen seals, and not a single lock picked across half of Hampshire.”

He paused, turning his head to scrutinize William’s face. “Which brings me back to the theory you so casually dismissed at the inn last night. What if the person writing these blasted letters doesn’t actually possess a family crest at all? What if it is a clever forgery?”

“It is not a forgery,” William said flatly, not breaking his stride.

“How can you possibly be so certain?” Anthony pressed, quickening his step to keep pace. “A skilled engraver could easily mimic your crest well enough to fool an unsuspecting eye.”

“Who would dare? And for what? It makes far more logical sense for the blackmailer to possess both the paper and the mark together,” William replied. “One without the other leaves too much to chance. If you had known my father as I did, you would not find the existence of a stray crest plausible.”

Anthony frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means my father was extraordinarily generous and far too indiscriminate with whom he allowed into his inner sanctum,” William said. “He handed out tokens, favors, and access as though his title were a common trinket. There is no telling how many people he allowed close enough to touch his private desk over thirty years.”

Anthony shook his head. “Even if that were true, how could anyone be reckless enough to use a duke’s name and mark so blatantly? Is this person trying to expose themselves? Or is the use of your crest meant to throw us off the scent entirely?”