Page 32 of The Duchess’ Little Miracle

William didn’t answer immediately. The thought had crossed his mind a hundred times during the long miles in the saddle. Every turn of the road brought the same loop of questions.

“That brings me to the question you keep adroitly dodging,” Anthony continued, dropping his voice as they approached the cottage entrance. “Who is this person, William? Who is being threatened?”

“It does not matter.”

“It does matter,” Anthony argued, exasperated. “I have spent four days riding across the country with you, sleeping in inns and interrogating housekeepers. After years of friendship, you might show me enough trust to tell me whose reputation we are risking our necks to save.”

William stopped just outside the garden archway, turning to face Anthony. “You know everything necessary to help me search. Knowing their identity changes nothing regarding the evidence. Drop it, Anthony. Let us finish the work.”

Anthony stared at him for a second, catching the look in William’s eyes. He threw his hands up in defeat. “Fine. Keep your tight-lipped mysteries. But if we find nothing here, I am dragging you back to Norwyn.”

Before William could respond, the door of the cottage creaked open, interrupting their conversation.

An elderly man with silvering hair and a gentle face stepped out onto the porch, wiping his hands on an apron. Beside him stood his wife, her eyes brightening the instant she recognized the tall figure standing at her gate.

“Your Grace!” Thomas Higgs exclaimed as he bowed, his face breaking into a wider smile. He hurried down the short stone path, his wife, Eleanor, fluttering close behind him. “Bless my soul, we had no idea you were coming to Oakhaven!”

“Good morning, Your Grace,” Mrs. Higgs chimed in warmly, curtsying. “Look at you! It has been far too long since you set foot in this house. Come in, come in out of the draft! Thomas, take the horses to the stable at once. I shall put the kettle on and slice some of the plum cake —”

“There is no need, Mrs. Higgs, though I thank you,” William said softly. He had known Higgs since he was a boy trailing behind his father on shooting trips. “We cannot stay long. I am only here on a matter of estate business.”

“Business?” Mr. Higgs paused, looking between William and Anthony with concern. “Is everything alright at the main house, Your Grace?”

“Everything is in hand,” William assured him, stepping inside the warm, wood-scented hall. “I simply need to inspect the inventory ledgers for this property. I am checking for any missing items, specifically anything bearing the family crest, and verifying that there have been no unauthorized visitors or break-ins over the past year.”

Mrs. Higgs looked astonished, resting a hand over her heart. “Break-ins? Here? Oh, heavens no, Your Grace. Thomas checks every lock and shutter every fortnight, rain or shine. Nothing has been disturbed.”

“I can fetch the delivery and removal ledgers right away, Your Grace,” Mr. Higgs offered eagerly, moving toward the small writing desk in the corner. “We keep strict account of everything that comes from the London house or leaves for the main estate. But... if I may ask, what has brought on such a worry?”

William exchanged a quick glance with Anthony. He had no intention of revealing Seraphina’s involvement or the intimate nature of the threat, but the Higgs were loyal, trusted servants who knew the estate better than anyone.

A carefully framed truth was necessary.

“Someone has been using my family’s crest to issue threats and blackmail,” William explained calmly. “I suspect whoever is responsible is connected to my father’s past. You both know better than anyone that during his time as Duke, he allowed many people access to his private quarters who perhaps should not have had such access.”

Mrs. Higgs sighed softly, exchanging a knowing look with her husband. “Aye,” Mr. Higgs said gently, careful to keep any disrespect out of his tone. “The late duke was... a very generous man, Your Grace. A vibrant man.” He paused, choosing his words with immense delicacy. “He did bring many guests to this cottage over the years. So many ladies... well, Mrs. Higgs and I lost count long ago.”

“I am aware,” William said, scanning the room. “In fact, I am of the opinion that this was his most favorite hideout.”

Mr. Higgs went quiet then, staring down at the floorboards as if searching his memory. He rubbed his chin, his brow furrowing deeper.

William noticed the shift immediately. “What is it, Thomas? What are you thinking?”

“Well...” Thomas hesitated, looking up at William. “It just brought back a thought, Your Grace. There was one lady. Many years ago now. She was different from the others the late duke brought down from London.”

William narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. “Different how?”

“She stayed much longer, for one,” Mr. Higgs recalled, his eyes scanning the room as the memory solidified. “Weeks at a time. She was clearly a lady of high standing, a proper lady of the ton, not like the... theatrical types he sometimes brought down. Proud. Kept to herself mostly. But I remember... I remember she wore his signet ring.”

Anthony perked up, taking a step forward. “His signet ring?”

“Yes, Your Grace. At least one of them,” Thomas said firmly. “I remember it clearly because she wore it quite openly, right on her finger, even down at the breakfast table. As though she wanted everyone in the house to see it. Like a trophy.”

William scoffed. “Are you certain it was his actual signet ring? The primary family crest?”

“I am nearly positive, Your Grace,” Mr. Higgs answered truthfully. “It had the Norwyn crest carved deep into it. Perhaps she still carries that ring.”

Anthony turned to William. “A ring like that... well, a person could easily press it into a document to sign or seal something on the Duke’s behalf if he permitted it.”