Page 54

Wesley felt relief, both on Helena’s behalf and because he would not be forced to deliver poor news. “Can she travel home next week?”

“Yes, but she will want to plan for more stops than typical.”

“No one in her family will have an issue with that.”

The doctor nodded. “Have a good day, young man.”

Wesley smiled. He felt anything but young. “Thank you. Shall I see you out?”

“I know my way around this house well. You needn’t trouble yourself.”

Wesley watched him leave before returning to Millie’s room. Her maid answered the door, and he relayed everything the doctor had told him.

“Miss Hollis is beginning to feel the headache the doctor warned her of,” Betty whispered. “She has taken the powders and intends to rest now.”

“Please find me if there is anything I can do.”

“Miss Hollis believes she will be well enough for dinner.”

Wesley chuckled. “Of course she does. She will more likely sleep through it.”

With nothing else to do, Wesley retrieved the wax stamp from his chamber and took himself off to the library to return it to its proper place. He had spent enough time wandering the corridors and wondering if Millie needed him. What she needed now was rest.

When he reached the library, he found the door propped open and stopped himself at the threshold. Mr. Kendrick sat at the writing desk, penning a note.

Good heavens, had he caught the man in the act?

If he could see the paper Mr. Kendrick wrote on, or obtain a view of the blue wax he planned to use to seal it, he might be able to finally confirm Millie’s secret admirer. From Wesley’s vantage point, it was impossible to see what was being written, and there was no wax upon the desk.

Wesley made up his mind and walked into the library, pulling the wax stamp from his pocket. “Good afternoon, Mr. Kendrick. Were you looking for this?”

“In fact, I was. You have it?” Mr. Kendrick asked, sitting back in the seat, his quill hovering over the paper. “I could not find it in the drawer earlier.”

“Does your chamber not boast a writing desk?” Wesley asked.

“It does, but I enjoy writing in here far more. It has the ambiance I need for my project.” He looked at the implement in Wesley’s hand. “Did your chamber lack a seal stamp?”

Wesley was careful not to lie. “I was only borrowing it.”

Mr. Kendrick took the stamp, setting it on the desk with a thud.

Wesley tried to peer at the letter he was writing, but the words covered the entirety of the page, and it looked nothing like a letter. No…it appeared as though the man was writing a story of some sort, for he noted distinct dialogue. Unless Mr. Kendrick was admitting his feelings in full through the use of a story, this was not one of the secret notes to Millie.

An odd sensation of disappointment swept through him, for he wanted the situation over with.

“I will leave you to it.” Wesley slipped from the room, closing the door behind him.

Millie woke with a pounding headache in a dark room. The fire burned low, not emitting much light, and none of the candles had been lit. It was probably too late for her to join the group at dinner. She sat up in her bed and leaned against the pillows, fighting a yawn as her stomach rumbled. A soft tapping sounded on the door. Perhaps that had been the thing which had awoken her.

“It is open,” she called.

Nell let herself in. “How are you feeling?”

Millie covered another yawn. “My head has suffered slightly, but I will surely feel back to myself by the morning.”

“Are you hungry? We have already had dinner.”

“Yes. Will you ring for my maid?”