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“What is it?”
“Wesley and I laid a trap earlier, and I only just remembered. It was meant to end the secrecy. We wrote a letter to the anonymous admirer asking them to meet me before dinner in the conservatory tomorrow and left it for them to find on the mantel. Nell…I cannot see it.”
“Then they have taken the bait.”
“It appears so.” Millie checked the desk, dressing table, and mantel, but her letter was gone. She turned back to face her friend. “The trouble is that we placed it directly before coming to the pond to skate, and I recall seeing it when I returned.”
Nell drew in a gasp. “Someone was in here?”
Millie nodded. “While I was sleeping.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Miss…uh…Millie!” a woman’s voice rang out.
Millie paused on the main staircase and looked up. The last dregs of sunlight hazily appeared through the windows, signaling the close of the day. Clara, the housemaid she had spoken to a few days ago, stood on the landing at the top, her blonde curls tucked into her white cap, her apron an utter mess. They really ought to put someone else on the fireplaces.
“Good evening,” Millie said, returning to the top of the staircase.
Clara smiled kindly, stepping back into a small alcove. “I have information regarding your questions.”
Millie hurried to her side. “Yes?”
“There are a number of floral wax stamps in the house. Lady Dalmeer purchased them specifically for the guest chambers.”
“I suppose that narrows it down ever so slightly.” The family rooms were now stricken from her list…but then again, her chamber was a guest room, and it had a seal with an elaborately designed D. Things could so easily be moved. “And the blue wax?”
“None of the servants had seen that before.”
“Therefore, whoever used it likely brought it with them?”
“I suppose so.”
“Thank you, Clara.” While the information had not narrowed down her list of possible suitors by any drastic measures, it did help. “I had hoped you would be able to tell me who used blue wax. But short of looking in every chamber…”
Clara brushed the back of her wrist over her forehead. “I clean some of them, but not every chamber.”
“Do you clean Mr. Kendrick’s room? And the younger Mr. Stroud?”
She looked wary. “I clean Mr. Kendrick’s room.”
Millie formed an idea so bold, she was not certain she should entertain it. But once she knew for certain who had written to her, she would know the full scope of the situation.
After the conversation with Nell the night before, Millie had struggled to fall asleep, her thoughts running through the evening and who could have dared to be so bold as to enter her chamber as she slept. To say nothing of Wesley—if she could love him, then what did the letters or their author even matter? The things that had been holding her back from admitting her feelings to Wesley felt trite in the wake of his sister’s full support.
No one in the world knew either Wesley or Millie as well as Nell did. She could be trusted, could she not?
Whether or not Millie considered the anonymous suitor seriously, she needed to know who was behind the letters if she wanted to feel safe within her room again.
“Will you look in his writing desk for blue wax?” she asked.
Clara hesitated. “I am not sure—”
“You must be in his chamber anyway to clean it.”
“Yes, but what if I am caught?”
“You could be tidying the space?”
