Page 52

Chapter One

“ L ittle kittens,” Anastasia Gibbs called loudly as she walked around the small rose garden at her family’s manor house. “Come, come, little ones!”

She paused, a small gust of wind stirring a tendril of her chestnut hair around her face as she listened for the soft meowing of the furry little beasts, but no sound greeted her save for the wind and the sound of her lady’s maid’s, Louise, huffed breaths as she walked toward her.

“I do not see them anywhere, My Lady,” Louise said as she approached, her voice filled with worry. “I could have sworn the little ones were out here not long ago.”

Anastasia turned to glance at Louise, her eyes roving over the woman’s round, matronly face as her own expression soured. Her brown eyes flickered back toward the manor house, toward the open window that glowed with candlelight in the dim evening sun.

“I have a suspicion there might be someone that could provide us with answers,” she mused, her voice dropping low as she glared at her brother’s study. “Come, Louise. I feel that my dearest brother has some explaining to do.”

“Oh, dear,” Louise muttered, her round cheeks flushing with color as Anastasia turned away from her and began crossing the grounds in long, assured strides.

Anastasia could hear the huffing and puffing of the other woman behind her as Louise struggled to keep up, and despite her hammering heart and her mounting rage, Anastasia slowed her pace.

The back gardens of their London house were small, and so, even with Anastasia matching Louise’s shorter strides, it did not take them long to reach the house once more.

She reached forward, pulled open the large, wooden door, and stepped inside.

Immediately, there was a flurry of activity by her feet as Mr. Taps, her small, wiry white dog, jumped excitedly at her feet.

Anastasia gave the dog an affectionate smile and stopped just long enough to give him a quick pat on the head before turning back to Louise.

“I will go talk to him myself,” Anastasia said, knowing that whatever was about to happen between her and her brother, it was not going to be pretty. “You know how he can get. Will you watch Mr. Taps?”

Louise’s brown eyes widened at the thought, and she nodded vigorously, causing one of her black and silver curls to fall free from the tight bun at the nape of her neck.

“We will wait for you in the music room,” she explained before turning and striding out of the room. She gave one long, low whistle, and immediately, Mr. Taps was trotting along after her, his fuzzy ears bouncing until he finally disappeared from view.

Anastasia turned, feeling the absence of the woman beginning to weigh on her immediately.

Louise had worked for her family for longer than Anastasia could remember, and she had always found comfort in her maid’s presence.

She had stood as a mother to her when both her parents had died.

But during something such as this, something that had to do with confronting Thomas, she knew that it was something she must go at alone.

She steeled herself by straightening her spine, and she began to march forward.

Her heels clicked against the polished wooden floor as she made her way through the house, the portraits of her noble family watching her with wary eyes as she passed.

When she made it to her brother’s door, she took another long, deep breath before bringing up her fist to knock on it.

“Who is there?” her brother barked from within the room, sounding just as cruel as usual.

“It is me,” Anastasia called back.

She did not wait for him to welcome her in.

In fact, she rather doubted that he would at all.

So, instead of giving him the opportunity to turn her away, she placed her hand on the cold, wrought iron doorknob and turned it.

It opened with a great creak that bounced off the walls and the ornate rugs, and Thomas’s head snapped up in fury.

“I did not tell you that you could enter,” he chastised, his black eyes narrowing on her menacingly.

“Where are my kittens?” Anastasia demanded, dismissing his words entirely. “Louise said she saw them outside this morning, and now, they are gone. What have you done with them?”

“Perhaps they have run off somewhere.” Thomas waved a slender, milky hand in the air dismissively. “Kittens tend to do that, you know. You think you would have figured that out by now with how many strays you have brought home over the years.”

He hurled the word ‘strays’ at her as if it were an insult. As if the fact that she had a kind heart that overflowed with love for animals was something that she should be ashamed of. And the accusation of it made her bristle even further.

“They are not big enough to wander far on their own,” Anastasia fired back, her own brown eyes narrowing on the man before her. “Especially not all of them going far enough that we cannot find them anywhere. So, I will ask again, what have you done with them?”

Thomas just glared at her; his already thin lips pinched in disapproval as he did so.

Fire roared in Anastasia’s belly, and she could not believe that she was related to someone so cruel and despicable as the man currently sitting behind the desk.

Growing up, she had always known that her brother had evil in his soul, but ever since their parents had passed away a few years ago, that evil seemed to have reached entirely new heights.

She wished that the world could see Thomas for how cruel he was.

Half the time, Anastasia fantasized about yelling it from the rooftops, but despite her feelings that he did not deserve the title, Thomas was still the Earl, and it would not do her any favors to speak ill of him outside the four walls of her home.

Her eyes landed on something on his desk.

It was a clay mug, and from where she was standing, she could just barely glimpse the dark liquid inside.

An idea struck her, and an uncharacteristically feral smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

She marched forward, her brother’s eyes watching her with unconcealed disdain, and she snatched the mug from his desk.

“What are you—” Thomas began, but Anastasia immediately cut him off.

“Tell me where they are,” she demanded, holding the mug high over the desk where the documents he had been working on were all strewn about. “Or I will pour this coffee all over your ledgers and your letters. I have a feeling that would set you back at least half a day, would it not?”

“You would not dare.” Thomas narrowed his eyes at her, but he was not entirely able to hide the fact that worry had now leeched some of the color from his cheeks.

“Won’t I?” She arched an eyebrow at him, tipping the mug quickly so that the black liquid inside darted toward the rim.

Her brother’s eyes widened with shock as the coffee crept ever closer, almost spilling out, before he threw up his hands in defeat.

“Fine,” he yelled, pushing back the heavy wooden chair from the desk and standing. “I had one of my men take the box of the stupid, wretched things and drop them off in town. There is no need for them here.”

“Where in town?” Anastasia demanded, not lowering the mug.

Her brother’s chest heaved in anger.

“You should not be worried about bloody kittens or any animals for that matter,” Thomas spat at her. “You should be trying to find yourself a husband, not bringing home every wretched animal you come across.”

“Where. Are. They?” Anastasia demanded again, pronouncing each word harshly.

To drive home the point that she meant every word she had said, she tilted the coffee mug a little bit more.

A large drop of it tumbled over the edge, spilling onto the table below.

It splattered on the one spot on the desk where no parchment currently sat, but the moment it hit the wood, it began to spread.

Quick as a flash, Thomas whipped a kerchief from the pocket of his breeches and began mopping it up.

“The park near Bartleby’s,” he roared, not looking up at her as he worked to ensure all his documents remained unharmed. “He left them in a box by the damned gambling club.”

“That was not so hard, now, was it?” Anastasia drawled, a small smirk of triumph dancing along her plump lips as she righted the mug and set it back on the desk.

She turned away from him, trying to make it out of the office before Thomas said anything else, but it turned out, she would not be that lucky.

“I forbid you to go in search of those bloody cats,” Thomas called after her. “You are not to take the carriage or any horses. If you are hellbent on not acting like a lady of your station, you will not receive the resources of one.”

She paused for a moment, wanting to fire back at him, but then she shook herself.

If what Thomas said about the kittens was true, and she had no doubt that it was, they were running on borrowed time, and she would need to get to them soon.

So, she strode out of the room without so much as a backward glance, her steps echoing once more as she made her retreat.

She found Louise and Mr. Taps exactly where the woman had said they would be in the music room. What Anastasia had not expected, however, was for Louise to be dusting while the dog spun in circles around her heels.

“Louise,” Anastasia hissed, making the other woman jump with a start, “he told me where he had one of those terrible men of his take them. We are going to get them back home right away—he will not let us take the carriage.”

Louise’s eyes widened, and she cast a glance toward the front windows of the house that looked out toward the streets of London. The light outside had almost entirely waned as the sun began to tuck itself away for the night.

“My Lady, it will be full dark soon,” the older woman cautioned, her dark brows knitting together in concern. “Perhaps we could get them in the morn’?”