Page 35 of My Disastrous Duchess (The Untamed Ladies #2)

“In her rooms,” Alexander said, having asked after his sister’s whereabouts the evening prior. “She refuses to speak to anyone, concerned for you above all else. But Margaret, you must not speak yet. Rest for now...”

He turned when the door behind him opened. Margaret’s maid appeared with clean linens. Alexander looked back at Margaret. Her eyes had closed again. He instructed the maid to remain with her, saying he would be back shortly.

The house was quiet in those early morning hours.

Alexander crossed the manor, hoping to locate the butler and call Burnside back to Somerstead to check on Margaret now that she had woken.

He took the servant’s stairs down to the basement, knowing the butler would be risen.

His steps echoed in the cold corridors down below, following him as he made his way to the butler’s room.

Voices emanated from within. He knocked on the door, signaling his presence, and was greeted by the surprised face of the butler once it opened.

“The duchess has woken,” Alexander said, peering into the room. A man sat in one of the chairs before the butler’s desk – the head groom. “You will send a rider for Doctor Burnside again. But first, what is going on here?”

The groom rose to his feet, wringing his hat between his hands. He was pale and alert, looking like he had not slept a minute that night. His breeches and riding boots were stained with morning muck, evidence that he had ridden in haste.

“John arrived with the dawn,” the butler said, stepping aside to admit Alexander.

“Your Grace.” John rose with caution and bowed. “I bring news... most terrible news... about Her Grace's saddle.”

Alexander’s breath caught. He stared at the groom.

“Explain yourself.”

“I suspected something had happened the moment we caught Thalia alone. Thalia has a strong spirit, but she’s never been aggressive and never thrown off her rider.

” John swallowed, brow knit. “When Thalia was brought back to the stables yesterday evening, I noticed something. We removed her tack, and what we found, Your Grace... It was burrs , stuck under the saddle pad, looking like someone had placed them there on purpose. The straps where the saddle fastens had been snipped and I think loosely restitched.”

Alexander looked at the butler, then back at John, a dark feeling washing over him. “You’re certain of this?” he asked.

“Yes, Your Grace. The stitching was rough but new, and the leather looked stretched, as though someone had loosened it deliberately.” John pointed to a folded handkerchief stained with grease, waiting on the butler’s desk. “I have it, came to show Mr. Collins and ask his thoughts.”

Alexander took the cloth when John extended it. The sabotaged straps had been removed from the saddle, and Alexander inspected them. The equipment looked compromised, just like John had said. He paused, picturing the scene of Margaret’s fall, none of it her fault or Thalia’s, and wincing.

“Her Grace was not alone,” Alexander said. “Miss Bell was riding with her. Was her horse sabotaged as well?”

“No, Your Grace. And I am wondering as well how this came to be.” John pointed at the tack. “We prepared Thalia for Miss Bell that morning, not Her Grace. They must have switched horses on the ride, or something else, because Miss Bell returned on Selene—Her Grace’s horse.”

“You mean,” Alexander muttered, “that someone intended Miss Bell to fall, not the duchess? Who was left alone with these horses? You are the head groom. How did you not notice what had occurred before you allowed my wife to ride to what might have become her death?”

John dipped his head. “You have no reason to believe me, Your Grace, as I cannot say anything beyond what I’ve seen.

We prepared the horses as usual and stepped away for ten minutes at most on errands before the ladies came down.

Later, Miss Bell returned with her horse in one piece.

But Thalia, and the poor duchess... Something must have happened in the woods.

Thalia, agitated by the burrs, then threw the duchess off.

I do not know who did it, but if it had been me, which it was not, I would not have come here this morning, would I? ”

Alexander’s pulse hammered. He clutched the cloth, hands tightening around the equipment, before casting it back on the desk.

He watched John carefully. The groom’s eyes darted to the closed door, fearful of others eavesdropping.

He was concerned but not guilty. Someone else had done this to Margaret, perhaps intended the victim to be Isadore.

Unless Isadore herself had planned the accident.

“Send for Miss Bell at once,” Alexander instructed the butler quietly. “And hold everyone this day. No one leaves the manor until they speak to me.”

Terror flashed across the butler’s face.

“But Your Grace...” Mr. Collins took a step back. “Miss Bell is away.”

“What?”

“She left last night with Mr. Hawthorne,” the butler said, voice trembling. “I thought you knew?—”

“Left?” Alexander paused, his anger mounting. “Left for where?”

“I could not say, Your Grace. Mr. Hawthorne asked for a carriage to be prepared, and they departed after dinner while you were with Her Grace.” Mr. Collins followed Alexander as he stormed out of the room, raising his voice to be heard.

“The driver returned in the night, saying they had been delivered safely to Salisbury.”

Alexander whipped around. “You are saying that Miss Bell was the only witness to the accident that almost killed my wife, and now she is gone ? And Mr. Hawthorne is gone with her?”

It made no sense—none of it.

Isadore could not have been capable of such a crime. And Bastian... It wasn’t even an idea worth considering.

But something has given them reason to flee.

And I must discover what it is once Margaret awakens.