Page 38 of Stolen By the Rakish Duke

“Dead?” Beatrice gasped.

“Note?” Leo stepped forward, his expression sharpening with interest. “What note?”

Lord Tillfield placed a restraining hand on his arm, a silent warning against intimidating the distraught young woman.

Beatrice guided Anna to sit on the edge of the narrow bed that occupied much of the small chamber.

“Perhaps you could start at the beginning,” she suggested, her voice gentle but firm. “Tell us everything that you can remember clearly.”

Anna drew a shaky breath, her fingers twisting anxiously in the fabric of her skirt. “It was the night before your wedding,” she began, her gaze fixed on Beatrice. “Philip came to see me atthe Gilded Lion, as he sometimes did. He would wait until my shift ended, and we’d talk in a small alcove near the kitchens where we wouldn’t be seen.”

Leo and the Marquess exchanged looks at the confirmation of their suspicions regarding Philip’s involvement with the establishment.

“That night, we stayed later than usual,” Anna continued. “Philip was upset about the wedding, even though he said you understood. He kept saying he wished things could be different, that we could just leave London together.”

Beatrice nodded encouragingly, though she felt Leo’s gaze settle on her with renewed intensity at this revelation.

“We were about to leave when we heard voices in the manager’s office—Mr. Reynolds and another man. The door was ajar, so we heard everything.” Anna’s voice dropped further, as though the very walls might be listening. “The other man… Philip recognized him immediately. Lord Westbury, he said. An earl, very powerful.”

“What were they discussing?” Leo pressed.

“Business,” she replied. “But not an ordinary gaming business. They spoke of shipments, payments to customs officials, and profits beyond anything legitimate could yield. Philip whispered to me thatthe Gilded Lionmust be a front for smuggling—perhaps worse.”

“And they saw you?” the Marquess inquired.

Anna shook her head. “We thought we’d escaped unnoticed. Philip walked me home and promised he’d find a way for us to be together properly once the wedding was over.” A fresh wave of tears spilled onto her cheeks. “But the next morning, I received this.”

From her bodice, she withdrew a folded paper, its edges worn from repeated handling. Beatrice accepted it gingerly, opening it to reveal a brief message written in an elegant hand:

Your services at the Gilded Lion are no longer required. Leave London immediately. Do not attempt to contact the Marquess of Mallingham again. Failure to comply will result in consequences far graver than mere dismissal.

It was unsigned, but the implicit threat was unmistakable.

“I was terrified,” Anna continued, her voice breaking. “I fled my lodgings that night and came here. I sent a friend to warn Philip, to tell him that I left, but when my friend returned…” She broke into another sob.

“What did he tell you?” Beatrice prompted gently.

“That it was too late,” Anna whispered. “Philip had vanished. No one knew where he’d gone. My friend said people were talking about him abandoning his bride at the altar, that there was a terrible scandal.”

Leo moved to the small window, his powerful frame silhouetted against the deepening twilight.

“So, Philip overheard something he shouldn’t have,” he summarized, his voice tight with controlled anger. “Westbury discovered this, threatened Anna, and Philip fled. Presumably to protect her as much as to protect himself.”

“But why not come to you?” the Marquess asked him. “Surely he knows you’d offer protection?”

“If Westbury is as deeply involved in criminal enterprise as Miss Finley’s account suggests,” Leo replied grimly, “Philip may have feared implicating anyone connected to him. Including you, Duchess.”

The use of her title rather than her name struck Beatrice as oddly formal, given the circumstances. Still, she recognized it as his instinctive retreat when confronted with emotional complexity.

Anna’s tears continued to flow, her slender frame shaking with barely suppressed sobs. Without hesitation, Beatrice moved to sit beside her on the bed, placing a comforting arm around her shoulders.

“We’ll find him,” she promised, though she had no certainty to offer beyond her own determination. “And we’ll ensure your safety as well.”

“How?” Anna asked, her tear-stained face contorting with desperation. “Lord Westbury is powerful and well-connected. If he discovers I’ve spoken to you?—”

“He won’t,” Leo interjected, turning away from the window. “Because you won’t remain here. The connection to your cousin is too easily traced.”

“Where would I go?” Anna asked, fresh panic edging her voice.