Read Online Royal Brit Bastard: a badboy stepbrother romance by Alice May Ball - Free Book Online Page B

it burned down sir. There was an incident when Lord Wimbush last visited, seven years hence. ‘An entirely carbonized conflagration,’ I believe the fire marshall said was.”

    We both stared at him with our mouths open. Eventually Roger said, “So, the armoire burned in the hall.”

    Whithers cocked his head to one side and said, “Ah, no, young master. The armoire was out being French polished at the time, so it wasn’t in the Trellis Hall.”

    “So it survived!”

    “It did survive that fire, yes, young master.”

    “So where is it now?”

    “The armoire, young master?”

    “Yes, Whithers, the armoire. Where is it now.”

    “Well, it was out in the old stables workshop, young master. For the French polishing so I suppose that it’s still there.”

    “You suppose?”

    “Technically, yes. That is where I would suppose that it was.”

    “Well, has no-one looked?”

    “Well, not really, young master, no, sir. Because the old stables workshop burned down also.”

    “With the armoire still inside.”

    “Alas, young master, that has been the supposition.”

    “You don’t know for certain?”

    “No, young master. The entire building and its contents were …”

    Roger jumped in, impatient, “Carbonized, Whithers?”

    “In their entirety, sir, yes.”

    “Damn. What awful luck.”

    “That was what Lord Wimbush said himself. Only the odd thing was, he said it when he learned that the armoire had survived the fire in the Trellis Hall.”

    “Was that before or after the fire in the old stables workshop?”

    “Ah, now you put your finger on another peculiarity, young master. The fire in the old stables was the very night after Lord Wimbush learned the good news of the armoire having survived the fire in the Trellis Hall.”

    We shook our heads together as Whithers left us to enjoy the library, the port and the cognac. I said, “But it’s very mysterious, don’t you think?”

    Roger’s head shook, “Almost as though the fires were chasing the old armoire.”

    “And all the papers, lost.”

    “‘Entirely carbonized’ I believe.”

    “Quite. ‘In the conflagration.’”

    Whithers was approaching with two cookies on a silver tray. “I do hope you will pardon my intrusion, young master, but I chanced to overhear what it was that you just said. Now, it’s none of my business, I know, and Lord Wimbush if he were here, he   would tell me in short order to mind my place and manners, and to keep my nose out of it, so maybe I would be speaking out of turn, young master.”

    “About, what, Whithers?”

    “Papers, young master. Did I hear you correctly or   did I misconstrue, but were you not referring to some papers?”

    “Ah, yes, Whithers.” Roger poured some more port, and added a generous measure of cognac. “The papers that were lost in the old armoire.”

    “Well, no, I don’t believe that there were any papers lost in the old armoire, young master.”

    “Alas, Lord Wimbush had put some family documents there for safe keeping. A set of papers that were concealed inside.”

    “I don’t believe that they were in the armoire.”

    I said, “They were hidden, Whithers, fatefully as it turns out, in a secret compartment.”

    “Oh, I know exactly what you mean, Miss. But they weren’t there in the fire.”

    I said, “How do you know?”

    “Well, I took them out. Wouldn’t have been any good with French polish all over them. Have you seen a piece of paper that’s had French polish spilled on it?”

    Roger said, slowly, “No.”

    “Unreadable. Absolutely useless.”

    I said, “So where are they?”

    “They’re on the mantlepiece.” We all looked up at the mantlepiece. “Behind the clock.” said Whithers.

    “Wait,” Roger said, “Did Lord Wimbush know about that?”

    “About the papers, sir?”

    “Yes, Whithers.”

    “Well, I don’t believe that he ever asked, young master.”

    Whithers reached up behind the clock and pulled out a