Free Brenda Hiatt by A Christmas Bride

managed to be named one of the couriers, I believe we’ll have our evidence. ’Tis not the sort of thing he would seek, under normal circumstances.”
    “I’m afraid I don’t,” she replied, somewhat deflated. “But perhaps I could find out. The duke and my husband have been intimately involved in the planning for those talks. There may well be a list of the names about the house somewhere.”
    “I would not ask you to pry among their private papers, of course.” Teasdale looked faintly shocked. “Still, it would be a coup—for both of us—if we could expose Brockman before Wickburn and Vandover return, would it not?”
    Holly lifted her chin. “And so we shall. Of that I am determined.”
    “You must do whatever seems right to you, of course, Lady Vandover. But now, why do you not go to speak with some of the ladies? ’Twill not do if we are seen talking too long together—we would not wish to arouse Brockman’s suspicions.”
    B EFORE SHE went to bed that night, Holly glanced through the papers on the big desk in the study at Wickburn House. She saw nothing there that appeared to be the sort of list Teasdale had mentioned, however. Then she recalled that Hunt often worked late at night in his own chambers, at the smaller desk he had there. Perhaps that was where he would keep such a list.
    Camilla had already retired and Hunt’s valet had gone with him to Lisbon, so Holly had no fear of interruption while she searched. Still, she felt more than a bit uncomfortable as she slipped into her husband’s chamber. Never before had she been in here without him present.
    For a moment, she vividly recalled her last time in this room, on the big, blue-draped bed with Hunt. A sudden longing for him shook her. What a greeting she would give him on his return! She would show him just how much he meant to her. Her eyes grew moist and her breathing rapid as she imagined it.
    Reluctantly, she pushed away such thoughts. She felt even more strongly now that she should not be here with Hunt away, poking into his things. For a full two minutes she held an internal debate with herself and finally came to a compromise. She would open no drawers, uncover nothing that wasn’t in plain sight. Surely anything left lying about where any servant could see it could not be too secret for her eyes.
    Her decision made, she quickly crossed to the desk in the corner. It was littered with papers, but she was careful not to touch them as she examined each one. Most appeared to be unrelated to Hunt’s work at the Foreign Office—bills from his tailor, old invitations and such. She was about to give up when she spied the word “Liaisons” at the top of a paper peeping out from beneath a theatre programme.
    Almost without thinking, she twitched the programme aside, to reveal a series of names, most of which were known to her. To her disappointment, Mr. Brockman was not among them. Still, she thought, the list might give Teasdalea clue of some sort. Telling herself again that anything left in plain sight could scarcely be considered private, she went to fetch a sheet of paper from her own chamber. Once she had copied the names onto it, she tucked it into the reticule she carried most often. She would give it to Teasdale at the next opportunity.
    That opportunity occurred less than a week later, at the theatre. She and Camilla had accompanied Lord and Lady Mountheath, along with a few others whom Holly personally found deadly dull. Reginald was the only person in the party near her own age, but having discovered that Lord Mountheath had once aspired to be a painter, Reggie eagerly recounted his own experiences at the Royal Academy to their host.
    The intermission was nearly over when Holly spied Mr. Teasdale. He was surrounded by a group of young bucks who were plainly enjoying themselves immensely, and she wished she might be a part of that group instead. He saw her at the same moment and excused himself from his fellows to greet