Free Celeste Bradley - [Heiress Brides 02] by The Duke Next Door

his hand clench the perfect paper to a permanent crease.
    “Oh, no. Oh—oh—” There was no help for it. Only a curse would do at a moment like this! “Oh, blast! ”
    This roused Wolfe from his stupor as if the cast silver wolf’s head on his walking stick had just risen up and bitten him. His boots hit the floor and he rose to his feet in a not-as-smooth-as-usual motion. “What? What is it?”
    Stickley couldn’t breathe. “F—f—” He waved the letter frantically at Wolfe. “F—”

    Wolfe raised his walking stick. “Spit it out, Stickley!”
    “‘Full withdrawal’!” he gasped. “‘Immediately upon becoming the Duchess of Brookmoor’!”
    Wolfe went pale beneath his greenish hue and sank slowly back into his chair. “Oh.” He took a long breath. “Oh, hell! ”
    Stickley nodded hysterically. “Exactly! Precisely! Oh, Wolfe, what are we going to do? ”
    Wolfe gazed into the glinting silver eyes of his walking stick for a long moment. Then he raised his head slowly. “The poor thing,” he said silkily. He shook his head. “So she’s realized what it means to marry the Beast.”
    Stickley gazed down at the brief note, trying to divine its source. “You think she wants to leave him?” He blinked rapidly. “So soon? But why?” A chill went through him. “Do you think she’s afraid of him?”
    Wolfe let out a heavy sigh. “Can it be anything else? She must have discovered his true nature right away. She is desperate now, I’ll wager, afraid she’ll end up just like the first Marchioness of Brookhaven.”
    Stickley shifted, uncomfortable with such dark imaginings. “Then, if she is truly in danger,” he said slowly, “perhaps we ought to simply give her the money. It is rightfully hers, after all—or at least, it will be soon.”
    Wolfe nodded thoughtfully. “That might be a solution—unless he took control of it. Then she’d be helpless.” He spread his hands. “And who would stop him? He’s already gotten away with murder.”
    That had always been Stickley’s personal belief as well. “What are you suggesting?”
    Wolfe pondered the head of his walking stick. “I’m thinking … what if we do more for her? What if we
help her free herself from that dreadful marriage … permanently?”
    Stickley flinched at the hardness glinting in his partner’s eyes. He suddenly recalled those alarming moments during their last adventure when he’d been almost sure that Wolfe was contemplating … well, violence. “You don’t mean to—”
    Wolfe sharpened his faraway focus on Stickley’s pale face. The steely glimmer became shuttered and an easy smile took the place of the incipient snarl. “Don’t worry, Stick. I know exactly what to do.”
    Stickley shook his head, more worried than ever. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

Chapter Twelve
    Once Deirdre had eaten and dressed, she found herself at loose ends. There was nothing to do in Brook House. The household already ran smoothly. Other than seeking out the lost kitten, she had no plans for the day, or any day soon, so there would be no choosing of gowns or dressing of hair later.
    She steadfastly refused the compulsion to look for a partner in crime in Meggie, for the act smacked a bit too much of obeying his lordship’s edict that she raise his daughter. Besides, her ladyship had every right to inspect her new domain, after all. She would work her way from the cellar to the attic, she decided.
    Unfortunately, the cellar was extremely dull, consisting of a rigidly organized storage area for root vegetables and the even more immaculate kitchens, where she didn’t dare step foot.
    The public rooms of the house, the parlors and drawing rooms and music room, she knew well already. His lordship’s study remained a mystery, but Deirdre was not about to brave the Beast’s very den—especially when she remembered the way he’d gazed at her last night!
    She would have to face him sometime if she wished to wage her