Chapter FIFTEEN
Derek ripped open the letter that sat on the top of the stack of correspondence the butler had just delivered on a silver tray. A silver tray? Really? Would Derek ever get used to having his mail delivered that way? Wellington himself had given him the referral for the butler. Hughes was his name. The man had been nothing but exceedingly proper since Derek had hired him. The butler had seen to the hiring of the rest of the household staff and the furnishing of the fine town house, all in an effort to make the residence fit for a duke. Yes, everything was quite proper and in order. Only Derek felt like a counterfeit.
He sliced open the letter with the opener and ripped out the sheaves. Collin had only been gone a few days but he’d already sent a letter. Derek could only hope it contained good news.
Your Grace,
I hope this letter finds you well. I’ve got quite a good lead on the last known location of our group. It’s a small town in France. I’ll be traveling there over the next few days and hope to send good news once I find them. I visited Swift in Brussels. He’s not good, Derek. Not at all. He asked if you’ve become betrothed to Lady Cassandra yet. I told him you are in the process of doing just that. I didn’t tell him that Swifdon, Rafe, and Adam are missing. No use upsetting the man on his deathbed. Look for another letter soon.
Yours,
Collin
Derek crumpled the letter in his fist. He’d written Wellington and once again nearly begged the man to allow him to leave and help search for the others. The result had been the same as before. A decidedly pleasant yet solid no. Derek was needed here, should find a wife, settle down. Wasn’t Lady Cassandra Monroe a fine choice?
He’d nearly groaned in frustration, but orders were orders. Every military man knew that. All Derek could do was sit here and wait for Collin’s news. His brother would keep him informed. He could count on him.