Well, Quince thought, the note hadn't been as casual as he'd thought, then. Somehow he needed to severely curb the number of people who felt comfortable storming his room while he was trying to rest. "It seemed wise as I didn't sleep last night and had an engagement scheduled with the Earl of Harrington this evening." Gideon loomed over the bed and frowned. "You look like death. Are you ill?" The duke sat up and scrubbed his face with his hands. "Get out of my room, Gideon. Wait in the parlor. Or in the kitchen for all I care. I can't stand your hovering when I'm not yet awake." The earl looked displeased but nodded. "Downstairs, then. I'll be in the study." Quince sighed as his friend left the room. He might yet regret seeking Gideon's counsel, but what else was he to do? Sabre had deserted him. He didn't trust Robert. His own household staff was suspect after the way the notes had been delivered. Once downstairs he did, indeed, find Gideon in his study poring over his journals.
