Chapter Nineteen
By the time they’d brought Rhodes up to date, it was almost dinner time. Oliver went next door to change. His valet had a steaming pitcher of water ready, and a change of clothing laid out on the bed.
Oliver was tying his neckcloth when an urgent knock sounded on his door.
He paused, while his valet opened the door.
Monsieur Benoît stood in the corridor. He looked agitated. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Your Grace—”
“Is it Rhodes?”
“Yes, sir.”
Oliver threw aside the neckcloth and strode out into the corridor, ignoring the fact that he was in stockinged feet and shirtsleeves. “What is it?”
Benoît ushered him hastily into Rhodes’s bedchamber and closed the door.
Rhodes was standing in the middle of the room in his nightshirt. The bed was in a state of disarray, pillows
