Her Wicked Highland Spy (The Marriage Maker #10)(28)

Bridget studied Fiona’s distressed countenance. Was that the source of the girl’s keen gaze, a life already filled with too much knowing? “I didn’t realize Papa had kept them.” Undoubtedly, her father had assumed Bridget would see them returned, the task passed to her even though he hadn’t permitted her final say in hiring the maid. At least he’d let her interview candidates with him. “Your mother is correct, your letters of reference are your own, and very important.”

Fiona nodded, eyes wide. She pulled her hands away from her mouth. “So, I may have them?” she whispered.

“Certainly, you may.” Bridget crossed to stand behind her father’s desk. She shot Fiona, who’d turned to watch her, a hard look. “You didn’t search the correct drawer is all.” Bridget pulled it open and leafed through the pages.

Not finding the girl’s letters of reference, Bridget took the pages out and sorted again, nearer the candle, to no avail. She shook her head. They simply weren’t there. She put the stack back in the drawer.

She looked up to find Fiona watching with keen, watery eyes. “I can’t seem to find them.”

“You mean, my letters are gone?” Fiona squawked.

Bridget frowned. “I’m sure Papa put them in the wrong drawer.” Perhaps that was the real reason behind his forgetting to return them. “I’ll ask after them first thing. For now, let me write you a letter to give your Mama, so she won’t have at you with a rolling pin.”

“But you can’t ask Lord Sollier, Miss,” Fiona pleaded. “He’ll think I don’t trust him, or I’m complaining, and he’ll let me go without a reference.”

“But if I don’t ask him where he put them, you’ll have no references at all,” Bridget pointed out.

Fiona nodded miserably, ringing her hands.

Bridget felt a stirring of pity for the girl, for her father’s temper was often uncertain. “How about, instead of asking Papa, I make a search myself in the morning? I’ll do it quite early, and excuse you from your morning duties, so you can take either my letter or your references to your Mama.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Miss,” Fiona said, her hands stilling.

“Now, come along. We both need sleep.” Bridget circled back around the desk. She lifted the candle and handed it to Fiona, who took it with a steady hand. Arm outstretched, Bridget ushered the maid from the room to the sound of the girl’s babbled thanks.

Bridget didn’t immediately go to bed. Instead, she retrieved the key to her father’s office and locked the door. She always woke earlier than he did, so it shouldn’t inconvenience him, and she would sleep better with the key under her pillow.

She was very surprised, the following morning, to find Fiona’s letters of reference right where she’d sought them the night before.