Genevieve and Richard bolted toward the storeroom the moment they caught wind of the disaster.
The sight that greeted them—gaping doors and barren chests—hit Richard like a physical blow. His knees buckled, darkness creeping at the edges of his vision.
"What in God's name happened here?"
Genevieve pressed her hand against her chest, her face draining of color. "Everything was secure yesterday. How could thieves have gotten through?"
She whipped around to face the cowering servants. "Speak up! Who's responsible for this?"
The servants huddled together, terror rendering them mute.
Genevieve marched straight to the elderly maid who'd been assigned guard duty, jabbing an accusing finger at her trembling form.
"Answer me—who was supposed to watch over this place last night?"
