“Likely not,” Vivi said. “I think that when Blackmoor returns from the hall, we should sit our fathers down and discuss our next steps.”

“Agreed.”

Ella nodded, then pulled a familiar volume from her reticule, saying, “Well, I can cross one next step off of our list. I spent much of last evening reading A History of Essex. And guess what I discovered.”

“What?” Alex leaned forward, hoping for a major revelation.

“Absolutely nothing. Aside from the fact that Essex has a thoroughly uninteresting history.” She placed the book on the table between them.

Alex lifted the book and ran her fingers over the embossed letters on its cover. “I gave the earl’s copy back to Blackmoor. Where did this copy come from?”

“Your father’s library. It’s incredible to me that there isn’t a house in the county that doesn’t have a copy of this exhaustively boring book. Even more so that the earl would have used it for his last missive.”

“Perhaps it had something to do with his love of the land,” Vivi suggested.

Ella shook her head. “Perhaps, but it simply seems too random. There has to be a reason he chose this book.”

The two girls continued their hypothesizing as Alex turned the book over and over in her hands, reviewing the last few days in her mind, trying to remember everything she could about the book and where they had found it. Ella was right. This was not random. Yes, it had been luck that they had found it…but it was no accident that caused the earl to choose that book to carry his final words. What was special about a book that could be found everywhere?

Ella’s voice echoed in her mind, There isn’t a house in the county that doesn’t have a copy. As the words turned over in her brain, she remembered Gavin saying the same thing—Every household in the county must own a copy.

“That’s it!” Alex exclaimed, her voice filled with astonishment. She looked up at her friends, both of whom were wide-eyed. “The earl didn’t choose the book because it was so close to his heart. He chose it because every house has a copy! It’s not the volume in London that has the information. There must be a second copy at Sewell Hall!”

The words came in a flood of anxiety. The book held the information that would damn Montgrave and Lucian Sewell and save Blackmoor. She had to get to it—and to Blackmoor—before anyone else did. With the men set to arrive that evening, before dinner, she had only a few hours to do so. She stood from the table, so quickly that she toppled her teacup, leaving Vivi to right it for her. “I have to find Blackmoor. Now.”

Ella stood. “We will help you.”

Alex shook her head. “No. This, I have to do alone. I don’t know what will be in that book but, whatever it is, it is bound to upset him. He has to face that without an audience.” She clasped Ella’s hands, looking from her to Vivi. “Help me by keeping my mother off the scent? Again?”

“Because we were so excellent at doing so the last time,” Ella pointed out wryly.

Alex smiled quickly, already moving toward the steps that led down into the gardens. “Thank you! I shall be back soon—with Blackmoor in tow.”

They watched her go, rushing through the garden and down the long, sandy path, which led through a field of bright yellow cowslips that separated the Stafford and Sewell lands. “She’ll be ruined if she’s not careful,” Ella said.

“Nonsense. He’d wed her in a heartbeat if he thought she’d have him,” Vivi replied.

“Quite.”

A half an hour later, Will, who had been waylaid on his walk back from waking his brothers, rejoined them. He picked up his newspaper and bowed low to the girls, saying, “I’m afraid I must take my official leave. It seems a carriage has broken an axle on the main road and it falls to me to play rescuer.”

“We shall miss your company, my lord,” Vivi offered with a smile.

“And I yours,” he returned. “My brothers will be down shortly, however, to entertain you until they are required to entertain the early guests.”

“Are there guests here already?” Ella asked, curious.

“Indeed. The Baron Montgrave has arrived, but he has plans to visit Sewell Hall this afternoon, he says.”

Vivi’s sharp intake of breath was followed by Ella’s quick response, “Why the hall?”

Will, who was pulling on his calfskin gloves and clearly distracted by the task he was about to undertake, shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “I do not know. I imagine because Sewell has arrived early as well.”

Both girls shot up from their seats at his words, the concern in their expressions shocking Will from his preoccupation. He asked sharply, “What is it?”

“I think we had better speak to your father,” Vivi said, fear in her voice.

twenty-three

Alex pushed open the door to Sewell Hall and rushed inside, breathing heavily and wishing she hadn’t worn her corset stays quite so tight this morning.

“Vanity be damned,” she huffed to herself. “Loveliness will do me no good with Blackmoor if I drop dead from lack of air before he sees me.” She had been so eager to get to the hall, to find the book and Blackmoor, that she had run the entire way—something she hadn’t done since she had spent her childhood rushing about the heath, traipsing after the boys she so revered.

The hall was quiet and dark. Blackmoor had clearly not alerted his staff that he was coming this morning, so they were nowhere to be seen. She preferred the house this way, for it would give her a chance to find the book and find him without having to explain her visit or to risk being caught by anyone.

She had thought to find Blackmoor immediately but altered her plan once she arrived at the house, heading instead for the library to find the book. Somewhere in the dark recesses of her mind, she was reluctant to leave the volume unfound any longer than absolutely necessary. She paused just inside the front door, listening for any movement or conversation. Hearing nothing, she moved quietly across the central foyer of the hall, entered the library, and began her search.

The Sewell Hall library was designed for readers. Warm and cozy despite its high ceilings, the bookshelves inside the enormous room were filled to the brim with enough leather-bound volumes to make the space feel intimate. For generations, the Earls of Blackmoor had prided themselves on their literary appreciation. Alex could vividly remember Gavin’s father holding her on his lap when she was knee-high and telling her tales from Shakespeare and Homer and Greek and Roman mythology.

Even now, years later, there were moments when she could hear the rich tenor of his voice alluding to Cupid and Psyche when she became too curious, or to Much Ado About Nothing’s Beatrice when she was becoming obviously headstrong. She breathed deeply, the memories flooding her as she inhaled the scent of the well-loved and well-cared-for inhabitants of this room—the aroma of oiled and leather-bound books.

Ordinarily, she would have spent her first few minutes in the room wandering aimlessly through the maze of shelves, marveling at the way the high windows were constructed to let just enough sunlight in for dust to dance in the rays without the light harming the books. But today, she had no time to dally.

The earl had always been thoroughly organized in regard to his library—the books were sorted by genre, then by title. All Alex had to do was find the collection of books on the county history and she would discover that for which she was searching. She began poring over the shelves, pausing only long enough to identify the topic covered by the collection of books she was looking at—science, medicine, poetry, the classics of Shakespeare and Chaucer—she found the history collection quickly, running her fingers over the spines of books on the Far East, the Americas, the European continent, and, finally, British history with a whole collection of titles on the various counties in Britain. She crouched down to see them all clearly—identifying several volumes on Essex, but not the one she was looking for. She was certain her theory was right and the earl had a second copy of the book. Blowing back a lock of hair from her face, she spoke aloud to the empty room, “Where is the blasted thing?”

Perhaps he’d hidden it? Or, worse, perhaps he hadn’t had the time to leave his final message. Perhaps he was killed before he could complete the task.

“No.” Alex shook her head in frustration and sat on the floor, pulling books off the shelf one by one, opening them and running her hands across the endpapers, checking to see if he’d left his next missive in a different title. The stack of books on the floor by her side grew as she searched through the collection. When she had emptied the shelf on Essex, she sighed down at the pile she had made, wondering where else she could search. She looked back at the shelf in disappointment and there, hidden behind the other books, was a small volume bound in rich green leather. She knew the title before she looked closely at the book…A History of Essex.

Her heart pounding, Alex opened the cover, knowing with absolute certainty that she was about to find what she had been looking for. Looking down at the volume, she gasped. The book had been hollowed out and a stack of papers were tucked inside. She pulled them from their hiding place and was about to read them, when she realized that they were not her secrets to uncover. They were secrets that belonged to the Sewell line—to the Earls of Blackmoor. She had to find Gavin.

She burst from the room at a dead run, crossing the wide hallway, so intent on her mission that she didn’t pause before throwing open the study door and rushing into the room. Gavin was sitting behind his desk, and she saw the surprise in his eyes at her entrance. She stopped just inside the door before exclaiming, “I found it! I found the information your father hid!”

It was only after she spoke the words that she noticed the harsh lines of his face, the clear tension in his mouth, and the anger in his eyes that had, for a fleeting moment, been replaced by shock at her presence. He was no longer looking at her. His gaze was fixed on a point behind her. She heard the door to the study close ominously and knew before looking that there was someone else in the room with them.

“Excellent, my dear girl. You are more intelligent than you appear, it seems.”

Alex spun around at the words, her spine straightening when she took in the entire scene. There, standing just to the side of the now closed door, was Lucian Sewell. He was holding a pistol. And it was pointed directly at her.

Reaching one hand out to her, he continued, “Why don’t you be a good girl and give the book to me, Alexandra? There’s no need to make this any more difficult than it needs to be.”

Alex looked back toward Blackmoor, but he did not take his eyes from his uncle, who spoke again, his tone vicious. “Don’t be a fool, Alexandra. The rules of this game are very simple. You give me the book or I kill you.”

This odious person had betrayed her country, murdered a man she adored, and was now threatening to kill her. She wasn’t going to do anything he asked of her. Not without a fight. She didn’t know where the defiance came from, but there it was, vivid and intense. “No.”

“Alex.” This time, it was Gavin who spoke. His tone brooked no discussion. “Give him the book.”

“No. I won’t.” She held the volume tighter to her chest, glancing back at Gavin, who still wasn’t looking at her. Turning back to Lucian, she met his eyes without fear. “You won’t kill me. You’d have my father and every man in the county looking to see you hanged.”

“You forget, child, that I am very good at making planned deaths appear accidental.” Sewell smiled, evil in his eyes. “How sad it would be if the two of you took yourselves off to the cliffs for a private moment only to tumble, tragically, into the sea.”

“I imagine you believe that if a plan worked once, it will work

again?” Blackmoor asked.

Sewell’s smile turned into a vicious sneer as he replied, “It worked perfectly the first time; need I remind you that we wouldn’t be in this particular situation if you hadn’t been so reluctant to accept the circumstances of your father’s death.”

“So you admit it. You killed my father. Your own brother.”

“Those events were not in the original plan. Your father would still be here—very much alive—if he’d stayed out of my affairs. I never bothered him about the business of the estate…I fail to understand why he would think it acceptable to interfere in my life.”

“Perhaps because you were using his land to break the law?” Alex said smartly.

“Ah, so you have looked at the information my brother left in the book. Something will have to be done about that.”

“Actually, I haven’t read anything in the volume. It’s just a rather obvious scheme you’ve concocted. You can do what you want to me, but someone else will discover that you are selling secrets to the French. You cannot kill everyone.”

“Once I destroy that book, I will have no need of killing anyone else. And to be clear, I was selling information to the French. Now I’m selling it to anyone who wants to buy. With no money and no land on which to make money, I have little opportunity to be discerning.” He turned back to Alex and said, “Now give me the book, girl. I have no more patience for this conversation.”

“I will not.”

“And I will not ask again!” Lucian’s voice rose, filled with anger. Alex flinched in response as he lifted the pistol and began to pull the hammer back.

“No!” Gavin exclaimed, his voice heavy with emotion. “Give him the book, Alex. Please.”

At the sound of his voice, Alex turned back to him, witnessing the pain in his eyes for the first time. “Why, Gavin? This book holds all the information we need to link him to your father’s death. Why would I give it to him? Would you see him go free?”