Page 47

“This bookshelf didn’t fall on its own,” Blake said, inspecting the area where it once had stood.

“It was pushed—conveniently, I might add.” He tilted his head up toward the balcony that wrapped around the room, its shadowed shelves looming like sentries.

“Our ghost likely staged this little accident from up there.” Blake cast the room a look, his steely gaze defying the humorous tilt to his lips.

“I suppose this is the part where we reconsider our evening plans?”

“For once, Mr. Blake, I actually agree with you.” Tony groaned as they started toward the library door.

They made their way out of the room, the oppressive silence following them like a shadow. Grace cast a look back the way they’d come. Why was Lillias’ intimate bracelet in the castle library? And why would someone try to hurt them over it?

As they descended the stairs, the faint prickle of being watched raised the hairs on Grace’s neck.

She couldn’t shake the sensation, and the implications churned in her mind like a storm.

If the clues added up, only two people could be behind this—and both were willing to kill to get what they wanted.

The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of a single oil lamp, its wick turned low to keep the light from spilling under the door to Zahra’s adjoining room.

After helping Tony to his bed to convalesce, Blake had claimed an armchair in their room and lounged with his head tipped back, looking every bit like a man who had earned a moment’s respite after narrowly avoiding being flattened by airborne furniture.

The fire crackled softly in the bedroom hearth, its warm glow painting flickering shadows on the walls and giving the welcome sense of safety they’d lacked only half an hour before.

Frederick sat on the small couch nearest the window, one leg stretched out and an arm draped casually over the armrest. His gaze, however, was fixed on the dark silhouette of the castle in the distance.

The room was quiet save for the occasional pop of a log in the fire, the three of them lost in their own thoughts, he supposed.

Though Blake looked like he might be asleep.

He stole a glance at Grace, who was removing her jacket after checking on Zahra.

Despite her composed exterior, Frederick knew her well enough to recognize the slight tension in her shoulders.

She had been too close to that falling bookshelf.

His stomach tightened at the memory of the chaos—the crash, the dust, the instant terror of imagining her crushed beneath it.

She hadn’t been, though. Thank God. His Grace always ended up right where she should be in moments like that—safe, with him.

The knot in his chest loosened just slightly at the thought.

If their marriage had taught him anything, it was that his strength had limits.

And he had to trust the people he loved most to the one who loved them more.

Blake broke the silence, his eyes still closed. “If tonight has taught us anything, it’s that libraries are far more dangerous than I previously gave them credit for. And I gave them plenty of credit.”

Grace flashed Blake a grin as she settled next to Frederick on the couch, tucking herself into his side. He instinctively shifted to wrap his arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer, the warmth of her body a welcome contrast to the lingering chill of the events of the evening.

“Very dangerous and wonderfully intriguing, all at the same time,” Grace added, teasing.

“Ah, yes,” Blake murmured from his chair. “Like women.”

Grace let out a quiet chuckle, and Frederick gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, glad to have her safely at his side.

“Do you think Lady Blair knew who we were?” Grace asked. “Or recognized Tony?”

“I can’t say,” Blake replied. “But from the distance and the moonlight, I’d wager she wouldn’t have recognized Tony. However, I’m certain she and her brother knew exactly who we were.”

Grace leaned her head back against Frederick’s shoulder, the scent of rosemary and mint from her hair filling his lungs with another reminder of her safe place beside him. He brushed a kiss against her hair and noticed the book she held on her lap.

“What have you there?’

“It’s a book I found in the library authored by Alistair Blair,” she said, turning the cover so he could see it. “But I don’t believe it is exactly what it appears to be.”

“That’s not ominous at all, darling,” Frederick said with a wry grin.

Her smile widened, and she leaned in to brush a quick kiss against his lips—nothing more than a fleeting brush, but enough to send warmth through him. He was just about to make a remark when Blake’s voice interrupted.

“Fair warning,” Blake said, not bothering to open his eyes. “I am not asleep.”

Grace opened the cover of the book, and her fingers paused over the hollowed-out center. A secret compartment? Frederick’s gaze sharpened as she slowly revealed a folded letter tucked inside.

“Frederick, do you think it’s the will?” she whispered, unfolding the page with delicate fingers only to reveal a short missive in some calligraphic hand.

If you’re reading this, I am likely dead.

“Well,” Blake squinted over at them, sitting up straighter in the chair. “That’s quite the opening gambit.” He waved toward her. “Do continue.”

I have long suspected my wife of marrying me for my wealth and nothing more.

But she’s developed an unhealthy curiosity about the estate, the coal mines, and any other resources of Mosslea.

I’ve grown to mistrust her and am suspicious that she’s taking some of the family jewels I’ve kept protected along with generations before me.

If I am gone, I pray the next Blair can make Mosslea more secure than I was able to, but perhaps there is still time for me to change the course of the estate’s future. I hope it is not too late.

Frederick took the letter from Grace and examined it, then handed it to Blake. “His signature is here, with a date from four months ago,” he said. “Not long before the man was found drowned.”

“Our first real proof, I believe.” Blake said, waving the letter in his hand. “But not enough. As far as the village knows, Lady Blair drowned along with her husband, so we have to catch her to prove this.”

“It’s a breadcrumb, at least.” Frederick offered. “And if there’s this, there has to be more.”

“But what about Lillias’ bracelet?” Grace turned to Frederick. “She toured the castle with Mr. Kane yesterday, but it doesn’t seem accurate that she would have dropped her bracelet there and left it without notice. Not that one.”

Blake stretched, his chair creaking slightly as he settled more comfortably. “Didn’t you mention that Lady Blair played at being the Dixons’ housekeeper?”

Frederick and Grace exchanged a quick look, and Blake continued, “If she had a penchant for jewelry, it wouldn’t be a stretch to think she took it.”

Frederick raised a brow, his mind already chasing down the implications. “And then left it for us to find? A message? A warning, perhaps? Someone carefully positioned it in just the right spot to be flattened by a bookshelf?”

Blake shrugged casually, stretching his arms above his head.

“Possibly. Or it could be something as simple as an accident. With all the chatter about a second will, it seems the Kanes might be rattling their cages a bit. And we all know how mistakes tend to slip through when the cage gets rattled.” He paused, eyes twinkling.

“Though, I’d rather our next clue not come with a side of airborne furniture. ”

Frederick tossed a look back to his cousin. “I’ll make sure to inspect every shelf before you’re near one again then.”

Blake grinned mischievously, dipping his head in an exaggerated bow.

“I’ll take that as a promise, old man.” He backed toward the bedroom door, adding over his shoulder, “By the by, I’ve got a bit of news.

A friend of mine has some further information on Mr. Kane.

I plan to meet with him tomorrow—hopefully he’ll shed some light on things. ”

“A friend?” Frederick tilted his head, narrowing his gaze as he looked at Blake more closely. “What sort of friend?”

Blake’s grin widened, and he theatrically doffed an imaginary hat. “Ah, you know. One of those sorts who seems to know everything about everything. Don’t worry, I’ll bring him around for tea—if we survive the next few days.”

With a wink, Blake slipped out the door, leaving Frederick and Grace alone once more.

“We’re running out of time, Frederick.” Grace looked up at him, searching his face.

“Not so much days, but time itself. It’s like a feeling, creeping in the air, as though if we don’t find that will soon, something worse will happen.

Something that will make sure neither Lillias nor I can ever claim our inheritance. ”

He pulled her back against him, her words reigniting his previous concern. “Let’s get some rest, darling,” he said quietly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Tomorrow, we’ll have answers. We must.”

Blake left after breakfast, declaring with great pomp that he had “urgent business” in a nearby town, which Grace strongly suspected translated to checking on their luggage and rendezvousing with his so-called friend.

She could only hope this mysterious acquaintance could provide them with further proof of Mr. Kane’s nefariousness.

Meanwhile, Frederick volunteered to take Zahra on a leisurely walk by the loch, which conveniently kept him near the gatehouse while Grace paid a visit to Mr. Locke.

Sleep had evaded her the night before, her mind stitching and unstitching the fraying threads of their mystery.

But despite all the uncertainty, one thing was sure: Mr. Locke knew far more than he’d let on about Lord and Lady Blair.

So with Frederick’s clever suggestion in mind, she needed to make wise use of her time with him.