Carole’s heart pounded and her chest tightened alarmingly, but there was nothing to do but take his advice. Continuing to argue would only cast more doubt on her story, and she could not afford to be tossed out. Even if it meant limiting her search to a partial set of books whilst being silently judged by the Duke of Azureford.
Maybe this was a good thing, she told herself. Azureford would be so distracted by finding the bookshecared about that he wouldn’t notice her sketchbook if it bit him on the nose.
Then again, Azureford wouldn’t know which books in his collection were the ones to keep unless he was familiar with all of them. Which meant her strange little volume would stand out at first glance.
He spun toward her just as she whirled toward him.
“Let me help you find your earring,” he commanded at the same time she begged, “Let me help you with your books.”
They stared at each other without moving.
Carole blinked first.
“We need to document the inventory,” she babbled. “Surely you cannot mean to donate so many volumes without a master list to aid the castle librarians.” Did the castle have librarians? “At the very least, an index of titles and descriptions would do. I’ll help. I’m an expert on cataloguing books.”
Carole was not an expert on books. She owned thirty of them, half of which were tomes on mathematics and logic, and the other half of which were filled with drawings of her own creation. She was not even anapprenticeat cataloguing books. But she was desperate. And desperate people would clutch at every straw they could find.
“Like a ship’s cargo list in the captain’s log?” he asked dryly.
She nodded. Certainly. A cargo list. At this point, she’d agree to anything if it increased her chances of intercepting the sketchbook before someone else did.
To her surprise, Azureford shrugged.
“All right, Captain.” He handed her a brick-red volume. “See if this works.”
She opened it to the first page. It was blank. So was the second, the third, the fourth. It was a blank journal. He was sayingyes. She hugged it to her chest.
His eyes narrowed. “That’s an unusual bracelet.”
Who cared about the bracelet? She glanced down at the slender gold bands encircling her wrist. “It’s several twisted together.”
“Several, as in…five?” His voice dripped with suspicion. “Are thosefive golden rings?”
“I don’t know.” Why was he making a fuss? She frowned at the twisting bracelet. One two three four— “Yes, five. How did you know?”
“Because it’s obvious!” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. “Why are you conspiring with Madame Edna of Essex?”
“With… who?” she asked faintly.
“The fortuneteller,” he said with obvious exasperation. “The one who met me at the castle and gave some fiddle-faddle about ‘dukes, actually’ and following the five golden rings.”
“You went to afortuneteller?” she repeated in disbelief.
Nothing could have proven how wrong they were for each other more clearly. Carole believed in logic and rationality. She only trusted what she could verify with maths or confirm with her own senses. And the aloof, powerful Duke of Azureford…
She stepped backward in horror. “Please don’t tell me Parliament relies onmagic.”
Azureford’s fierce expression went from accusing to embarrassed to droll.
“Essexmagic,” he assured her. “The very best. Only fools trust magic from ‘the old country.’”
She burst out laughing. “What other insights did this extremely reputable clairvoyant share with you?”
“That I take myself too seriously,” he said with a sigh. “And probably her, too. She was my first fortuneteller.”
“Will you try again?”
“Never.” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “I’ve been a madman for two days, seeing signs where there aren’t any.”
