Genova saw Ash flinch at that reminder. No, his mind still wasn’t free of long training.
“But you say there’s nothing of importance there,” he said.
“That’s not precisely what I said. You have over an hour until dinner.”
Rothgar left, and Genova wondered what her part in this was. If she could help, she would be glad to do so.
For long moments, Ash made no move. Then, slowly, resistantly, he walked to the open drawer. “Anything that casts a shadow on the Mallorens will have been destroyed long ago.”
“It will do no harm to look.”
“Isn’t that what Pandora said?” He touched a bundle. “Are these letters she received, or did she make drafts? Or even use a secretary? And what are these?”
He untied a gray ribbon around marbled boards, revealing that it had once been red. When he turned back the top board, Genova saw a sketch of a Grecian temple, adequately but not brilliantly executed in pen and ink. He flipped through the sheets. “Her art? Do pretty pictures of false ornaments show the soul?”
He closed the folio and picked up the other bound boards. No, it was a book. He untied the ribbon and turned to the first page. Even from by his side, Genova could read the well-trained but overlarge writing.
June 14th, 1724. I am now the Marchioness of Rothgar and vastly pleased with my new state….
“Unless that’s a forgery,” Genova pointed out, “she was a happy bride.”
“If a rather silly one.”
“She was only sixteen, I understand.”
“Wicked, wouldn’t you say?”
“Many girls marry at sixteen.”
“And some are ready to.”
She pulled a face. “You can’t blame the Mallorens for that, Ash. Her parents could have forbidden the banns.”
“Not so easily. The rules were loose before 1753. If a girl was willing to run away with a cur, there was little her parents could do about it, short of locking her up. But as best I know, everyone approved of this match.” He closed the book and handed it to her. “If you’re interested, you read it.”
Genova kept her hands by her side. “No. You must.”
“Must?”
“We’re done with that game.”
“Pity.” He looked at the book. “Why am I so reluctant to read this? Because I fear disappointment, or fear breaking free of chains that support me?”
“Chains bind rather than support.”
“But we can still become dependent on them.”
He gestured to the table. “If I’m to read this, you will sit and read those letters.”
Chapter Thirty-seven
Sharing his wariness, Genova gathered the three bundles of papers and the portfolio of drawings and seated herself at the table. Ash sat down opposite, flipping the richly embroidered skirts of his coat out of the way. Then he began to read.
She watched for a moment, looking for a change of expression, but seeing none she started with the simplest part of her collection and flipped through the drawings, wishing her hands weren’t already chilled.
Lady Augusta had been well trained but lacked talent. The pictures all seemed to be dutiful Sketches made around Rothgar Abbey. Then Genova paused.
In a recognizable sketch of the Tapestry Room, Augusta had drawn a man sitting in a chair reading a book. The figure was wooden with a poorly drawn head, but surely it was her husband. Would a wife try such a picture of a husband she feared?
