Georgina knelt beside the crate, pushing aside a stack of estate receipts to reach the bottom. Her fingers brushed over folded vellum, then caught on a familiar ribbon. She drew it out, her pulse quickening.
Rowland’s hand. Slanted, precise. His private notations marked the margins of payment routes, suppliers, and dates. Names she had seen in the Hawkesbury ledgers. Names she had seen today, including Tom Carver.
Her breath caught, not in surprise, but in confirmation. The truth wasn’t hidden. It had been there all along. She was simply the one willing to see it.
“This is exactly what I was looking for.”
Mrs. Hemsley’s voice became quiet but sure. “You always did have an eye for the truth, my lady.”
Georgina rose, clutching the folio. “Call for the carriage. I’ll take this to Barrington and Alex.”
“As you wish,” Mrs. Hemsley said, already turning to the bell.
As the servant left the room, Georgina allowed herself one final glance at the papers in her hands. The threads were beginning to gather, not yet a noose, but close. And this time, she intended to tighten it.
*
The approach toSommer Chase stretched ahead, the hedgerows dark with lingering mist, and the lane still damp from the day’s rain. Alex guided his horse at a steady pace, Barrington riding beside him in thoughtful silence.
Carver had given them little, but little was not nothing. Shadows clung to his words, just enough to confirm their suspicions. And enough, too, to confirm that the man was not yet an enemy, but neither was he a friend.
Alex’s mind, however, had already turned toward Georgina.
He had given her a task suited to her talents, and he knew well she would not treat it lightly. Still, a tightness lingered beneath his ribs. He could not deny that part of him didn’t want her near any danger.
As they crested the final rise, hooves drummed behind them. Alex twisted in the saddle, just in time to see a second carriage turning up the lane. It was familiar, elegant, and unmistakably Georgina’s.
His breath caught, not with surprise, but with a sharp spark of anticipation. She had found something. He could see it in the firm set of her shoulders, the way she leaned forward as if eager to close the distance between them.
Barrington’s gaze flicked toward him, then to the carriage, his eyes sharpening. “Looks as though your lady has not been idle.”
“It certainly does,” Alex replied, already swinging down from his mount.
The coach drew to a halt almost alongside them, and before the footman could descend, Alex was there, opening the door himself.
Georgina met his gaze, her chin lifting in quiet triumph. Without a word, she placed the folio in his hand.
Alex’s eyes fell to the bundle, its worn ribbon barely holding its contents. He didn’t open it. There would be time for that once they got inside. But he felt its significance as surely as if the pages burned in his palm.
Their gazes held, something unspoken passing between them.
“You’ve found the trail,” he said softly.
“No,” she said. “Wedid.”
Chapter Fifteen
The folio laybetween them on the desk at Sommer Chase, its worn edges softened by time and travel. The desk itself bore the faint scent of lemon polish and old parchment, its surface dappled with late afternoon light that filtered through the tall windows. Dust motes swirled lazily in the golden shafts, as if unwilling to settle where decisions were being made.
Georgina kept her hands clasped in her lap, resisting the urge to smooth the parchment or press it flat, anything to fill the silence. The dark leather chair beneath her creaked softly when she shifted, a sound quickly swallowed by the hush of the room.
Alex stood behind the chair, neither sitting nor moving, only watching the folio as if it might reveal its secrets without being opened. His silhouette was still against the fireless hearth, framed by the worn stone mantle and a wall of books so orderly it bordered on severe.
It struck her then how still he could be, how his restraint was not cold but practiced. A man used to standing ready for orders. For danger. For truths that came with a cost. Something in that quiet steadiness drew her more than any charm could have. He hesitated not because he doubted her, but because he understood the importance of what they were about to uncover.
“I suppose we ought to begin,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.
Alex nodded once, then opened the cover with a soldier’s calm. Heturned the first page slowly, as if rushing might alter what was written. Georgina leaned in. Barrington remained a quiet presence at the window, letting the importance of the moment settle before he spoke.
