D3. Burke. Reflections on the Revolution in France. 18-18. Withdrawn.
E2. Swift. Gulliver’s Travels. 19-16. Restricted.
The torn edge made the absence feel like a wound.
“The blank line,” Graham said quietly.
Eleanor’s fingers tightened. “Yes.”
C2.
Missing Volume.
The most important piece of the puzzle, and now it was in someone else’s pocket.
Graham forced his expression into neutrality. “You understand this is code.”
“I understood it the moment I saw the numbers,” Eleanor said. “Time and date. Meetings. Exchanges.”
“You have no idea what kind,” Graham said, because if she did, she would not still be standing in her dressing gown with blood on her knuckle and defiance in her eyes.
Eleanor’s gaze snapped to his. “I have an idea. That is the difficulty. I am no longer permitted ignorance.”
His breath caught at the truth of it. He made himself speak evenly. “Your father was connected to an inquiry.”
Eleanor’s face hardened. “Mr. Pritchard asked about ‘unusual correspondences’ today.”
Graham’s attention snapped to the name. “You told him something?”
“I told him nothing,” Eleanor said crisply. “But he mentioned an undersecretary. Halford.”
The name landed with the weight of inevitability, and Graham went very still. Halford was not a brute. He did not break windows. He withdrew people.
Graham kept his voice even. “Then you are already in danger.”
Eleanor studied him, eyes sharp. “Who are you?”
He hesitated because names were leverage, because the truth was always a blade, yet she deserved at least one thing that was not a calculation.
“My name is Graham Sinclair,” he said. “Lord Rathbourne.”
She did not curtsey. She merely inclined her head as if labeling a spine.
“And you have been haunting my house at odd hours because…?”
“Because your father’s name has surfaced in a treason inquiry,” Graham said. “And because someone is willing to risk hanging for a single torn line of his notes.”
Eleanor’s throat moved as she swallowed. “And my mother?” she asked, quieter.
Graham’s chest tightened. An old reflex, the cost of being the one who saw danger first. “Keep her uninvolved,” he said. “For her safety and yours.”
Eleanor’s eyes flashed. “You mean to lock me away for my own protection.”
“No,” Graham said. “You are safer in plain sight, for now. But you must follow instructions exactly.”
“Orders are a remarkably efficient way to ensure I do the opposite,” Eleanor said.
Despite himself, a brief, dry sound escaped him. Not laughter, never that. Something like it, nonetheless.
