Page 130 of A Shadow Amongst the Roses

Thomas moved slightly, positioning himself just to her right. Not shielding. Present.

Eliza took the envelope.

The seal was unfamiliar. Not Adrian’s crest. Not anyone within their usual circle.

The paper felt too heavy. Too deliberate.

She broke the seal.

Thomas watched her hands, not the letter. Nathaniel waited with the quiet gravity of a man bracing for impact. Even the messenger stilled, as if sensing that whatever lay written there did not concern him, yet mattered deeply.

Eliza unfolded the page.

Her eyes moved over the first lines.

And stopped.

A breath escaped her before she realized she had let it go.

“Eliza?” Thomas said quietly.

She read again, to be certain.

“It is from Adrian’s solicitor,” she said. “From London.”

Nathaniel’s expression softened at once. “Do you need privacy?”

“No,” she said. And meant it. “Not for this.”

She swallowed.

“It concerns a matter Adrian never resolved before his death. Something he left unfinished.”

Thomas’s voice stayed low. “What kind of matter?”

“A legal one.” She lowered the letter slowly. “A substantial one. And it concerns me directly.”

Nathaniel stepped closer. “What does it say?”

Eliza read aloud.

By instruction of the late Lord Adrian Thornhaven, certain documents held in trust are now to be delivered into your possession. As they concern your future security and matters previously left in abeyance due to his illness, they require your signature and judgment at your earliest convenience.

There is no necessity for you to come to London. Mr. Hale will be with me next week and can attend you at Hartleigh for execution of the documents, should that meet with your approval.

She drew a steadying breath.

Eleanor appeared in the archway, having heard the last of it. “This is something you must consider carefully, my dear. If the solicitor is coming here, it may involve holdings or obligations you have not yet faced.”

Clara, arriving quietly behind her, added, “Or protections you did not yet know existed.”

Thomas looked at Eliza. Not urgent. Not demanding. Steady.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

It was not rhetorical. Not an assumption. It was an invitation.

Eliza felt the weight of every gaze in the hall. She felt the weight of her own heart. And beyond that, the widening shape of a future she had not yet walked.