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CHAPTER 26

“You’ve a good instinct for risk, Your Grace,” Alden said, sliding a dossier across the desk between them. “The Bristol contract is nearly settled. I would like you to review the final terms before we sign it if you are amenable.”

Nathaniel nodded. He, Laura, and Iris had returned to London only the day before; he’d heard from Alden about a meeting a few days after he’d opened the west tower of the castle, and Nathaniel couldn’t pass up the chance.

Over the past months, Alden’s study on Grosvenor Street had become a place he knew almost as well as his own. As his eyes swept over the mahogany shelves lined with tomes and contracts, he hated it for that familiarity.

He abhorred being there. The occasional creak of the floorboards and the smell of Alden’s tobacco blend did not help either.

“I trust your judgment on this more than my own solicitor’s, if I am being honest.” Alden put his hand under his chin and stroked his beard. “And he is paid handsomely to take offense at that.”

“I’m amenable,” Nathaniel replied, scanning the terms, although they mattered naught. He would have to go through with this contract, no matter what, to get to what he was truly after. Most did not read what they signed, so he knew Alden would not question his brevity.

“I expect to hear from Cumberlea on the Kent matter within the week, incidentally,” Alden added casually, reaching for his glass of brandy. “He has been dawdling over the terms longer than I would like. I will want your opinion on that as well, once the correspondence arrives. Two heads and all that.”

Nathaniel did not look up from the papers. Over the past months, he had learned it was easier to hide his fury that way.

“Of course,” he uttered, turning the page.

“What do you think about the insurance clause on the third line?” Alden asked.

“I think it is unlikely to come to fruition,” Nathaniel said.

“Indeed.”

It had cost him a great deal. He could feel his own pulse in his throat, steady and controlled by long practice, and beneath it something sharper, more urgent, the stillness that came over him whenever the thread he’d been patiently following drew close enough to touch for just a moment.

“Excuse me, Lord Alden.” The butler appeared in the doorway. “If you may, there is a small matter requiring your attention.”

“Very well.” Alden rose with an apologetic wave of his hand, and set down his brandy. “Forgive me. Two minutes, no more. Help yourself to the brandy if your glass runs dry.”

Nathaniel nodded, and Alden left the study.

The door was left ajar, Alden’s voice already carrying down the corridor toward whatever crisis awaited him.

Nathaniel did not move.

Do not look. Whatever discipline carried you through the past four months, use it now. I cannot so much as glance toward the far side of that desk. It is not worth the risk.

He set the contract down, curled his hands into fists, and rose silently to his feet. He looked over the contents of the desk and found a letter among the scattered papers. The seal was already broken, and the hand that had penned it was unfamiliar.

Something in him went very still and very alert all at once.

I must know what it says. I will only take a little look, that is all. Just one quick look. I will not touch anything.

He crossed to the other side of the desk and kept his hands clasped loosely behind his back. He leaned over the letter and did not read it all. There was no time, and even if there had been, he would not have taken a greater risk by lingering.

In perhaps three seconds, his eyes found the salutation. It was not addressed to Alden, but some go-between whose name meant nothing to him. His eyes moved lower to an address written in a looping script. Ashwell Grange, near Chertsey. Beneath it was a request that any reply be sent there directly, as the recipient intended to remain in residence throughout the week.

Cumberlea.

His name appeared nowhere on the page that Nathaniel could see, yet it was written all over it. The hand matched the signature he had seen on an old lease document Croft had procured months ago.

Something in his chest went cold and sharp all at once.

This is it. I know it. Ashwell Grange, near Chertsey.

He repeated the words silently, as if memorizing the position of a star to navigate by.