I shrugged. “He’s the only one who wouldn’t exactly lose if this wedding fell apart.”
“So, you think Ethan swiped the brooch to sabotage the whole thing?” His tone was half-teasing, half-serious.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I’m done guessing. If that brooch’s still here, I’m finding it before the next disaster hits.”
A small smile tugged at his mouth. “You’re determined.”
“Determined,” I said, reaching for my planner, “and slightly terrified of Margaret. Which turns out to be excellent motivation.”
I turned back towards the window, where the vines shimmered faintly under the moonlight. “I think it’s all connected somehow,” I said.
Noah watched me, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Then maybe,” he said, nodding towards the stack of old papers on the sideboard, “we should read the next letter.”
I stared at him. “Now?”
He shrugged, casual but with that glint of mischief in his eyes. “Why not? You said you wanted answers. Maybe Edward left us one.”
I hesitated for a second, then reached for the envelope he offered me. The paper was brittle, edges curled, the ink faded to brown.
I eased the envelope open, the wax seal flaking to dust beneath my thumb. The paper inside was thin, browned at the edges, the ink faded but still elegant.
Noah shifted closer, his shoulder brushing mine. “Go on, read it out loud,” he urged.
I took a breath that was, obviously, purely for oxygen-related reasons and absolutely not because he’d just moved near enough for me to become weirdly aware of his cologne. Then I started reading.
"My dearest Edward,
Father’s suspicions have grown unbearable. He calls me into his study each evening to ask where I have been, why I seem distant. I have told him I am unwell, that the summer heat unsettles me, but he does not believe it.
Mother, too, has begun to question the long walks. She says my absences are unbecoming of a daughter with a future to protect. I fear she knows. Perhaps they both do.
I cannot sleep for the dread of discovery. Yesterday, Father sent one of the grooms to follow me. If not for the mist over the orchard, he might have seen us.
Dearest, I do not regret a single moment, but I beg you, no more meetings near the house. If they learn what we have done, they will cast me out and ruin you. I would rather be thought strange and melancholy than to never be able to see you again.
Always yours, T."
When I finished, the fire cracked sharply, as if the letter itself had unsettled the room.
Noah eyes were big. “Itwasan affair.”
I nodded, studying the curling script. “Her family didn’t approve of their relationship. She sounds so young. Scared but … in love.”
He leaned back, glancing around the panelled room. “You can almost feel it, that weight of being watched. Like it’s seeped into the walls.”
Before I could reply, footsteps echoed faintly in the corridor, measured, deliberate.
We both froze.
The door handle turned.
I quickly shoved the letter back into its envelope and slid it beneath a stack of old menus on the table just as the door opened.
Lady Beaumont appeared, immaculate in a silk dressing gown the colour of champagne. Her expression was polite in the way a blade is sharp.
“Holly?” she said lightly. “Still awake?”
“Yes,” I said, trying to sound casual. “I was just finishing the final notes from the dinner.”
