Page 75

“Never, if you don’t wish it,” he replied.

She walked up the stairs before him, aware that her body strongly disagreed with the rules of propriety her mother had taught her—but that memory steadied her. No matter how inviting Fiennes’s gaze might be, she would follow her mother’s precepts.

She didn’t lean into him when they both crouched before Josephina’s nest. She didn’t melt when he cradled Starlight against his chest and scratched her cat under the chin.

She didn’t throw herself into his arms when he smiled at her.

After a few minutes, Fiennes stood up and looked around the bare room, frowning. “Jarvis will bring a proper bath for you in a few minutes.”

“A bath,” Ella said happily.

“You did show some concern about my bathing, so I thought I would return the compliment,” he pointed out. “Those books are your father’s, aren’t they?”

Ella nodded. “Jarvis has promised he will pack them himself. It’s likely that my uncle will never realize that they’re gone. He used to laugh at my father for being a reader.”

“What a fool,” Fiennes said absently. He strode over to her bed and began picking up the volumes and glancing at the titles.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” Ella asked, coming to his side. “These books are mostly literature, as my uncle considered them more saleable.”

“Is there a copy of Hamlet in the bunch?”

“Yes! It’s a very early edition, so it’s likely worth something.”

“May I see it, Ella?”

She frowned at him, puzzled. “Certainly. I stacked the Shakespeare plays together, thinking I would offer them to Fulvia. They’re over there, next to the wall.”

Fiennes took the stack as a whole and turned the volumes on their sides so he could read the titles. He picked up the thin volume marked Hamlet, turned it upside down, and shook it.

Nothing happened.

“Books need to be treated more gently,” Ella protested. “Did you think my father’s will might be inside? My father surely didn’t imagine his brother as King Claudius, dripping poison in his ear.”

Fiennes cocked an eyebrow. “Are you certain? Jarvis tells me that your father was a sagacious fellow who grasped his brother’s shortcomings.”

“When did you find time to discuss that subject with Jarvis?”

“This morning, while you were changing your gown, and I was guarding the staircase to the attic. Wait a minute. I slept through King Lear in school, but a few details were drummed into my unwilling head. Didn’t Lear write a will, leaving his property to his daughters?” He picked up another volume.

Ella had just enough time to realize it was a copy of King Lear before Fiennes shook it violently.

A folded piece of paper fell out.

Ella caught it in mid-air.

Clearly, the parchment had originally been larger than the book, but it had been nibbled until it was the same length and width as the Shakespeare volume. Crescents had disappeared from the top, the bottom, and one side.

She knew her father’s writing.

Half of the salutation was gone, but most of the document was untouched. She swallowed hard.

Fiennes straightened and put an arm around her shoulder. They read it together. Her mother had been given the estate for her use during her lifetime. Unfortunately, she died at the scene of the crash.

The next paragraph bequeathed the late viscount’s London house to his dear daughter Fenella absolutely, along with stocks and bonds that her uncle undoubtedly wasted long ago. The Northern estate was left to her children.

Her uncle, her father’s only sibling, received nothing. But her aunt was given a ruby necklace, with the proviso that she save it as a dowry for her daughter, Fulvia. Under no circumstances was it to be sold.

Ella’s eyes pricked with tears. Her father had tried to safeguard her future, even thinking of Fulvia. Alas, that ruby necklace had been sold long ago. Her mother’s jewelry had disappeared from her bedchamber the very day that the viscount took possession of the house.