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Leah immediately walked over and looked at it. "Do you think so?"
"I am absolutely certain of it," he confirmed. "Whoever purchased this, is a wealthy man... or woman." He added the second part simply because they still did not know who the house belonged to. However, everything about this study revealed a man's presence, from the massive writing table to the leather chair in the corner. It reminded him of White's for some reason.
Leah pulled out the first drawer of the writing table and rummaged through a pile of papers. She extracted all of them, and skimmed through, trying to find a name.
"Anything?" he echoed.
She frowned, continuing to read. That was enough of a response. He approached her and started doing the same, extracting everything that was in the second drawer. They were filled with all sorts of letters, notes and documents, but there was no name.
"How can this be?" Leah grumbled, putting down every piece of paper she did not find useful. "How can there be so much correspondence and not a single name?"
"Because this person has gone to great lengths to remain anonymous," Edward explained. "And the people writing to him have probably been given clear instructions on how to write to him... or her."
"You can stop adding theherpart," she told him. "I think we can both agree that this is not the study of a woman."
"We can," Edward nodded. "I was just thinking that perhaps this man doesn't work alone. Maybe there is someone else involved, another man, or a woman."
Leah did not say anything to that. She kept going through the leftover pile of papers in her hand, when suddenly, she turned pale. She gasped, pressing her hand to her lips, dropping all but one paper onto the ground, with that last one still in her hands, gripping it tightly.
"E... Edward?" she mumbled his name, lifting her gaze to meet his.
"What is it?" he asked, worried. "What did you find?"
"Come and take a look at this," she said, her voice trembling. She offered him the paper from her hand, and he took it. He skimmed through it. It was a plan of some sort, with someone suggesting the time and location of exchanging something. He wondered what that something might be. Then, it was signedJ. Grant.He frowned.
"J Grant?" He read it aloud again. "Jerome Grant? The Marquess of Dawbridge?"
"I don't know," Leah said, her face still as pale as the sheet of paper Edward was holding. "I do not know anyone else whose last name is Grant. And that initial–"
"But... that can't be," Edward shook his head. "That man is well respected in theton.He could not be involved in this."
"Perhaps that was why my mother did not dare state his name clearly, because she knew what might happen if anyone got their hands on her diary. She had to tread carefully, but as it turned out, not even that was enough."
At that moment, the sound of clapping was heard. Both Edward and Leah looked in the direction where the sound was coming from.
"Bravo!" The Marquess was grinning from ear to ear, clapping theatrically as he approached them. "I must say, it took you a little longer than I thought it would. But you are here now and that is all that matters."
Before either Edward or Leah could say anything to that, the Marquess pointed at them. "Take them!"
Three men rushed in from the door, aiming for them. Edward tried to protect Leah, but he was subdued by the two men, who were now holding his arms. He fought back hard, punching one of them in the jaw and managing to push the other one away. He rushed over to Leah, who was screaming in fright, but the moment he was about to grab the third man, he felt a horrible thud of back on the back of his head and suddenly, everything went black.
CHAPTER25
When Leah opened her eyes, she felt a horrible taste in her mouth. It took her eyes a little while before they got adjusted to the miniature amount of light that a few small candles provided. When she tried to move, she realized, to her shock, that she was tied to a chair. Next to her, Edward was seated, his entire body and head slumped forward.
"Edward!?" she called out to him, a headache exploding inside the back of her head.
"Ah, you're awake," a voice came from the darkness. The man who emerged was the Marquess. He was grinning at her, an evil, wicked grin.
"What have you done to Edward?" she demanded.
"Not much more than was done to you, my dear," the Marquess explained. "You were made to fall asleep by placing a cloth with some strange mixture to your mouth and nose. Inhaling it made you sleepy. Your friend, on the other hand, did not go down that peacefully, I'm afraid. But that is his own fault, you see."
"You scoundrel!" Leah shouted, shaking herself, trying to get free from the ropes.
"I do love a good show," the Marquess revealed. "But those ropes were tied by a sailor, my dear. They are as tight as a drum."
At that moment, Edward started to stir. She could hear him mumble and moan.
