Chapter 2 - The Name Written in Invisible Ink
The second envelope contained only one sheet of paper.
No signature.
No date.
No explanation.
Do not trust the Duchess.
Clara read the words twice.
“Your mother?” she asked.
Sebastian stared at the page.
“My mother died when I was fifteen.”
“Then who is the Duchess?”
“My aunt.”
“Lady Beatrice?”
“Yes.”
Clara had met Lady Beatrice only twice.
The first time, the older woman had smiled too warmly and told Clara that Americans were fortunate because they were spared the burdens of old family expectations.
The second time, she had touched Clara's wrist during dinner and said, “A marriage survives many disappointments, darling. Particularly when a woman understands what she cannot provide.”
Clara had thought it was cruel.
Now she wondered whether it had been a threat.
Sebastian took the paper.
“There is something strange about this ink.”
“What?”
He held it near the fire.
A faint second line appeared beneath the first.
Clara leaned closer.
The hidden words slowly became visible.
She has already searched the library.
Clara looked at Sebastian.
“Your aunt searched this room?”
“Apparently.”
“For what?”
“I don't know.”
“The ledger?”
Sebastian's eyes narrowed.
“What ledger?”
Clara pointed at the page.
“The letter says she searched the library. Perhaps she was looking for whatever your father was hiding.”
They searched the desk.
Nothing.
Then Clara noticed a slight unevenness in the panel beneath the writing surface.
She pressed it.
A compartment opened.
Inside was a thin black book.
Sebastian took it.
The cover had no title.
He opened it.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Every page was written in his father's unmistakable hand.
At first the entries appeared ordinary.
Ten pounds to the stablemaster.
Twenty pounds to a solicitor.
Then Clara saw a recurring name.
Prescott.
Beside it were several large payments.
Sebastian stared.
“Your doctor.”
Clara's stomach twisted.
The payments had begun three years before her marriage.
The final one was dated four months after Sebastian's father died.
She looked at him.
“Someone kept paying him after your father was gone.”
“Then my father wasn't the only person behind this.”
The next entries contained another name.
Beatrice.
Beside it were payments to a London physician.
A private nursery.
A law office.
And a mysterious account in Boston.
Clara touched the page.
“That is my city.”
Sebastian nodded.
“Someone was watching you before we met.”
The realization made her skin crawl.
“Why?”
He turned another page.
Her own surname appeared.
Whitmore.
Under it:
Inheritance.
Clara stared.
“My father wasn't wealthy enough to matter to your family.”
Sebastian closed the book.
“Your father may not have been.”
“What does that mean?”
“There was a trust.”
Clara froze.
“What trust?”
Sebastian's expression changed.
“You didn't know?”
“No.”
“Your mother had an estate.”
“My mother?”
“She was not only a librarian.”
Clara shook her head.
“My mother died when I was ten.”
“I know.”
“She never had money.”
“She had shares in an American shipping company.”
Clara stared.
“How much?”
“Enough to make your family very interested in you.”
A terrible thought entered her mind.
“My mother was connected to your father.”
“Apparently.”
“Did you know?”
“No.”
Her voice became quiet.
“Then we're both living inside secrets.”
“Yes.”
A knock sounded.
Nora entered.
“I've been looking for both of you.”
Then she saw the ledger.
“What is that?”
Sebastian handed it to her.
Nora flipped through the pages.
Her expression changed.
“Where did you find this?”
“Hidden in the library.”
Nora swallowed.
“There is something you need to know.”
“What?”
“Lady Beatrice arrived an hour ago.”
Sebastian frowned.
“She was not expected.”
“She demanded to see Clara.”
Clara's stomach tightened.
“Why?”
Nora looked at her.
“She said she knows the truth.”
A silence settled over the room.
Then Sebastian said,
“She knows we found the ledger.”
Nora nodded.
“Probably.”
“Where is she?”
“In the east salon.”
Sebastian took the book.
“Stay here.”
Clara immediately shook her head.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“I said no more secrets.”
“I wasn't suggesting you stay out of this.”
“Then I'm coming.”
They entered the salon together.
Lady Beatrice sat beside the fire.
She looked composed.
Almost amused.
“My dear nephew.”
Sebastian did not sit.
“You're early.”
“I wanted to speak with Clara.”
Clara remained beside him.
“You have something to say.”
Beatrice's smile disappeared.
“Yes.”
She looked at Clara.
“I owe you an apology.”
Clara almost laughed.
“For what?”
“For allowing you to enter this family under false pretenses.”
Sebastian stiffened.
“What did you do?”
“I did not order Prescott to falsify your medical report.”
Clara stared.
“Then who did?”
Beatrice looked at Sebastian.
“Your father.”
Sebastian's expression became blank.
“My father was dead before you confronted me about the medical records.”
“Yes.”
“So who continued the payments?”
Beatrice hesitated.
“Someone who feared what would happen if you had an heir.”
Julian's name hung in the air without being spoken.
Sebastian understood.
“My cousin.”
Beatrice nodded.
“He has been manipulating people for years.”
“Why?”
“Because your father changed the succession rules before his death.”
Sebastian went still.
“What changes?”
Beatrice looked at Clara.
“He created a private trust.”
“What kind?”
“One that protects Blackmere if the heir is born to a woman from outside the aristocracy.”
Clara frowned.
“Why would he do that?”
“Because he anticipated opposition.”
Sebastian's father's behavior suddenly made more sense.
“He knew the family would challenge my marriage.”
Beatrice nodded.
“He expected them to.”
“And the trust?”
“Requires you to have a child.”
Silence.
Clara looked at Sebastian.
“Then our marriage really was about an heir.”
“No.”
Sebastian's answer was immediate.
“I married you because I loved you.”
Beatrice interrupted.
“Perhaps.”
Sebastian glared at her.
“But your marriage also triggered the trust.”
Clara stared at the ledger.
Someone had lied about her fertility to prevent the trust from ever becoming active.
And if she had never had a child, Julian would gain control.
“Then they need me childless.”
“Yes.”
“Dead?”
Beatrice's face tightened.
“Possibly.”
The word seemed to freeze the room.
Sebastian moved closer to Clara.
Beatrice stood.
“You are in more danger than either of you understands.”
“What danger?”
“Your wedding was six months ago.”
“Yes.”
“And Julian has realized you are not barren.”
“How?”
Beatrice looked at the ledger.
“Because Prescott has stopped taking his money.”
Clara's pulse raced.
“Then he knows.”
“Worse.”
Beatrice stepped toward the door.
“He knows Clara has discovered the truth.”
Sebastian grabbed her arm.
“Who sent the anonymous letter?”
Beatrice looked at him.
“I did.”
Clara's eyes widened.
“Why?”
“Because your mother once saved my life.”
Clara stared.
“My mother?”
Beatrice nodded.
“She knew what this family could become.”
She gently pulled her arm free.
“She warned me that one day a woman would arrive from America carrying the one thing Blackmere needed.”
“What?”
Beatrice's expression became almost sorrowful.
“Not money.”
She looked at Clara.
“Courage.”
Then she walked out.
That evening, Sebastian found Clara standing by the window.
“You're thinking.”
“I am.”
“What?”
“That your family is insane.”
He almost smiled.
“Fair.”
She turned.
“Your aunt said my mother saved her.”
“Yes.”
“And she said I carry something Blackmere needs.”
“Yes.”
Clara touched her stomach.
For the first time in years, the thought of a child did not feel like a sentence.
It felt like possibility.
But then she remembered the anonymous warning.
Do not trust the Duchess.
She looked at Sebastian.
“I want to know what my mother knew.”
“So do I.”
“Then we find out.”
He stepped closer.
“This time, together.”
Clara nodded.
But neither noticed the man standing outside the garden doors.
A man who had been listening.
A man who quietly removed his hat.
Lord Julian Ashford smiled.
May you like
And whispered to himself,
“They found the ledger.”
