Even now, years later, there were moments when she could hear the rich tenor of his voice alluding to Cupid and Psyche when she became too curious, or to Much Ado About Nothing’s Beatrice when she was becoming obviously headstrong. She breathed deeply, the memories flooding her as she inhaled the scent of the well-loved and well-cared-for inhabitants of this room—the aroma of oiled and leather-bound books.

Ordinarily, she would have spent her first few minutes in the room wandering aimlessly through the maze of shelves, marveling at the way the high windows were constructed to let just enough sunlight in for dust to dance in the rays without the light harming the books. But today, she had no time to dally.

The earl had always been thoroughly organized in regard to his library—the books were sorted by genre, then by title. All Alex had to do was find the collection of books on the county history and she would discover that for which she was searching. She began poring over the shelves, pausing only long enough to identify the topic covered by the collection of books she was looking at—science, medicine, poetry, the classics of Shakespeare and Chaucer—she found the history collection quickly, running her fingers over the spines of books on the Far East, the Americas, the European continent, and, finally, British history with a whole collection of titles on the various counties in Britain. She crouched down to see them all clearly—identifying several volumes on Essex, but not the one she was looking for. She was certain her theory was right and the earl had a second copy of the book. Blowing back a lock of hair from her face, she spoke aloud to the empty room, “Where is the blasted thing?”

Perhaps he’d hidden it? Or, worse, perhaps he hadn’t had the time to leave his final message. Perhaps he was killed before he could complete the task.

“No.” Alex shook her head in frustration and sat on the floor, pulling books off the shelf one by one, opening them and running her hands across the endpapers, checking to see if he’d left his next missive in a different title. The stack of books on the floor by her side grew as she searched through the collection. When she had emptied the shelf on Essex, she sighed down at the pile she had made, wondering where else she could search. She looked back at the shelf in disappointment and there, hidden behind the other books, was a small volume bound in rich green leather. She knew the title before she looked closely at the book…A History of Essex.

Her heart pounding, Alex opened the cover, knowing with absolute certainty that she was about to find what she had been looking for. Looking down at the volume, she gasped. The book had been hollowed out and a stack of papers were tucked inside. She pulled them from their hiding place and was about to read them, when she realized that they were not her secrets to uncover. They were secrets that belonged to the Sewell line—to the Earls of Blackmoor. She had to find Gavin.

She burst from the room at a dead run, crossing the wide hallway, so intent on her mission that she didn’t pause before throwing open the study door and rushing into the room. Gavin was sitting behind his desk, and she saw the surprise in his eyes at her entrance. She stopped just inside the door before exclaiming, “I found it! I found the information your father hid!”

It was only after she spoke the words that she noticed the harsh lines of his face, the clear tension in his mouth, and the anger in his eyes that had, for a fleeting moment, been replaced by shock at her presence. He was no longer looking at her. His gaze was fixed on a point behind her. She heard the door to the study close ominously and knew before looking that there was someone else in the room with them.

“Excellent, my dear girl. You are more intelligent than you appear, it seems.”

Alex spun around at the words, her spine straightening when she took in the entire scene. There, standing just to the side of the now closed door, was Lucian Sewell. He was holding a pistol. And it was pointed directly at her.

Reaching one hand out to her, he continued, “Why don’t you be a good girl and give the book to me, Alexandra? There’s no need to make this any more difficult than it needs to be.”

Alex looked back toward Blackmoor, but he did not take his eyes from his uncle, who spoke again, his tone vicious. “Don’t be a fool, Alexandra. The rules of this game are very simple. You give me the book or I kill you.”

This odious person had betrayed her country, murdered a man she adored, and was now threatening to kill her. She wasn’t going to do anything he asked of her. Not without a fight. She didn’t know where the defiance came from, but there it was, vivid and intense. “No.”

“Alex.” This time, it was Gavin who spoke. His tone brooked no discussion. “Give him the book.”

“No. I won’t.” She held the volume tighter to her chest, glancing back at Gavin, who still wasn’t looking at her. Turning back to Lucian, she met his eyes without fear. “You won’t kill me. You’d have my father and every man in the county looking to see you hanged.”

“You forget, child, that I am very good at making planned deaths appear accidental.” Sewell smiled, evil in his eyes. “How sad it would be if the two of you took yourselves off to the cliffs for a private moment only to tumble, tragically, into the sea.”

“I imagine you believe that if a plan worked once, it will work

again?” Blackmoor asked.

Sewell’s smile turned into a vicious sneer as he replied, “It worked perfectly the first time; need I remind you that we wouldn’t be in this particular situation if you hadn’t been so reluctant to accept the circumstances of your father’s death.”