Page 60 of The Last Heir to Blackwood Library

The world was saturated with the smell of heavy smoke and damp wood.A fire. There had been a fire.

“My father will need to have all the staff from Mabry House come here and work round the clock. Everything will be run out of Blackwood from now on.”

Arthur Mabry. His name came back to Ivy in a nauseating flash. The handsome young man from the bookshop who had befriended her and taken her under his wing in Yorkshire. But why would he be here, and what did he mean that everything would be run out of Blackwood?

Someone else was coming, and the men broke off in their conversation at the sound of footsteps. Ivy craned her head around the shelf, trying to catch a glimpse of the newcomer, but they had all moved just out of view.

“You! What are you doing here?” Arthur demanded, his voice suddenly pitched shrill.

The response was too low for Ivy to catch, but judging from Arthur’s response, he was not on friendly terms with the interloper.

“Would have been a good deal more convenient if you had not survived the fire,” Arthur said.

Another low response tickled at the back of Ivy’s mind.

“No, stay your hand, Mercer,” Arthur instructed. “He may be useful yet. Ivy slipped her guard when the fire broke out. I am most anxious to retrieve my wife, and he may be able to help.”

A palpable tension filled the ensuing silence. There was a clatter and a new voice joined the group. “My lord? You’re needed, your father said they are ready for the girl.”

There was some low conferring, and then the hasty retreat of footsteps. But a heaviness, a vital presence still hung in the air, and Ivy knew that she was not alone.

She groped at the debris until she found a heavy piece of wood. Slowly uncurling herself from her hiding place, she took a deep breath and sprang out into the open prepared to meet one of Arthur’s men head-on.

But the face that looked back at her was all perfect angles, cut jaw, and deeply concerned gray eyes.

“Ralph.” The wood clattered to the ground and she stumbled toward him, stopping short when she saw his stormy expression.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be back at the cottage.”

“I couldn’t just sit there waiting. You didn’t find the notes, did you,” she said.

Ralph confirmed what she already knew with a shake of his head. “You’re safe. That’s the only thing that matters.”

“Come on,” he said, finally closing the distance between them and taking her by the hand. It was not the gentle, reassuring touch that she had expected, but rather a demanding invitation that brokered no argument.

“Where are we going?”

“I don’t know. Away from here, anywhere.” For a moment she was carried away on a wave of romance, and she envisioned running far from Blackwood and starting a new life with Ralph. But then she realized he was looking at her not with the same longing that sat heavy in her chest, but simply with concern and determination.

Ivy dug her heels in, bringing Ralph up short. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not leaving,” Ivy protested.

“Oh yes you are.”

She yanked her hand out of his grasp with a force that surprised them both.

Ralph ran his hand through his hair, then kicked at a shattered piece of the wooden railing. “Ivy, don’t be daft. There’s nothing for you here.” A stricken look crossed his face. “Don’t tell me you—you have feelings for Sir Arthur.”

“What? No, of course not. How could you think such a thing?”

His body relaxed a little. “Then what?”

The library was quiet, eerily so, as if waiting for her answer. “I—I just can’t.” Something tugged deep within her, something unpleasant. “It was something Mrs. Hewitt said. I can’t remember it exactly. But I think if I leave, something terrible could happen.”

The guilt on Ralph’s face passed quickly, so quickly that she almost missed it. “You know,” she said. “Tell me. What happens if I leave?”

“The library will find someone else to feed from.”

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