Page 32 of One Wicked Secret
“Not really. Though he ignored me when I asked what he was reading. He found a knife and cut the perfect rose.”
He had accompanied her to the marble obelisk and talked fondly of his wedding day. Theirs had been a love match, not a marriage based on old brotherly pacts and intimidation.
“And he never alluded to the journal again?”
“No. Surely if my father wanted me to have the book, he would have left it to me in his will.”
“How could he? After probate was granted, anyone could apply to read a copy. You would have been a target.”
“The same would be true of Magnus,” she added.
He pursed his lips, holding back a retort. Yet the lines on his brow hinted at his suspicions.
“What is it?” Her heart stuttered. “If there’s something you wish to say about Magnus, don’t let me stop you.”
Daniel winced as he spoke. “I did wonder if Magnus had found the journal and taken it to Geneva for safekeeping.”
“Surely he would have told you.” Magnus didn’t keep secrets, though a whisper of doubt drifted into her mind. Would Magnus sacrifice her to protect the estate and the family name? “Unless the book contained something so incriminating, he was ashamed to tell you.” Something so damning Magnus could never come home.
“I wrote to him before we left London, although it will be two weeks before I receive a reply.” Daniel’s shoulders slumped, the weight of failure a heavy burden. “Let’s pray he offers some insight.”
Despite the emotional distance between them, she was overcome with the need to comfort him. “Until then, we’ll assume the book is still missing. Let’s visit the hothouse. You’re right. Something trivial might lead to a clue.”
Daniel agreed. “We’ll stay another hour, no more.”
They moved through the dark halls, treading carefully to avoid making a sound. Dust lingered in the air, mingling with the damp scent of neglect. In some rooms, sheets draped the furniture like forgotten shrouds. The house lay in a timeless sleep, holding its breath, guarding its secrets while they fought to end this nightmare.
They slipped out through a servants’ door and crept along the garden’s edge, keeping to the shadows and the weed-choked path, half-expecting a figure to emerge from the gloom. The darkness pressed in, so dense she clung to her husband’s arm, her steps tentative.
A warm feeling flooded her when they came upon the grand ironwork hothouse, a glass palace that was her mother’s sanctuary.
Daniel scanned the garden before making for the door.
Once inside, she breathed in a variety of familiar smells: the sweet floral scent of jasmine and gardenia, the damp foliage and a hint of citrus. The air still clung onto the day’s heat, the faint warmth from the stone floor enough to chase the chill from her toes.
Daniel drew her to where the first flush of Bourbon roses bloomed, the petals soft, pink, and pretty. “You said you found your father standing beside the roses when you entered.”
“Yes, exactly where we’re standing now.”
While he knelt, tapping on the wooden planter in searchof a hidden compartment, she asked the question that had slipped her mind last night.
“How is the hothouse thriving when the garden is overgrown and showing signs of neglect?”
“Magnus said the hothouse holds a special place in your heart.” He didn’t look up but continued knocking on the wooden slats before straightening and taking a glove from the basket to inspect the soil. “My gardener visits daily to ensure nothing dies. He’s taken cuttings from all the flowers to cultivate in the orangery at Thorncroft.”
Elsa stared at him, her heart breaking into a gallop.
Amid a myriad of problems, he had thought about her. The news was like the glimmer of a distant beacon, a guiding light in a treacherous storm.
She swallowed past a lump in her throat. “That’s extremely thoughtful of you.” A priceless gift she couldn’t possibly repay.
He met her gaze, his eyes dark and intense. “Your welfare has always been at the forefront of my mind.”
“I wish I had known that,” she breathed, longing to feel the warmth of his mouth again, but this invisible wall they had built was too high to climb.
“Why? Because you wouldn’t despise me quite so much?”
“I don’t despise you, Daniel.” The ache of loneliness came over her again. If she could just find the courage to lay her hand on his chest. “I understand the reasons behind everything you’ve done.” His sacrifices became more apparent by the day. “I’m just surprised you took care of the flowers.”
