Page 40 of A Masked Lady for Mr. Kenworthy
It was difficult to choose. Each title she saw sounded more interesting than the last, and she wished there were some way she could read them all in the three days she would be staying at Lord Turlington’s country seat. At last, she settled on Shakespeare’sHamlet. She pulled out the book, which looked surprisingly new, from the shelf, starting when something small and black fell forward, nearly slipping off the bookshelf and onto the floor. Reflexively, Faye reached out and caught the falling object. After studying it for a moment, she gasped sharply.
She had spent less than five hours alone with Lord Turlington since she had met him. She had come to the country manor prepared to spend three whole days with the seedy man. Yet she knew, without reading a single page, she held in her hands exactly what she had come for. And all she had had to do was let it fall straight into her hands. Her heart raced as she stared in equal parts amazement and fear at the black journal she had been sent to retrieve.
Curiosity made her open the book, despite her certainty that she was, indeed, holding the infamous black book. Every page was handwritten, confirming what she had already known. Many of the words on the pages were in French, and the notes in English made little sense to her because she did not understand what they were referencing. But one word stood out to her: Murder. It appeared on several pages. She slammed the book shut, shuddering as she contemplated just what the implications of the journal’s contents likely were.
She was so deep in thought that, by the time she heard the approaching footsteps, they were almost right upon her. She froze, her heart beating impossibly fast and her mind racing so fiercely, she could not decide what to do with the book. She knew she was in direct and dire danger, and yet she could not will her body to move. When the final footstep echoed right behind her, just inside the library doorway, her body went rigid. Adrenaline suddenly shot through her, and she whirled around, prepared to either catch the marquess by surprise just long enough to run past him or to run straight into her fate.
“Faye?” Selina asked softly, her face filled with concern.
When Faye locked eyes with the countess, she nearly collapsed to the ground with relief. She reached out for a table just ahead of her, gripping onto its edges with her free hand as though she would fall off the earth if she let go.
“Oh, my heavens,” she said, choking on a sob. “You scared me absolutely to death, Selina.”
The countess looked as bewildered and relieved as she did. She closed the door silently behind her and rushed over to Faye, where she gripped onto her arms so tightly, Faye thought she would cut off the blood flow to her hands.
“I scared you?” Selina asked, craning her neck around to the door as if she expected to find it wide open again suddenly and someone standing there. “Darling, I could not sleep and went to your room to check on you. Imagine my fright when I found your bed empty.”
Faye gave the countess a reassuring smile in the hope of mollifying her.
“Forgive me, Selina,” she said, lifting her empty hand and touching the countess’s shoulder. “I did not mean to worry you so. I thought you were asleep, and I had an idea I would read until I could make myself tired.”
Selina nodded, the relief instantaneous on her face. She cupped Faye’s face in her hands and sighed.
“I should have known that was a possibility, my dear,” she said. Then, she frowned. “But if you merely came down here to read, why did you look so terrified when you saw me?”
All at once, Faye remembered the book she held in her hand, and the excitement and fear she had felt upon finding it. Realizing the countess had not yet seen it, she held it up, extending it to Lady Salisdene with trembling hands.
“Look at what I found,” she said, looking at the countess intently.
The countess’s brow furrowed, but only for a moment. Then she, too, understood what the object was, and she gasped, much as Faye had.
“Oh, Faye,” she said. “However, did you get this?”
Faye laughed, suddenly aware of the absurdity of the journal’s location. She patted the countess’s arm with a reassuring hand, knowing well what Selina must be thinking.
“If you can believe it, it literally fell into my hands,” she said, pointing to where the book had been hidden.
The countess stared in utter amazement, no doubt thinking exactly the same as Faye about the marquess’s chosen hiding place for something so important. Then she, too, laughed.
“To have made a blunder so serious, it is a miracle he has survived a lift of crime this long,” she said. But just as suddenly as her laughter began, it ceased. Her eyes widened once more, and her forehead creased. “Oh, dear.”
Faye’s alarm returned. This time it was she who looked toward the door, expecting the marquess to have heard them talking and come to dispatch them.
“What?” she asked. “What is wrong, Selina?”
The countess clutched the book to her chest, pulling Faye closer to her with her other hand and putting her lips next to Faye’s ear.
“It is not safe for us to be in here,” she whispered urgently.
Faye shook her head, confused.
“But he told me I could come in here any time I liked,” she said.
The countess shook her head firmly.
“I would bet a satchel of gold he said that assuming he would be with you when you came in here,” she said. “Besides, he has no reason to suspect you even know about the journal, let alone have any interest in it.” She took a breath, closing her eyes as she exhaled. When she spoke again, it was more evenly and calmly. “But it will not take him long at all to figure out what has happened to it, should he discover it missing while we are still here.”
Faye chewed her lip nervously. The countess was right, of course. How had she not thought of those things?
