Page 58 of Her Heart's Rightful Earl
As they bent to the floor to remove the board and retrieve the promised box, their eyes met. Alexander’s burned with trepidation, and Arabella realized how his whole future was dependent on what was revealed in this journal. She attempted a small smile of comfort, and Alexander swallowed hard, lifting the floorboard and reaching into the floor cavity to retrieve the steel box.
All that could be heard in the silent room was their breathing as, together, they lifted the box and placed it carefully on the floor, cautious not to make any unnecessary noise. They were fortunate that the study was on the ground floor, away from their sleeping family members and at the front of the house, away from the sleeping quarters of any remaining household staff, but they still needed to exercise sensibility.
Arabella handed Alexander the key, and they locked eyes over it. His upturned palm was warm, and her hand rested there a moment without her snatching it away. An authentic vulnerability in Alexander’s eyes made her want to take the pain away, but they needed to live through this to reach whatever might wait on the other side.
Stealing his eyes reluctantly away from Arabella’s face, Alexander concentrated on fitting the key into the lock on the tarnished box and turned it. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the lid, and it yawned open, revealing a brown leather book, wrapped in oiled cloth.
Arabella leaned over him as he delicately unwrapped the leather-bound volume and turned to the first page.
As Alexander leafed through the pages, they silently absorbed random paragraphs as they went, and Edmund’s writing revealed a story that darkened as the pages progressed.
Alexander paused at a page that was headed with Arabella’s name. They both devoured it with their eyes.
This beautiful, sweet soul, who should have been my good cousin, Alexander’s wife. How I will cherish her in his honour. Though how I simultaneously wish she would not feel the consistent need to please me. She is compliant to the point of making herself invisible, and it is saddening to see.
I am aware she feels indebted to me, when in truth, she has no obligation to do so. We share a respect and fondness, and I know she harbours a guilt that she cannot give me more. However, I have no expectation of her love; we keep each other safe and shelter one another.
My fear is that I will not be able to rescue her from the malignancy that is the man who killed my uncle. I pray that when the time comes, sweet Arabella can be salvaged from this rotten mess.
When they had both read the page, their eyes lifted to meet one another’s. Arabella’s eyes overspilled with silent tears, and Alexander’s were red with unspent anguish. Arabella breathed deeply and released a shuddering breath.
They returned their focus to the journal, and as they reached the end pages, where the book turned inevitably and devastatingly blank, the content darkened considerably.
… I have uncovered absolute evidence that Marcus has, indeed, been embezzling from the Wellwood estate. Not only once or twice, but on an industrial scale, which will utterly destroy the family and its good name, should it be permitted to continue …
Alexander turned the page.
… A man I shall not name bears witness to an overheard conversation between Marcus and his father only days before the murder. A confrontation. Whilst I am not privy to details, the suggestion is that my uncle had become aware of Marcus’s dealings with unsavoury characters and was questioning discrepancies in the Wellwood accounts …
The final entry read:
… I am fully convinced now of my cousin, Marcus’s, involvement in the murder of the Earl of Wellwood. I believe that my uncle confronted Marcus regarding the disappearance of money from the estate accounts, and Marcus retaliated with violence that would silence his father’s suspicions forever. My heart is heavy for what this means for our family, but I have invited Marcus to visit me later today for a frank discussion. It is my hope that he will confess …
Alexander's hands began to shake at the realization this was the last entry Edmund wrote, and the captain’s suggestion that Edmund was poisoned by an educated, wealthy individual aligned too perfectly with this new knowledge that Marcus was due to visit Edmund that same afternoon he died.
He and Arabella stared at one another in shock and fear. This revelation was enormous and quite categorically implicated Marcus as the killer.
Arabella watched Alexander’s face as his world crumbled. The younger brother he had nurtured and adored. The boy he had always guided and supported, made excuses for, and elevated at every opportunity. This young man had grown not only into a liar, thief, and manipulator, but had killed his own father and cousin! It seemed impossible to fathom.
Arabella shifted closer towards Alexander—their proximity had already been close as they bent low over the journal to read, but Arabella needed now to comfort him.
Gone were her reservations about socially acceptable distance and maintaining a façade of sternness, punishing Alexander for his desertion. In front of her now was this man she had loved—stillloved— and his heart was breaking. All he had believed in and poured his love and loyalty into had been false.
Arabella lifted her arms to embrace him in comfort, and as she lay her head on his shoulder, she could feel his body quiver with the cocktail of emotions pulsing through him. She drew back slightly to ask him what they should do about this terrible predicament, but before she drew breath to speak, Alexander’s hands let go of the journal, which sat in his lap.
His warm palms came to rest on her face, delicately cupping her cold, pale cheeks. He brought her face closer to his, and his eyes dropped to her lips with a yearning that the surge in her heart matched.
In desperation for the only dependable element left in his life, Alexander crushed his lips to Arabella’s. She fell into him, succumbing to the embrace she had hungered for over so many years. As they kissed, Arabella’s eyes wept with relief to be back in his arms and with fresh grief at the obstacles they now faced.
As they pulled apart, Alexander smudged his thumb over her soft skin where a tear had fallen and smiled sadly at her.
“Everything is utterly disastrous,” he told her in a defeated whisper.
“But at least we can face it together,” she assured him.
They leaned their foreheads together and both closed their eyes in a moment of solidarity and bittersweet reunion.
***
