Chapter 8
Moonlight flooded the study as the heavy double doors grated open, casting long, skeletal shadows across the floorboards. Julian pressed his back hard against the cold stone of the exterior wall, wedged tightly in the narrow gap between the mahogany wainscoting and the thick crimson velvet of the window drapery. He held the black leather ledger and the loose parchment against his chest, praying the frantic pounding of his heart wouldn't echo through the silent room.
A soft click of a wall sconce ignited a row of concealed gas lamps, bathing the study in a warm, amber glow. Through a narrow split in the heavy fabric, Julian watched Countess Eleanor step into the room. She was still dressed in her red strapless gown, though a heavy mink stole was draped over her bare shoulders to ward off the chill of the unheated wing. Her face looked hard, stripped of its social polish, carved from stone and malice.
Eleanor walked straight to the mahogany desk with the purposeful stride of a predator checking its traps. She reached down to push the bottom drawer shut, only to find the brass lock dangling open, the internal mechanism compromised.
A sharp gasp escaped her lips. Eleanor dropped her mink stole onto the chair, her composure shattering instantly. She yanked the drawer all the way out, overturning the contents in a flurry of old receipts and blank stationery. The black ledger was gone.
“Who is here?” Eleanor demanded, her voice ringing out with terrifying resonance in the enclosed space. “Show yourself! You cannot hide from me in this house!”
Silence answered her, save for the crackling of the distant parlor hearth filtering up through the floor grates. Eleanor spun around, her eyes scanning the dark corners of the room. She reached into the beaded evening bag hanging from her wrist and pulled out a small, heavy silver revolver—an antique weapon from the family armory, polished and loaded.
Julian’s fingers tightened around the leather-bound ledger. He knew the risk. If she pulled back the velvet drape, she would find him trapped like an animal in a cage. There was no escape route through the second-story window, which overlooked a jagged stone courtyard forty feet below.
Eleanor took slow, deliberate steps toward the window, her heels clicking against the rug with the cadence of a ticking bomb. She raised the silver barrel, pointing it directly at the heavy folds of the crimson curtain where Julian stood holding his breath.
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“I know you took the book,” Eleanor whispered, her voice dropping to a venomous hiss as she closed the distance. “Step out now, and perhaps I’ll make your end quick. Fight me, and I’ll tell the authorities you broke in to murder me in my sleep.”
She reached out a manicured hand, her fingertips brushing the edge of the velvet fabric.
