Page 55 of The Beautiful Ones

I folded Nathaniel’s letter and thrust it inside my bodice. The ledger was too large to conceal. I lowered it into the open drawer, but footsteps shifted beyond the door and panic made my hands clumsy. The false lining would not lie flat.

Another key entered the lock.

I seized the ledger and ran to the far side of the room. The velvet curtain behind the desk concealed a low casement window. I wedged the book between the curtain and the wall, then pressed myself into the narrow darkness beside it.

The door opened.

Three men entered carrying the smell of brandy and fear.

“Lock it,” Monsieur Lebon—the man who owned my contract, though not my person—said sharply.

The key turned again.

Through a gap in the curtain, I saw Monsieur Lebon cross to the decanter. Judge Dewey remained near the door, listening to the corridor. Reuben George paced before the desk, wringing his hands until the knuckles shone.

“They know about Norfolk,” Reuben said. “Fairhaven asked me whether the Sea Nymph found the inlet difficult last November. He named the ship, Étienne.”

“Keep your voice down.”

“Five hundred souls in a year, and Vale recorded every one of them. If his papers survived—”

“Vale did not survive,” Judge Dewey said.

The room went silent.

Outside the door, a floorboard gave a small complaint.

Someone was listening in the corridor.

Monsieur Lebon heard it too. He turned toward the door, but Reuben caught his sleeve.

“Explain the Fairhavens. Explain how Adrian knows the depth of that grave.”

“No one knows where we put him,” Monsieur Lebon hissed. “The lime took everything.”

My fingers closed around the curtain until the velvet twisted in my fist.

The shadow beneath the study door moved. A narrow edge of blue fabric appeared and vanished.

Cécile.

She had followed the secret to the same door.

I wanted to warn her away, but even breathing seemed too loud.

Monsieur Lebon moved behind the desk and pulled open the bottom drawer.

The felt lining stood crooked.

He stopped.

“Someone has been in here.”

Judge Dewey crossed the room. Reuben reached for the bellpull.

I turned toward the casement window. Layers of paint sealed its latch. I pushed once. Nothing moved.

“Search the room,” Monsieur Lebon said.