Page 87 of Impetuous

“Perhaps you could manage to slip the book into your pocket while he isn’t looking.”

Philip feigned shock. “I had not realized what a larcenous girl I was marrying.”

“We would return it as soon as we got the map out of it,” Cassandra protested. “But it isn’t workable. He would be bound to notice if you didn’t return the book to him. However, we don’t have to have the whole book. You can look through it and find the map. I shall distract him and give you plenty of time to examine it. I know enough from Papa about old books to keep him talking for quite a while.”

“Cassandra…” Philip’s face was tinged with concern.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” She had the sudden, horrible notion that he was going to tell her that he had reconsidered the engagement, and she realized how very much she did not want him to.

“It’s just…well, I am afraid that the map may not be there.”

“Oh.” Cassandra felt almost giddy with relief at his words.

“It has been a very long time, and the book has passed through two owners since my father, as well as the book dealer, twice. Father’s agent…God knows how many Nevilles have opened it and looked through it. I am afraid that the map was found long ago and simply tossed away. No one would have known what it was.”

“But Margaret would not have simply stuck it into the book among the pages. I am sure she would have been more subtle than that. She would have wanted to make sure that it couldn’t fall out. Perhaps she somehow tucked it inside the cover or attached it to a page or something.”

“Perhaps. I hope so. I just don’t want you to be too disappointed if this turns out to be a dead end.”

“I won’t be,” Cassandra promised, faintly surprised to find that she was telling the truth. She was beginning to discover that her love for Philip overshadowed everything else.

They drove to Mr. Bigby’s residence a few hours later, where they were shown immediately to his drawing room.

Mr. Bigby popped up out of his chair and bustled over to them. He was a balding, stocky man, bluff and energetic. “Sir Philip!” he cried and shook Philip’s hand enthusiastically. No matter what the size of his fortune, he was obviously impressed to be hobnobbing with a baronet. “It is an honor to meet you. An honor, indeed. And Miss Verrere. I once read an article by your father—it was about an illuminated manuscript. Most erudite. Most erudite, indeed.”

He paused for a breath, and they murmured polite words of greeting.

“I am sure you are eager to see that book, now, aren’t you?” Bigby told his butler, hovering outside the door, to bring them refreshments in the library. Then he hustled Cassandra and Philip off down the hall.

It was an impressive place, almost as large as the library at Haverly House. Several of the bookcases were fronted with glass, which locked to keep out intrusive hands. “These are my old books, the rare ones.”

He went to the center locked cabinet. In the middle, on the second shelf by itself, facing out, was a small, old leather-bound book. A row of small pearls, a few of them missing, lined the front cover.

Bigby unlocked the front of the cabinet and raised it, indicating to Cassandra, who was standing nearest, to take the book. Gingerly, Cassandra picked it up and took it out of the case.

“Oh, it’s lovely,” she breathed, appreciation of the antique volume overcoming even her desire for the map for the moment.

The spine of the book held three large jewels. The edges of the pages were gilt and the paper tissue thin. Cassandra opened the cover with great care and read the faded, spidery writing inside. “‘For Sir Everard, my loyal knight. Elizabeth R.’ Oh, my. I can hardly believe I am holding this in my hands—something Queen Elizabeth once held.”

She lifted her face and looked at Mr. Bigby. Perfect understanding gleamed in his eyes. “It takes your breath away, doesn’t it?”

Cassandra nodded. She remembered herself enough to glance through the book a little, discreetly checking on the insides of the covers and flipping through the thin pages. Nothing fell out of it or made itself immediately apparent. She handed the book to Philip. “Look at this. Isn’t it wonderful?”

He nodded, taking it, a similar awe on his features. Cassandra turned away, taking Mr. Bigby’s arm. “Would you mind showing me some more of your collection? It is vast. What are these books over here?” She gently tugged him away from Philip.

It was not hard to get Mr. Bigby talking about what was obviously his favorite subject. He showed her around the library, opening several of the glass shelves and taking out books for her to inspect. Cassandra oohed and aahed over them and fortunately had enough knowledge from her father to ask intelligent questions. Bigby beamed, expounding on each book. Cassandra was sure she could have kept him talking even longer, but finally a servant knocked on the door and entered with their refreshments.

Philip, smiling politely, handed back the prayer book to Bigby, thanking him for allowing him to look at it. “If ever you want to sell it, please let me know.”

“Of course, of course. But I doubt that day will come—at least until I’m dead.” He stroked a loving hand across the cover and set the book reverently back in its place of honor, closing the shelf and relocking it.

Cassandra looked at Sir Philip, trying to determine from his face whether he had found the map, but he wore a maddeningly wooden expression. She was forced to wait through a polite consumption of tea and several more pleasantries before they took their leave and she was able to question him.

“Well?” she asked eagerly as soon as she had taken a seat in the carriage, while Philip was still closing the door.

He looked across at her and smiled. Her hopes rose. “Well…I looked all through it and couldn’t find a thing. I peered down the spine and felt all around the cover for a slit cut into it or a bump beneath it. Nothing.”

Cassandra slumped. “Oh, no…”