Chapter 21

"I hoped I would find you here."

Marianne paused in the library doorway, holding her candleholder aloft. She placed it on the buffet by the door, entering the room despite receiving only silence from Anthony in response.

He was slumped forward at one of the library tables, reviewing De Laurier's journal. Giving it to him while they were still in Norwich hadn't been safe. Marianne had slipped it to him upon their return to Moorhaven a few hours earlier, and Anthony had not been seen since, having ensconced himself in the library, where he had asked not to be disturbed.

Her sequined evening gown rustled as she approached him. He leaned back in his chair, sighing at the journal in front of him. The library was mostly dark, and the fire was slowly dying. Anthony's reading candle had been burned almost to a stub. He looked ethereally beautiful in the pale orange light. And more sorrowful than ever.

"I can't make heads nor tails of it," he whispered when Marianne settled beside him. He had rolled up his sleeves, and she found his cravat balled up on the table. "I know next to nothing about medicine. These notes are beyond my understanding. Beyond the understanding, I wager, of any common doctor."

He looked up at her, and the sadness in his eyes felled her completely.

"Did you see the drawings?" he asked.

"I did, but they didn't affect me overlong," she replied, forcing the images from her mind. "No harm can come from them. They were just drawings, after all."

"In here, they are." He tapped the journal with the back of his hand. "But these are not sketches created from the imagination of a madman. De Laurier considers himself a scientist. He has seen these things with his own eyes and recorded them."

"Is that ..." Marianne paused, unsure how doctors were trained—whether this was normal. "Would he have easy access to subjects of that nature?"

"It depends." Anthony scowled, not looking nearly as queasy as Marianne felt. "I have heard of private anatomical schools. But the demands far exceed the supply in regard to ..." He trailed off, and Marianne knew what he meant.

"I have read other things about resurrection men and worse. Considering his secrecy, I am inclined to believe that De Laurier did not conduct his research through the proper channels. Though I have no doubt my personal affiliation to this mystery is clouding my judgement ... my only wish is that you had not been forced to see the drawings too."

Anthony shook his head in disbelief, visibly disinclined to keep speaking about such matters with Marianne.

"Could my father have known what he was doing? Could Hindborough? Did they help? I cannot celebrate what we discovered because I have no idea what it all means." Anthony paused. "Did you find nothing else?"

Marianne took the seat beside him, resting her head on her hand as she thought back to her visit. "There were several strange things in his office, but like you, I don't know enough about medicine to know whether they were cause for concern. He had some curious-looking instruments and a cabinet full of small bottles labeled ambrosia. Each one had a set of initials like they were meant for someone specific."

"The lords in here, most likely." Anthony stared down at the journal. "De Laurier's entries aren't written in code, but he uses a vocabulary too specific for me to understand what he means. One thing is certain. Warren knows who De Laurier is because he is one of his patients. Yet another lies to add to the pile of secrets he kept from me."

"What about your father?" Marianne nodded at the journal. "Is he in there?"

Anthony nodded, his mouth twitching. "His name is mentioned. He seems to have been a patient as well. There is no mention of a specific illness for which De Laurier was treating him, only notes about his health, as though recorded over many different sessions. Perhaps an earlier journal would have revealed more."

He turned to Marianne, eyes rounded in alarm. "That is not to say that I am not grateful for what you brought back. This is evidence enough for me to know that Warren was involved in some manner in my father's death. I cannot thank you enough, Marianne. Nothing I can do will repay the debt I owe you."

She warmed at his words. "There is no debt between us. We are in this together." Her eyes fell to his clenched hand, and she wished she could take it in her own. "What did you say to De Laurier to keep him distracted while I searched the office?"

"Nothing particularly creative." Anthony smiled softly, closing the journal. "I burst in, demanding to speak with him about my father. He was rightfully outraged by my behaviour. There is nothing he can do to retaliate. Admitting that I was there would only dredge up questions about our connection, about my father. He will not speak about what happened today, even if he does realize the game we were playing. No, he will not speak. But we must, Marianne."

Anthony leaned in. Marianne's heart clenched in response. She had kept her distance since Hagram Park, and it had only intensified her yearning for him. She admired the gentle curve of his mouth, the freckle on his forehead, above his brow.

These were the details she loved most about his appearance—things only a woman who had been all but ruined by him could have noticed. Those private observations kept her up at night, every night, as she replayed the moment he had almost kissed her in her mind to soothe herself to sleep.

"How do you feel about our prospects?" she asked, worried another second of silence would make her do something she would regret.

"Like I am approaching the end of a long journey," Anthony replied, not moving an inch from her. "I feel many other things. Confused, betrayed, worried ..."

Marianne smiled. "But nothing good?"

"Oh, no." He shook his head. "There are many good things I feel as well. But they cannot rise fully to the surface until I have dealt with the Webbs. This is the start of their end. And it is all thanks to you."

His eyes softened at the edges. "Had you not arrived here, I might have gone my entire life not knowing what really happened to my father. I must still confront Warren for answers. There is still so much to be revealed. And yet, that does not change the fact that you entered my life and changed the course of it for the better. Living a lie under Warren's thumb ... that would have been my destiny."

"What do you want for yourself now?" she asked. The question was dangerous. She had preconceived notions of what Anthony should do—of what she wanted him to do. "If you remove this threat, you can go anywhere and be anything you like."

"You make me want to believe that." He leaned in a little more, scanning her face for the answers to a question neither of them had asked. Marianne held her breath. "Thank you for that as well."

Like the sun, he came and went, drawing back from Marianne and leaving her in darkness. She swallowed, smoothing out her skirts now that the moment was over. Anthony took the journal and rose from the table, extending a hand to help Marianne to her feet.

His touch sent a jolt of electricity up her arm. She paused, relishing the excitement it stirred within her. They had spoken of the future. Marianne had no idea whether she would figure in his. Though she wanted to, most desperately.

"I do not think I should confront Warren with this immediately," Anthony said, releasing her. "If we are wrong in our assumptions and misjudged the situation, he will bring down the sword and force me into a marriage with Eliana. I have every confidence they are working together—now if not before."

He looked towards the fire. "So, it is not to Hagram Park that we should go next, but to London. You should become the lady you were born to be—and I should become the duke. A more favourable position for both of us if the worst should come to pass."

"Whatever you think is best." Marianne took in a deep breath. "But from the sounds of things, we should not wait long. If Eliana discovers what we are doing ..."

"We will not give her the chance." Anthony extinguished his candle and proceeded to the door. "We will leave for London in two days. Once we have taken what is rightfully ours, Eliana will know for definite that we are not to be trifled with."