Chapter 1 A Business Arrangement
Mia Cecil crept behind a fern, its curly, green tendrils tickling her cheek.
“There he is!” Beatrice tilted her head toward the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Where?” Mia pushed aside the fern leaves and craned her neck. “The gentleman with the bushy eyebrows?”
He had a scowl that seemed to match that of the villain she imagined in her head.
“No, no, no.” Beatrice tilted her head. “The man in the purple-patterned vest and the silky, blue lapels. With the—”
“I see him.” Now that Beatrice was being specific, the man was impossible to miss. His brightly colored vest caught the light of the chandeliers and actually shimmered. It was the sort of clothing that demanded attention even from across the room and behind a fern.
“He’s younger than I thought he’d be…” Mia searched his face for a flaw. “But otherwise unremarkable.”
“Don’t be foolish.” Beatrice scoffed. “He’s dazzling.”
“That doesn’t make him any less of a villain.”
If anything, that made things easier. Mia had fully expected to have to seduce an ogre. She swallowed and smoothed down her hair.
Even if Maximus Bell wasn’t an ogre, he was still one of the many members of the landed gentry whom the gossips liked to call a libertine, rake, or philanderer. Gambling, drinking, and fornicating were his favorite pastimes. Traits that made him very predictable.
“Who will introduce you?” Beatrice asked.
“Forget introductions. I only expect to have to deal with him if I get caught.”
“You really think you’re going to be able to just take it? Just like that?”
Mia smiled conspiratorially. “I have a plan… Well, sort of.”
First, she needed Beatrice, her friend and former pupil, to gain access to the home. Then, Mia was to scope out the place and find out where the Bells kept their books and other valuables.
Where to begin? Mia just needed to think. For a moment, she felt frozen. Her heart pounded hard in her chest, her breathing short and labored. She braced a hand against the cold, paneled wall.
Could she really do this? The plan had sounded so easy in her head on the carriage ride over.
But that was before she’d stepped out and seen the gray, stone manor looming over her, before she’d seen the dozens of servants milling about and the scrutinizing gaze of the tall, pointy-nosed butler.
They’d have their eyes on every guest for the rest of the evening.
She was never going to get away with this. But what she feared most was that the book wasn’t here at all.
From rumors in the Philippines to letters to the word of a trusted book restorer, her father had spent years searching for it.
It was one of few written in Baybayin, an ancient script used in the Philippines before the Spanish had arrived.
A book that wasn’t supposed to have survived the destructive hands of Christian missionaries.
For some scholars, it wasn’t even supposed to exist.
Her father believed otherwise. This book, he was certain, had been taken by the British, likely some soldier or officer during the empire’s short yet devastating invasion of Manila over a century ago.
It was the kind of book so strange and unusual that it was remembered everywhere it went, leaving a clear trail through history for her and her father to follow.
Mia had pictured the book a thousand times in her head: black waves of Baybayin text written on Spanish paper and bound not with leather, but black-and-brown crocodile skin.
For centuries, her ancestors highly revered the creatures for their supernatural healing abilities and connection to the spiritual world.
Though she couldn’t be sure, Mia liked to imagine that the crocodile hadn’t actually been killed for its skin, but had died some other way and transformed into the text as a form of honoring its spirit.
From time to time, she even had dreams of it being written and bound alongside crystals, bells, and chants.
She looked around at the shining floors and bit down. The book didn’t belong here, blast it. And she was going to take it back. Not just for herself, but for her ancestors. She was going to continue their work by preserving their knowledge.
Everything it had taken to trace the book here, the years and years of research by her father. She couldn’t give up now. He would have gladly taken her place if he had lived to see the day.
He, of all people, would have told her to keep going.
But she couldn’t ignore the potential consequences.
If Mr. Bell was not easily seduced or forgiving, she’d be facing the magistrate, or worse, whatever punishment Mr. Bell decided he was within his rights to inflict.
Probably a hundred lashings. She gulped.
Out here in the country, some noblemen believed they were so far above the law, they were the law.
“This manor is supposed to have over a hundred rooms,” Beatrice whispered. “Where do you think it is?”
“Probably the library.” Mia shrugged. But the truth was she didn’t know.
“And if you do find it,” Beatrice went on, “what will you do? Hide it under your skirts?”
Mia shushed her as she continued to study Mr. Bell. His hand fidgeted with his sleeve and he stared at the ground. Whomever he was talking with was clearly boring him. His eyes wandered up and down and then, before she could look away, straight at her.
She cringed, holding his gaze for a moment before finally ducking. She covered her face with her hands. The last thing she needed was to attract attention to herself.
“Come on.” Mia grabbed Beatrice’s arm. “Let’s start our search.”
“‘Search’?” Beatrice guffawed. “I agreed to accompany you here, not burglarize the place.”
Mia sighed. She was on her own, then. “Then off with you. Go fill up your dance card.”
While Beatrice, Mia had guessed, enjoyed vicariously participating in this little heist, she was much too afraid of getting caught to actually assist. Securing Mia an invitation to tonight’s ball was as far as she was willing to go.
Fully out in society now and with her school days behind her, Beatrice was far more concerned about finding a good catch.
“Good luck,” they both said at the same time.
With a laugh, Beatrice ran off.
Mia had no time to waste. Dinner was about to be served, meaning most of the servants would be occupied.
Something about this house told her its staff would be very unforgiving.
She could just tell. Even if she lied about getting lost, they would never believe her.
To the horror of the other guests, she’d probably be escorted out.
With a little more caution, she paced down the hallway toward the back of the house.
She was surprised. So far, she hadn’t seen a single servant. She’d been expecting so many things to go wrong. For once, everything was working out in her favor.
She eyed the doors. A library in a house as grand as this one could only have an entry of ornately carved double doors. She turned the corner and headed north. There were no other doors on the left or the right, but a set straight ahead. Like a beacon shining through the darkness. This was it.
Most manors, if their builders had any brains, placed libraries on the north side of the home, where sunlight was better diffused and not nearly so harsh. The softer amount of light also helped to better preserve their books.
The doors were deeply paneled and painted an unusual gleaming shade of silver. This room, whatever it was, had to be an important one. Her search was turning out to be very lucky, indeed. But if she was really lucky, the room wouldn’t be locked.
The silver knob was cold against her palm. Saying a silent prayer, she twisted.
Alas. It held firm.
She twisted again, pushing in the door just in case it was stuck, but the door didn’t budge. She knew her luck would run out.
She gave the door a kick.
Even if she had made her way in, who knew how long it would take her to find the book?
Unless, by chance, it was on display, behind a glass case that she could break with her fist. She knew better.
The book was likely shoved away somewhere and forgotten.
If this family had respected the book enough to be displayed, they’d have allowed it to be studied.
Instead, it was likely just sitting there.
When at any moment, before another soul got to lay eyes on it, the whole place could go up in flames or flood.
Who knew? It could happen. Anything could.
What was her plan now? The ball had been the best she could come up with. If she could have just gotten in, she could have left a window latch unopened and returned at night. She couldn’t just break the window. If she did, she’d have a pack of hounds set on her.
She slammed her palm against the door, then froze.
Someone cleared their throat loudly behind her. She swept around, her heart leaping out of her chest. She’d expected the butler. Instead, she saw him.
*
Max hated that he was little better than a fortune hunter. Yet that was exactly what this stupid ball was all about. Didn’t everyone see that? They had to. And yet every family in London high society was here. Smiling, no less. The line to greet his parents was out the door.
London could fan the flames of gossip and douse them just as fast. Everyone, even his mother, was nothing more than an actor in a play that was anything but entertaining.
He could only get through half of their fake smiles and stares before excusing himself.
His family might have been broke, but looking around at the flower arrangements and lavish spreads of food, no one would guess. The dips and gelatins even came molded as peacocks, lions, and sheep. Where did they come up with this stuff?