The Vanishing at Loxby Manor, Abigail Wilson [best value ebook reader .TXT] 📗

father, mistaken by the source of my questions,thought I’d come across a book he’d hidden in the library and decided to tell Avery and me something of the society, if wekept it secret of course. I thought little of the group and never even pursued the book he mentioned. I had my own troublesat the time.”

I sat up. “Is that what you were about up there?”

“I thought maybe I had found it when the shelf fell.”

I pointed with my good hand. “Then by all means, go see at once.”

He smiled. “I believe I will.”

He crossed the room and knelt at the pile of books lying in a heap on the floor. Carefully he sifted through each one, openingand closing them until he came to a thin leather volume with rumpled pages. I could see the print was handwritten from acrossthe room. He glanced up over the book’s edge. “Lucky break.”

He pushed to his feet and made his way back to the sofa, sitting close so we could both see the pages.

Neither of us heard Baker until he cleared his throat. “May I help you, sir?”

Like a guilty child, Piers scooted away. “Ah, Baker, as you can see, Miss Halliwell has injured her arm. We’ll need some clothand bandages to fashion a sling.”

His eyes slid to the broken shelf. “I understand.” Then he turned and left the room.

We watched his retreating figure until he disappeared from sight, the tickling fingers of embarrassment fighting for controlof the situation. I felt a hint of a laugh on Piers’s breath, but we were far too interested in the book he’d found to giveit rein. We crouched in again, his arm sliding neatly across the back of the sofa behind me. My finger brushed his as I movedto turn the page, and he looked up ever so briefly at my face.

A heaviness hit my chest and I forced a breath. I knew in my heart he’d made no move to get close to me, not after what happenedat the abbey, but here he was so real and my every waking thought of him so confusing. He only wanted friendship from me,so why did my mind keep slipping back to another place and time?

I imagined inching forward and kissing him. Goodness, my muscles still remembered the movement and ached to do just that, but could I actually bring myself to do so after everything that had happened—to willingly surrender myself to another man? And what would it feel like? What would I feel like? Would he kiss me back?

The moment passed as quickly as it had come, Piers clearly not as affected as I was. He pointed to a picture on the secondpage, his voice steady. “Look, this is similar to the medal I found in my father’s drawer, but smaller, and this one has aribbon of Persian ivy. See the large leaves.”

I squinted at the sketched picture. “Only you would know that. It also has the sun you were describing earlier, but this oneis a collar jewel.”

Piers snapped me a sideways glance before turning the page. Scrolled across the top in large letters were the words Members and Loyalty Pledge. We read in silence for several minutes, each handwritten line more interesting than the last.

The book seemed to be an outline for membership as well as the means by which each person took what they called a loyaltypledge. Apparently in order to join the Gormogons the pending member would have to relinquish condemning information regardinghimself or one of his family members, which would then be kept by the society as absolute collateral for loyalty to the organization.

Piers flipped through the remaining pages, but one section was torn out. He slid the book onto a nearby table. “My fathersaid he was not in the organization long.”

“What collateral do you think he gave them?”

He shrugged. “It could have been anything. The Cavanaghs have not been the wisest group of people.”

I wanted to laugh at the truth of his statement, but pain was evident in his eyes.

Though the world had branded Piers disgraceful, I had never thought of him that way, even before I knew the truth. As a youngman he was bright, methodical, conscientious. Nothing like his siblings.

“Do you think Avery is following in your father’s footsteps? He did call it a secret society.”

“But they disbanded years ago. This group or whatever he likes to call it seems more to me like playacting.”

“Yet they’ve arranged for some kind of mischief at the curricle race. Sabotage is nothing to take lightly.”

“No, it isn’t.” Piers angled against the back of the sofa, his arm behind his head. “And Avery is too far involved to stopit now. I’m afraid we’ve little choice but to go to Whitecaster Hall and do a little hunting ourselves.”

My eyes widened. “You mean to the ball? Will we even be invited?”

“Mother will certainly have an invitation. Kendal’s fiancée, Honora, is a distant cousin of ours. Mother will need an escort.”

“Yes, Honora . . .” My voice felt weak. “I know I already asked, but what exactly happened between you and her?”

He took so long to answer I began to wonder if he’d heard the question at all. But then his eyes met mine and he spoke rathersoftly. “You know full well it was wrong from the start. I knew it. She knew it. But our parents were so pleased by the association.”

“Was she one of the reasons you wrote me that letter?”

The color seemed to drain from his face.

I added quickly, “I’m not accusing you of anything. I just wondered.”

He spoke with determined calm, but I felt the charge of the silence that crept into our conversation, starting and stopping his words. “I told you before you left that I had to settle things between Honora and me. But life has a way of changing things when you least expect it. In that same time I was branded a coward, shunned by society, disdained by my mother. I could no more pursue you than any young lady. Honora publicly