The night at Hartwell felt tense. I liked when the house seemed to ignore me. Tonight, it didn't.
I stood in the dressing room with the ledger locked in my bag and a coat. The sensible part of me wanted to stay home with tea. The other part larger and louder wanted answers.
Sebastian arrived on time, dressed in black.
"Breaking in?" I asked. "Or is this a butler's night out?"
"Chapter one," he replied, handing me a pair of gloves. "Don't trip over your own cleverness."
"Good thing I'm nimble." I put the gloves on and tried not to look impressed.
The drive east took us past misty hedges and lonely lanterns. The fields opened under a silver moon.
"You never told me why you stayed," I said, looking at the road.
"I gave your father my word," he answered. "A promise to keep certain matters quiet until someone was ready to face them."
"Quiet? That sounds ominous."
He didn't respond.
Rosegate appeared like a rumor. an old stone mansion behind rusty gates, covered in ivy. Lights shone in two upstairs windows. The gates stood open, either welcoming or warning—I couldn't tell.
We parked under a maple tree whose leaves murmured about bad choices. The night air smelled faintly of smoke, the same scent that had slipped through Hartwell's keyhole. Coincidence seemed unlikely.
Sebastian moved first, silently across the gravel. I followed, my boots crunching loudly. Overgrown hedges formed a maze around the side door, where an old brass handle seemed to expect us.
Inside, the hall felt cold. Faint music floated from deeper in the house, a scratchy record playing a tune from another time. The wallpaper faded to a color.
A small study branched off the main hallway. On a table lay a ledger almost identical to mine, its leather darker. I opened it, my heart started racing.
The entries matched Hartwell's book—dates, initials—but several names were crossed out. A news clipping lay beside it. a charity announcement featuring the man from lunch, smiling like he was hiding something.
My father's world was bigger and stranger than I'd realized.
Footsteps creaked overhead.
Sebastian touched my sleeve, a silent warning. We slipped behind a velvet curtain that smelled of dust and history. My shoulder pressed against his. his calm made my nerves sharper.
The music stopped.
A lantern glow shone across the staircase, swinging as someone came down. I held my breath.
Julian.
My cousin, the family perfectionist, walked into the hall holding a brass lantern. He spoke into a phone in a low voice.
"Yes," he said, pausing at the bottom step. "The ledger is still here. No, she hasn't made a move yet."
My chest tightened. She. That meant me.
Sebastian's grip on my sleeve helped steady me, although my thoughts raced ahead. Julian? The man obsessed with dinner arrangements?
Julian turned, lantern light catching his sharp features. "Tomorrow night," he said into the phone. "Same plan. If she shows, we'll be ready."
He hung up and let silence settle. The lantern flame flickered as he look the room. For a moment, I thought he might see us.
I stifled a laugh—a nervous response that had betrayed me earlier. Of course, I would pick now to laugh.
The lantern rose higher. Julian took a step toward the curtain.
Sebastian whispered close to my ear. "Stay still."
The flame brightened, illuminating the curtain in gold. Julian's shadow stretched long across the wall.
Then I heard another door creak deeper in the house. Julian went rigid, turning his head. He lowered the lantern, muttering something I couldn't catch, and walked toward the noise, disappearing into the hallway.
When he was gone, I felt the curtain lift, as if it released a breath.
Sebastian leaned closer, his voice sharp. "We should leave. Now."
But my eyes remained on the dark hallway where Julian had gone. Somewhere in that stillness lay the rest of my father's secrets—and a cousin who seemed to make late-night calls for espionage.
I tightened my grip on the ledger. The word "Stop" echoed in my mind.
"Tomorrow night," I murmured, matching Julian's earlier words. "Fine. Let's see who's really ready."
Outside, the garden lanterns flickered one by one, as if the estate itself approved the challenge.
Sebastian closed the side door behind us. The night air smelled like ivy, similar to the scent in Hartwell's hallway.
"You know," he said quietly, "he's not the only one waiting for you tomorrow."
I adjusted my bag strap. "Good. Let them all wait.".
He looked at me for a moment, the lantern light fading behind him. "You sound like your father when you say things like that."
"Then maybe I'm finally listening." I looked back at Rosegate. Its windows were dark, and a curtain moved, like someone was watching. Or maybe the house was restless. I couldn't tell which scared me more.
Sebastian closed the door quietly. "Tomorrow," he said.
Tomorrow felt important, carrying secrets and uncertainty. I tightened my coat and faced the road, already planning how to keep going without stopping.
The gravel path crunched under our feet as we walked toward the trees. Behind us, Rosegate was quiet, but it felt tense.
Halfway to the car, I heard a faint sound coming from the mansion. a scratchy record played a single warped note before it stopped. I froze in place.
Sebastian tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at the dark windows. "Someone wants you to remember you were here," he said softly.
The breeze shifted, bringing that sharp smell of smoke I had noticed in Hartwell. It curled around the maple leaves and then disappeared, like it was just there to remind me.
"Tomorrow," I said, trying to sound steady even though I didn't feel that way.
Sebastian nodded once. "So tonight, we sleep with the lights on."
I almost smiled at that, almost. My gaze stayed on the mansion, where a single upstairs lantern flickered on for a moment and then went dark.