Excerpt!
“Doctor Ottowell Blackwood.”
A collective hush fell over the group and Imogene noticed Sibylla’s face drained of all color.
“Dear God,” she whispered.
For the first time since being at the Grange, Sibylla looked up and locked eyes with Randolph. Imogene saw Randolph look at Sibylla, then turn his narrowed eyes on Monty. It was an accusatory look as if he had not told them about this final guest that no one was pleased to see.
Monty stood, brushing at his dinner jacket, and moved forward to greet his guest.
“How are you, old chap?” They shook hands. “Last to arrive I see. With the storm so heavily upon us, we didn’t think you’d make it.”
“Hello, Monty,” Ottowell said, all charm. “I came in early. I was staying at the Inn. Almost didn’t make it here. Damned driver didn’t want to bring me, but money talks, eh?”
The footman came by and Ottowell took a glass of champagne.
“I think you know everyone here except Miss York,” Monty said. Playing the host, he introduced them.
Ottowell nodded to Imogene as the introduction was made and then walked over to Juliana. “Lady Meare now, isn’t it?”
“It is. How good to see you, Otto.” A smile was fixed on her face but Imogene got the distinct impression the woman was not pleased to see him.
Imogene took in the room of assembled people and felt the immediate shift in the air. She couldn’t explain it and the emotion eluded her, but something had changed. Surely the doctor was just another guest for the reading of the will. Another legacy that Alaric had bestowed. Then why did everyone seem so strained?
She glanced over at Godfrey, who was looking into the fire completely disconnected from the group. As the solicitor of the estate, he must have known Ottowell Blackwood would be coming but he didn’t appear pleased to see him in the flesh. As she glanced at the others, they seemed even less than thrilled at his arrival.
As she glanced over at Sibylla, her expression was awful. Her hand was trembling as she held the glass of champagne while her face was stark white. Without realizing it, Sibylla dropped her glass of champagne onto the carpet.
“I’m terribly sorry,” she said. “Forgive me, I must—” and then without saying another word she left.
The reverend had a shocked look on his face as he stared at the new guest, which was then replaced with a wariness she had not seen before. He watched Ottowell cautiously almost as if waiting for him to pounce.
“Ah, Clarence,” Blackwood approached him. “The old village vicar. Still preaching the fire and brimstone?”
“Yes,” was his only response.
Imogene noticed the reverend’s eyes darting around the room, as if looking to the others for guidance. Seeing none, he focused on the floor and didn’t engage with Ottowell.
But when Imogene looked at Randolph, there was no denying that emotion. It was pure hatred. His jaw was clenched and his right hand was balled up into a fist. Blackwood knew better than to taunt him and the two men said nothing to one another.
“Decent of you to send the letter, Jewels.” He returned to Juliana’s side. “I was thinking on the journey here, what on earth will I spend my legacy on?”
“A new soul?” Randolph said in an icy voice.
Juliana’s laughter trickled out. “Rolf, behave yourself. We’re all friends here.”
“Are we?” Randolph said as his eyes remained fixated on Ottowell.
“Certainly we are,” she chided him. “We all go back so long ago, don’t we?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” the reverend mumbled mostly to himself.
“Don’t make me remove the liquor,” Juliana said lightly. “Everyone behave themselves.”
Imogene was watching the faces of them all and she caught Randolph looking back at her. She remembered what he had said to her in the billiard room and she had denied it then. But she was most definitely watching them now. She took a long assessing look at Ottowell Blackwood and saw nothing strange.
He was dressed impeccably in a dark suit and his handlebar mustache was sharp and distinct. He appeared to be a self-made man who would be friends with the lord and lady of the Grange. He joked with Juliana and made snide remarks to the reverend, so why did she get the sense that he was not at all welcome?
“Godfrey! How is the firm? Good?” Ottowell asked, moving to speak to the solicitor.
She saw Randolph move quickly to Monty’s side.
“You should have told us,” he said lowly. “Makes me wonder why you kept it from us.”
“Why? I need your permission?” Monty returned. “He’s in the will. He has to be here. Just like all of us.”
“Right,” Randolph said, giving Monty a long, hard look.
Randolph excused himself and Imogene saw the reverend stand suddenly. He took the flask out from his pocket and raised it in front of everyone to see. He held it up to Ottowell and stopped. Imogene felt afraid for the man. Whatever was happening to him, he appeared to be unraveling before their eyes.
“To you, Blackwood.” He took a long swig and then placed it back in his coat pocket. “Welcome home.”
Author bio:
Nicola is a Los Angeles native. Early in elementary school, Nicola had a great fondness for reading and began to write creatively. She graduated from university with a degree in communications and has held a variety of positions in journalism, education, government and non profit.
Nicola has traveled extensively throughout Europe, China, Central America and Egypt and loves all things historical.
She has nineteen historical romance and mystery novels on Amazon.
https://linktr.ee/authornicolaitalia
Yorkshire, 1881. Imogene York has one job: authenticate a dead man’s signature and witness the reading of his will. It should take an afternoon.
But the moment she arrives at Trelawney Grange, she can tell the people gathered to hear Lord Alaric Trelawney’s final wishes aren’t waiting on an inheritance. They’re waiting on something they’ve spent fifteen years hoping would stay buried.
Every person in that house-the doctor, the solicitor, the reverend, the aristocrat, the household staff who move through it like they were never there at all-is bound together by a secret from one terrible summer years before, and no one will say what it is. As the snow closes in and the will’s true purpose comes to light, Imogene realizes she wasn’t hired to verify a signature. She was hired to witness a reckoning fifteen years in the making, and there is no walking away from the past.
A gripping Victorian mystery about the debts the past never stops collecting, and the lengths people will go to keep a secret buried or to finally bring it to light.
Check it out on Goodreads!
Buy your copy from Amazon
Nicola is a Los Angeles native. Early in elementary school, Nicola had a great fondness for reading and began to write creatively. She graduated from university with a degree in communications and has held a variety of positions in journalism, education, government and non profit.
Nicola has traveled extensively throughout Europe, China, Central America and Egypt and loves all things historical.
She has nineteen historical romance and mystery novels on Amazon.
https://linktr.ee/authornicolaitalia
