Page 72 of A Single Thread of Moonlight

“Of course,” I agreed.

When I was sure Stefan was gone, I turned on Nick. “What on earth is the matter with you?”

Nick bit into his toast, leaning back in his seat. He chewed thoughtfully and then answered, “I don’t think there’s anything particularly the matter, though I could do with a cup of coffee.”

The feeling of disappointment grew. The Nick I had glimpsed last night was gone again, well and truly shut away behind his society facade.

I sat up straight and sipped my tea, trying not to care.

“Tell me how things are proceeding with Stefan,” Nick said.

“He has started dropping hints about how well we suit as a couple,” I replied. “He is attentive. You heard him suggest a walk today…”

Nick frowned down at the table. “People were remarking about how he singled you out last night,” he agreed, his voice flat.

“I thought you’d be pleased.”

“I am,” he said, “but it’s not enough. We need him to propose. There is less than a week left.”

“What exactly would you have me do?” I asked, standing up and tossing my napkin on to the table. “You want me to throw myself at him? That won’t catch your prince. He’s looking for a love match … or at least the possibility of one. He’s sensitive, romantic.”

Nick gave a humourless bark of laughter. “Is he? No, I don’t want you to throw yourself at him. I’m afraid that the next push will have to come from me.”

I waited but he didn’t explain, simply continued to glare at the top of the table, clearly lost in thought.

The door opened and the footman entered.

“I’ll leave you to your breakfast, then,” I said.

“Mmm,” Nick murmured. He glanced at the footman. “Coffee, please. Strong as you can.”

There seemed to be nothing more to say and so I left, deflated. In the doorway I turned to look back at Nick, but he was still slumped in his chair, turning over whatever schemes were running through his mind.

It didn’t matter, I reminded myself. I had far more important things to attend to this morning, and so I went in search of Cassie.

I found her in her room.

“You want to do what?” Cassie exclaimed when I had explained my plan.

“I want to go to see my father’s solicitor and break into his files,” I said as calmly as possible. “I need to understand the terms of the will.”

I was sitting in the armchair in Cassie’s room while she paced in front of the fireplace.

“But why?” Cassie asked, bewildered.

“I want to know where I stand,” I said. “Before I reveal myself.” It was as close to the truth as I felt I could give her. However much she wanted to help me, I could not tell her I suspected her own mother of murder, that I was looking for a clue as to her motive.

Cassie sank into the chair across from me and chewed on her lip. “It makes sense,” she said. “I’m afraid I have as little idea as you do about the finer details of the will. My mother is already counting your third of the inheritance as her own, I know that much. In a couple of weeks’ time, she’ll be able to have you declared dead and then I think things will become a lot more complicated. No one here has seen you for seven years – even proving that you are who you are could take some time. She’ll probably fight you for it.” She looked at me, worry in her eyes. “Iris, you don’t have to come back at all if you don’t want to. I’d share my portion of the inheritance with you – I’d do it happily. I know it’s not as much as you should get, but it’s better than being under my mother’s control for over two years.”

“It’s not just about the money, Cassie,” I said. “It’s about my home, my name … my father’s name.”

“Of course,” she murmured. “It’s all wrong, isn’t it? Us living here, while you…” She trailed off.

My stepsister had been more shocked by my story of running away and living in London than I had expected. Although she had never quite believed in my untimely, watery death, she hadn’t realized that Helena had fabricated the whole thing. I had also withheld the truth about Nick and his plans for Stefan – that wasn’t my secret to share. I had simply told Cassie that he was a friend who had agreed to help me. How long that lie would hold I wasn’t sure, but I was thinking on my feet.

“Cassie,” I said firmly, “none of this is your fault. We were children when everything happened. What could you have done? I’m back now, and I need to work out what to do next. I need your help.”

She seemed to absorb this, and her spine straightened a little. Some of her usual determination came back into her face, and a glimmer of humour showed in her eyes. “And the best way I can help you is by breaking into a solicitor’s office with you?”