One evening, she ordered the kitchen emptied before the tea tray arrived. Daniel entered to find her standing beside the fireplace, fully dressed.
Between those entries were payments to physicians and notes concerning the inheritance.
John wrapped the book beneath his coat.
Before sunrise, he carried it to Samuel Whitmore, Anthony’s nephew.
***
Samuel had arrived from Lisbon two weeks earlier to inspect the properties Eleanor occupied. He disliked her, distrusted her accounts, and expected eventually to inherit everything.
John understood this.
He had not come searching for a good man.
He had come searching for a useful enemy.
Samuel read several pages without speaking.
Then John placed another document before him: a letter from Eleanor’s physician, hidden inside the ledger.
There was no pregnancy.
There had never been one.
Yet Eleanor had recently written to Anthony’s overseas trustees announcing that she expected a child.
“She means to claim the ships,” John said.
Samuel looked up.
“Where did you get these?”
“Somewhere she thought I couldn’t read.”
For the first time, Samuel studied him
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