Free Skylark by Jo Beverley Page A

study.
    She had a story prepared, though it didn’t stop her heart from pounding. Lord Caldfort kept road guides in his study. Her excuse would be that she wished to study tomorrow’s route. It was flimsy because she knew the way well, but it would do.
    She was, after all, an idiot woman.
    When she arrived at the door, Laura paused once more, ears pricked for any sound, but then she entered the room without further hesitation. If someone was watching, she must not look furtive, even if she felt it. She couldn’t believe that she was intruding into someone’s study intent on reading his private correspondence.
    She crept to the desk, put her candlestick down there, and surveyed the surface again. Nothing had changed since before dinner, except that now she could open the two small containers on top of the desk. The box held small coins; the bowl was empty.
    She hadn’t expected it to be so easy, but it would have been a pleasant surprise.
    Aware that she was passing from excusable to inexcusable, she went around and sat in her father-in-law’s chair. If anyone came in here now, she was sunk.
    She tugged on the handle of the central drawer—and it slid out. She almost laughed with surprise. It didn’t hold letters, however, but only the necessities for writing them. There were sheets of paper, pens, and some open boxes holding sticks of sealing wax, sand, a penknife and such.
    She closed that and tried the top one on the left.
    Locked.
    That was to be expected, but the center one had given her hope. She quickly tried the others, but all were locked. She muttered the sort of word that ladies were not supposed to know and considered again whether it would be possible to force the drawers open. The locks did not look sturdy, but she couldn’t see how to do it without leaving marks.
    She glared at the desk. Expecting difficulties didn’t make them any the less disappointing, but she regrouped and put her mind to work. If the key was here, where would it be?
    She lifted and examined every object on the top of the desk, even peering into the inkwell. At that insanity, she reminded herself that the key wasn’t hidden in that sense. Lord Caldfort presumably used it every day. He wouldn’t fish it out of ink.
    She felt under the kneehole and down the inner sides. She was about to crawl under when she realized that her father-in-law was incapable of that.
    So where?
    She looked around the room at a daunting array of bookshelves and objets d’art. The key could be anywhere, but the more she thought about it, the more sure she was that Lord Caldfort would not want to be heaving himself up out of his chair to get the key or to hide it.
    So where?
    It seemed too careless a place, but she opened the center drawer again and explored it all the way to the back. Nothing but dust. She poked through the box of sand—nothing—then tipped out the box of sealing wax into her lap.
    A small ornate key glinted in the light of her candle.
    Hardly able to believe it, she tried the key in the lock of the top drawer on the left. It clicked sweetly. Could she take this as divine approval? No. This intrusion was wicked, but she had to do it. She put back the sealing wax and closed the center drawer, then settled to her search.
    The top left drawer contained ledgers and estate portfolios. No letters. She closed that drawer and locked it, then opened the next one down. A few more ledgers. The bottom one was empty. Of course, bending so low would be difficult.
    She opened the top one on the right.
    Letters!
    They were all folded, but the seals she could see were broken. Ones received, not ones waiting to be sent. This was what she was looking for.
    There was more than a day’s worth, however. Laura tried to remember how many had been on the desk this morning when Lord Caldfort had given her the letter from Juliet. Perhaps six? She counted quickly. Eleven.
    Did he keep the letters in order of arrival? She wanted to intrude as little as possible in