Page 50 of Redemption for the Baron

Bridget stepped forward, meeting his steady eyes. “Then tell me, my lord, what exactly are we to be looking for?”

Blackwood hesitated, his fingers flexing almost imperceptibly. “I know where it was,” he said finally, shrugging as if the answer were trivial. “But where it is now depends on how thoroughly you search.”

Bridget’s pulse quickened. “Who took it?”

Blackwood’s smirk returned, dark and knowing. “Be careful, Lady Bridget. Sometimes, when you dig for secrets, you find things best left buried.”

His parting words sent a ripple of unease through her, confirming that he knew more than he revealed.

“Thomas, why would Blackwood admit he knows where Alastair’s notes were, yet refuse to tell us?” Bridget asked, her tone laced with equal parts frustration and curiosity.

His gaze darkened as he considered the question. “I suspect he seeks to hold that knowledge as leverage, testing if we’re resourceful enough to uncover the truth on our own. Perhaps he is conflicted by his own loyalties, or simply put, protecting interests that run deeper than our investigation. In this dangerous game, he believes it’s wiser to keep such vital information hidden until he’s certain the consequences won’t fall on him, or on any of us.”

After Bridget’s pointed remark, Thomas reached out and gently squeezed her hand in silent reassurance. “Let’s not allow his evasiveness to slow us,” he murmured. “We must resume our search. There are hidden compartments and neglected drawers in this room that might still contain Alastair’s secrets.”

Bridget nodded, swallowing her frustration. With renewed determination, they returned to their search. Methodically, they began examining every detail, the dusty ledgers, the false bottoms of drawers, even the spines of books lining the shelves that might shelter forgotten pages.

Together, they moved with quiet urgency, each discovery a small victory in their quest to piece together Alastair’s final message before the Order could silence it forever.

Chapter Seventeen

Bridget stepped outside,letting the crisp morning air cool the restless thoughts swirling in her mind. She found Catriona near the flower beds, her basket already half-filled with fresh blooms. The scent of rosemary and lavender lingered in the air as she clipped another sprig and placed it carefully among the others.

Catriona glanced up, offering a faint smile. “You look deep in thought, my lady.”

Bridget exhaled. “There is much to think about.” She gestured toward the basket. “Are those for Marjory?”

Catriona shook her head. “For you, actually. I thought some fresh flowers might make your room feel less…” She trailed off, searching for the right word.

Bridget gave a small smile. “Less like a house in mourning?”

Catriona nodded, the corners of her mouth tightening. “Everything feels different now. The household is working hard to keep things running as usual, but it’s difficult. Mrs. Simmons met with us and told us nothing has changed at Alastair Court, but we all know it will never be the same.” She hesitated, then added quietly, “Many of them have been here for years. Lord Alastair took care of them. They worry whether Lady Marjory will go to London or decide to stay here.”

Bridget’s chest tightened at the thought. She sat on the stone bench next to Catriona. “And Marjory herself?”

Catriona’s fingers stilled on the flower stem she had been about to cut. “She barely eats. She speaks when necessary, butit’s as if she’s moving through a fog. She hasn’t spoken much about anything.”

Bridget sighed, glancing toward the house. “That’s understandable. Losing a husband is—” She stopped herself. “She must feel as if everything has shifted beneath her feet.”

Catriona hesitated, then cut the stem and laid it in the basket. “If it were only grief, I could understand it, but I think something is troubling her. More than losing him, I mean.”

Bridget frowned. “What makes you say that?”

Catriona shifted, adjusting her basket before answering in a quiet voice. “She hasn’t spoken much, but the household staff have noticed. And there’s something else… something I hesitate to mention.”

Bridget’s gaze softened, her voice quiet but steady. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.” She didn’t rush Catriona. She simply waited, her hands loosely clasped.

Catriona bit her lip. “Killian saw Lord Alastair on the course that morning. He said his horse was tethered. He got the impression he was waiting for someone. Lord Alastair had been looking forward to the equestrian chase for weeks. He wouldn’t make an appointment in the middle of the race.

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “He stopped to ask if everything was well, but his lordship handed him a package and told him to keep it at the barn. Said he’d retrieve it when he returned.”

Bridget’s breath caught. “Did Killian say what was in the package?”

Catriona shook her head. “No. He didn’t ask. But his lordship was serious when he gave it to him. As if it was important.”

Bridget hesitated, about to thank her, but another thought surfaced. “Do you know what time this was?”

Catriona frowned slightly. “Not exactly. Killian didn’t say.”

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