“Very well, but we must move swiftly,” she conceded.
“Swifter than the pigs at feeding time, Tils,” Max promised, flashing a subtle wink at Anna who immediately looked more at ease.
* * *
Matilda passed through the gates of Montale House as the bronzed sun began its descent toward the horizon with Max riding at her side. He had not said much throughout the journey, and she was glad of that. She could not have any distractions, including civil conversation, when she had the prospect of an entire library to ransack.
Up ahead, music drifted from the manor she loved so much, accompanied by shrill laughter and the clink of glasses.
Her mood darkened as she saw a group of gentlemen in the orchard, picking the ripe fruits and hurling them at one another, or stomping on them, exploding the apples and pears that could have fed countless villagers. They were clearly inebriated, laughing raucously as they pelted each other.
“I am sorry,” Max said. He did not need to explain what for; it was likely obvious on Matilda’s face.
She ignored the scene and pressed on toward the house, the docile silver mare doing exactly as she asked as if the creature knew the urgency of her task.
Hitching the mare to a potted plant, Matilda marched inside her father’s home—her home—and tried not to grimace at the disheveled sight of the entrance hall, or the vase that had been knocked over and left in pieces, as she strode on toward the library. With any luck, she would be in and out before James even knew she had been there.
“Max, stand guard at this door,” she instructed.
Anna’s brother hurried to keep up, and as she stepped into the library, he took up his position, allowing her to breathe easier as she began her search for her father’s old book of poisons and their counterparts.
She had just located it in a dusty corner, blowing the cobwebs away from the leatherbound cover, and was about to take it to the reading table in the center of the room when a ruckus erupted outside the door.
“You have no invitation!” James yelled. “Iwillknow who is in my library, or I shall scream ‘thief’ and the constables will be sent for!”
Max laughed. “As tempting as it would be to hear you scream like a little girl, I will not stand aside.”
“I have pistols!”
“So do I.”
“Move aside!” James bellowed.
There was a thud against the door, increasing Matilda’s urgency as she ran to the reading table with the book. All she needed to do was find the ‘L’ section, look up ‘larkspur,’ and pray that there was something listed beside it as an antidote.
“Did you just… slap me?” Max said. “Are you a child?”
“You are in my house! Stand aside!” James roared back, sounding very childish indeed.
There was another thud, but this time, a figure fell into the library. Evidently, Maxhadstepped aside at the exact moment that James had charged. James sprawled face first across the parquet, hissing and groaning as he rolled around, a champagne flute smashed into glittering shards, the stem still gripped in his hand.
Concentrate!Matilda flipped the pages as swiftly as she could, rattling through the Js and Ks, getting closer and closer to the ‘L’ section.
“So,youare the thief?” James spat, pushing himself up.
Max appeared behind him, grabbing him roughly by the arm. “And this house is as much hers as it is yours, so I suggest you leave her in peace.”
“This house has nothing to do with her!” James tried to wrench free of Max’s grip, but Max was bigger and stronger.
Matilda looked up from the enormous tome… and as soon as she set eyes on her wretched cousin, drunk and petulant, the wave of emotion that she had been holding behind a dam of necessity burst forth in a single surge of pure, unadulterated fury.
“Let go of him,” she said coolly. “It is high time that my cousin and I had a little discussion.”
Max raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Matilda put on a saccharine smile. “Let him go. Tend to the horses. I will meet you outside when I am done.”
James wrenched his arm again though Max had already released him. The former’s smug look of satisfaction, clearly believing that he had freed himself, poured fuel on the fire of Matilda’s rage.
