At once, she lifted the contents out of the box. It was a leather ledger of some sort, one that tied at the top with a ribbon of sorts. It was thick, the strap almost snapping with the volume. As she opened the ledger, her gaze fell on a letter addressed to her at the very front.
Her hands trembled slightly whilst unfolding the letter, and once again she beheld her father’s tidy script:
My dearest daughter, should you hold this letter in your hand, it signifies that you have unraveled the riddle. I had no doubt you would accomplish it. You have always been clever. It also means you have now unearthed my greatest secret and the source of all my troubles. In your grasp, you possess what the ton has come to refer to as Pembroke’s Book of Confidences. It contains information about many of the most illustrious families of our time—and their secrets.
I have long collected such information, not to gain favor but to be able to protect myself against others who may seek to harm me and mine—as has happened in the past.
I wish for you to know that I have never resorted to blackmail. I utilized the contents of this book solely for noble purposes. For the good of my family and friends. For the good of the realm.
What you choose to do with the contents lies in your hands—or rather, in the hands of your husband. I fear this book may serve as an insurance policy for you and your spouse as much as it could become a curse, for many shall surely covet the knowledge within. With that in mind, it might be prudent to incinerate it. On the other hand, one can never predict when this knowledge may prove essential…
She paused, utterly intrigued by her father’s words. What dreadful secrets awaited her? She almost did not wish to know.
Setting the letter aside without finishing it, she opened the ledger’s first page. Inside it, she found letters, receipts, and accounts of various events, all neatly chronicled by date.
As she examined the entries, she observed that this was a record of a myriad of scandals that had rocked their society over the previous three decades.
The more she delved into the tales within the book, the more astonishing they became. From mundane thievery or affairs to egregious matters such as attempted murder, blackmail, and corruption.
These were not mere tales; evidence accompanied most. How had she never heard of this book? Or was this book the reason she had been kept away from London so much? There had been rumors about her father and his influence over the years, and now she thought about it, the Book of Confidences sounded familiar, but it wasn’t something she’d ever truly thought about. The idea that her father should have such a document was ridiculous at best, or at least so she’d thought.
A thought struck her then: Was the Markham family mentioned in this book? Swiftly, she flicked to the index—her father had organized the book with meticulous alphabetical precision.
And indeed—there it was. The reason for Lord Markham’s relentless pursuit of her. As she read the entry, she found that the Markham family had engaged in bribery, blackmail, and smuggling for many years. The late Lord Markham, whose passing had occurred not long ago, had blackmailed a fellow Lord to change his vote during an important vote in the House of Lords more than once.
Moreover, the deceased Lord Markham had rewarded an informant handsomely for information on yet another lord, who had subsequently sold a pristine piece of property to Markham for a lower-than-average value. A record from the Markhams’ ledger had found its way into her father’s possession, alongside a letter mentioning both “Markham” and an informant regarding certain exchanged funds for silence.
These actions were all criminal. The days when nobles had acted without fear of accountability were gone. She sat back in disbelief.
In a flash, it became clear why Markham had pressured her towards marriage. His aim was to seize this information—and to obliterate it.
She sifted through the pages further, shaking her head at the sheer volume of information her father had amassed. He’d sworn he’d never used this information for ill, but had he been true to his word? It seemed unlikely he hadn’t been tempted. And he was awfully rich for an earl…
She pondered; had her father ever contemplated that compiling this book might have been an error? Perhaps that was why he had suggested she could discard or incinerate it? Shaking off her musings, she continued to leaf through the pages. Until she spotted something that made her blood freeze.
Under the letter L, was the name Leith.
Her hands trembled immediately. Eammon’s family was entwined within this book. What secrets might be contained in these pages? And would it bring light to the many questions she’d had for so long?
The answers were at her fingertips—did she want them?
What if this did not pertain to Eammon but his father? What if she learned something about the late duke she did not wish to know?
Persevering, she drew the paper before her and began to read. She’d wanted answers. And here they were. She could not turn them away, she could not ignore them. Her father had left her this book for a reason. As she read, her heart thundered.
“No, no, no, this cannot be true…this cannot be true.”
Yet the evidence lay before her. If this was indeed accurate, then Eammon was not a duke at all.
He was not Eammon Hayward. Not legally. Legally, his name was Eammon Keane and his father was not Alexander Hayward but a man by the name of John Keane.
And his mother? She was not Catriona Smith, if such a woman even existed, but rather one Maebh Keane. John’s wife.
He isn’t a duke. He isn’t even English. He is the child of Irish paupers.
Her world spun. This could not be. He’d lied about everything. Everything…She gulped and looked at the pages before her once more.
And the more she read, the worse the story became. Eammon was a mere ward, taken in by Alexander Hayward. Her father had helped facilitate a fraud upon the entire nation by hiding Eammon’s background so he could be a duke.
