a crack to let the breeze in. She and Lydia studied the fern for a few moments.
“I suspect we need to do more research,” Lydia said. “I’m going to the library tomorrow, so I’ll see if they have any books about fern cultivation. Now shall we continue our work on long division?”
Lydia began spreading a workbook and papers out on the table that dominated the tiny room first set aside for use as Jane’s nursery and then as the schoolroom.
While Lydia was distracted, Jane picked up a book and tucked the letter between the pages, then pushed the book onto a shelf between two encyclopedias.
She was struck with the sudden urge to tell Lydia about the other letters that lay folded and hidden on the bookshelf, but the purposeful way her sister was moving about the room made her lose courage.
Besides, she didn’t want to disobey the sender’s instructions about secrecy—these anonymous letters and the accompanying riddles had been a welcome distraction after Papa’s death, and she didn’t want them to end.
She went to join Lydia at the table. “Is everything all right?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“You seem a bit upset.”
“I’m not upset. Now come and sit. We’ll review dividends and divisors.”
Jane sat and picked up a pencil. “Is it Grandmama?”
“Jane, honestly, nothing is the matter.”
But Jane saw the irritation rise in Lydia’s eyes. She didn’t know what Lydia wished their grandmother would or wouldn’t do, but she wished everyone would stop being so stern and start to enjoy things a bit more.
Every day it was the same—breakfast, lessons, lunch, an outing, tea. And it wasn’t as if the outings were anywhere terribly interesting, only to the park or library or shops.
“Jane.”
Jane glanced up. “Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Do you remember what a remainder is?”
“A number left over.”
“Good. This problem will have a remainder, but start with the whole number, then multiply it by the divisor. See, what’s so interesting about long division is that you’re able to do division, multiplication, and subtraction all in the same equation.”
“Lyddie?”
“Hmm?”
“Is it wrong to keep a secret?”
Lydia looked almost startled. “A secret? What kind of secret?”
“Oh, nothing that would hurt anybody. Just… you know. A secret. Something no one else knows. Like that you’ve got a bag of bull’s-eyes tucked beneath your bed.”
“Well, I… I suppose it depends on what the secret is. But if it doesn’t hurt anybody to keep it, then no. I don’t think it’s wrong.” Lydia reached out and pushed a lock of hair from Jane’s forehead. “Do you have sweets stored away somewhere?”
“No.” Jane gave her sister a winning smile. “If I did, I’d share them with you.”
“Lovely.” Lydia gave Jane’s cheek a gentle pinch. “But you’d still have to figure out how to share them equally. And for that, you need to learn how to divide.”
Jane made a face of mock irritation before turning her concentration to the problem. Although she liked mathematics, the way her sister sometimes talked, one would think the world revolved around numbers.
Jane supposed in some ways it probably did, though she had the sense the world was driven by something far more mysterious than sums.
Something like riddles, conundrums, puzzles.
Secrets.
Chapter Three
The locket swung back and forth, sunlight captured in the silver casing. Alexander lifted the chain to study the engraving. Edging his thumbnail into the seam, he opened the little compartment.
The miniature image of a woman with sparrow-brown hair stared back at him, the hint of laughter that curved her lips mitigating the imperiousness of her pose. The other side of the locket’s casing bore a picture of a man, his features narrow and strong, a neat beard covering his jaw and a serious expression in his eyes.
Alexander had a sudden image of Lydia Kellaway wearing this locket around her neck, enclosing it in her hand every so often as she thought of her beloved parents.
Not an emotion he would ever have extended to his own parents—his iron-fisted father, his cold-as-glass mother, who’d shocked them all with her shameful affair.
Sometimes Alexander still couldn’t believe it. The Countess of Rushton, imperious to a fault with her dulcet tones and porcelain skin, debasing herself with a common soldier.
At least she’d had the sense to run off, Alexander thought. Otherwise he’d have thrown her out himself after the affair came to light.
A grunt made him look up. His twenty-nine-year-old brother Sebastian slumped into a chair, his eyes heavy lidded and his jaw unshaven. He dragged a hand through his messy hair and yawned.