The prospect of returning to the cellars was less thrilling than using the newly granted pass to search the house for documents. This meant that I ended up in the library, regardless of its proximity to busier quarters and people I would rather not meet unprepared. Luckily, the sturdy door hid me from immediate view, but I still heard footfalls outside whenever someone had reason to cross the corridor.

Much like the office, the library had an air of being very much alive. I'd been in old houses where the rooms could have passed for mausoleums, and while those had a certain charm as well, this was different—imbued with energy. In a way, it helped me to see this place more like a home and less like a museum worth preserving at status quo.

New additions consisted of a table lamp from the 70's, a swivel chair from the 60's and a perfectly modern sound system. I couldn't think of a reason to place a sound system in a library, but perhaps someone was keen on audiobooks.

I walked along the countless shelves, grazing worn spines with my fingertips. Most of the tomes had no titles on display, so it would take a while to find the documents I needed. If they were bound at all, that is.

I'd always loved books, old and new alike. These days, plenty of information was available at the swipe of a finger, but there was something comforting about seeking for clues that had been printed on real paper. I owned a stack of books filled with different maker's marks, sigils and hallmarks, preserved through the ages for us to remember individual contributions to our common history. Mom had given me the first one when I'd turned twelve, and since then, my interest had only grown.

I picked a thin leather bound work from the shelf, careful not to do unnecessary harm. Motes of old dust rose from the pages, and I inhaled the familiar scent with satisfaction. This was how a book should smell. Old, papery and full of memories.

Smiling at the title, I closed the cover and put it back. Saucy romances had their allure, regardless of age, but I doubted the content would help me find what I was looking for.

It took me an hour to find the first book that contained something of value. The text was barely legible, faded in parts and swirly to a fault, but it held promise. Once seated at the late 19th century desk, I turned on the table lamp and began to interpret the scribbles.

19th of January, the year of 1742

Marchionesse Demalier's acute need to redecorate the second floor is proving more important than the need for new gowns. Our daughters will surely complain, but I shall happily steer them in my dear wife's direction.

It was easy enough to sense both his frustration and the love for his wife.

I read the first sentence again. Marchionesse. So, a title then. Ash was a Marquesse. If I remembered correctly, that ranked below a Duke and above an Earl. Only, Ash didn't seem to value titles to any extent. I smiled to myself and continued to read.

It is now ten days since Walpole left his office. I shall be sorry to see him go. Although the blood of royalists runs thick in our veins, we have thrived under Walpole. Perchance the lady and our daughters shall have their new gowns as well.

Walpole. An ancestor to Ash had written on these pages mere days after one of our greatest politicians had resigned, even hinting at his personal views of the man. This was wonderful. My heartbeat thrummed beneath my ribs.

I snatched up the book, left the library and almost slipped on the stairs in haste to reach Ash's office.

The door was still ajar.

"I found something."

Ash blinked while I rushed forward. "By all means, tell me." He waved for the chair.

"A diary." Winded, I placed the book on his desk and opened the pages, turning it toward him as soon as I'd find the right passage. "Your ancestor. He's writing about Walpole."

"About who?"

"Robert Walpole, the first ever Prime Minster of Great Britain. The man held that office for 20 years. It's extraordinary. Your family, they were there. They lived through this." I couldn't begin to explain how I felt about that. "And he writes that your family thrived enough to allow expenses."

Ash raised his hand as if to halt me. "Whoa, one more time, and slower."

I forced down a long breath. Perhaps I had been slightly too excited. "It's extraordinary. Your family is old. You have a diary from a relative in your library dated to the 18th century."

"I'm still not sure I understand."

"This is the first thing I found. The first page. Look at how many pages there are. Just think of the wealth of history you have at your fingertips."

Ash hunched over the writing, elbows firmly on the desk. "This is mostly about renovations and dresses. I can't see how this holds much interest."

My fingers twitched, tense against the mahogany. How could he not see?

He closed the book and pushed it in my direction. "But you're right. You have plenty of pages here to explore."

I carefully edged the book closer until I cradled it in my arms. "Yes. I won't take up your time."

I should have known better.

* * * *

Three hours later, I'd found two more diaries, but no ledger of household expenses or a list of inventory. I should have continued the search, but I needed a change of scenery. Ash's dismissive comments had put a lid on everything.

I was about to leave when a shadow darkened the doorway. A quick glance revealed none other than Randy.

"Mads told me to tell you that we're off to the pub again tonight. No one wants to make dinner."

"I'm not very hungry. I can make something for myself if you're going." I felt a bit too frayed to chance another visit to the pub.

"If you say so." Randy left with a wave.

I heard a few more murmurs outside, then footsteps. I was still staring in the direction of the doorway when Ash appeared. "Randy said you're not joining us." I couldn't interpret his tone at all.

"I thought I could make my own dinner tonight. I'm feeling a bit tired."

"You won't feel tired after the first beer. Come on, we need to get to know you better. It will be fun." Ash smiled.

My co workers had complained much in the same way when I'd started my internship at Sotheby's. Then, it had been Lindsey who forced me out of my shell, and I'd thanked her for it later. We'd had wonderful discussions over beer on subjects ranging from art to rambunctious tales about deceased celebrities.

"Then yes."

Ash was still smiling. "No need to be shy. You certainly wasn't shy earlier when you ran into my office. Come on, let's get the others."

I trailed after him, leaving the relative safety of the library behind. What was it Madeleine had said? That I chose to see Ash in a certain way? Perhaps she was right. I hadn't given him many chances because I never thought he would pay much interest. He was someone important, whereas I was a hired hand to assist in matters he simply wanted done.

"So, what else did you find today?" he asked.

The question took me by surprise as we walked down the corridor toward the kitchen. "Two older diaries, although I believe them to be written by the same person."

"So, what would he be? My great-great-great-great-great grandfather? Did he have something more of interest to say?" There was humour in his voice.

I wasn't sure how to react. This version of Ash was unfamiliar. "I didn't spend much time reading. I know you want this inventory done as soon as possible, and as you said, there might not be much of value in those diaries. At least not until I know what I'm looking for."

Ash was about to say something when Madeleine stepped through a doorway farther down the corridor. "There you are. Randy is waiting so we better go. I don't think we want to show Raven an impatient Randy just yet." She strode toward us with a smile. "What have you been up to all afternoon" she said when she drew closer.

"Mostly reading." Tension rolled off my shoulders. Madeleine's friendly smile managed to convince me that I'd done the right thing to accept the invitation.

"And you, Ash?" she asked, hooking her arm with mine as though we were close friends already.

"I've drawn up plans for the divestment of lands. Although, I have no idea what I'm doing, so I'll be calling the lawyers soon."

"Oh, the dreaded lawyers. What was it last time? They wanted you to settle a dispute that has lasted a generation or two?"

"Don't remind me. I've seen enough lawyers for a lifetime."

"Or was it the scandal in the press?" Madeleine was relentless in her teasing, and I almost wanted to laugh when Ash groaned loudly. She made him more approachable.

"No talk of press or lawyers tonight."

Madeleine immediately turned her attention on me. "So, it was the scandal of the year. Ash managed to--"

"Oh, shut it, Mads. He doesn't need to know that."

She laughed loudly. "Oh come on. It's public knowledge. Besides, the more times we joke about it, the less it will sting."

"Easy for you to say." Ash pushed open the door that led us outside.

The evening air was cool, shimmering with the last rays of sunlight. Contrasts were fading around us and shadows stretched across the ground in long lines. I couldn't decide if this was my favourite time of the day, or if I preferred the dawn.

Randy started the car and flicked the headlights to get our attention.

"Told you. He's impatient already," Madeleine said.

* * * *

Laughter and raised voices, clinking glasses and far too many people—the pub was as crowded as it had been the day before. I squeezed into a corner, thumbing the condensation from my glass. Randy dominated the conversation with wild gestures and colourful descriptions of his last weekend visit to London.

"Ash, do you remember that pipsqueak of a guy who fell off the bar. Swiping the bottle of fine brandy to the floor and everything. I'm amazed you got him out of there in one piece. Damn, it was a riot. The bartender had an absolute fit. What was his name? Peter, Paul? I can't remember. Why were we even there?"

Ash chuckled until his shoulder shook. "You must have been drunk if you can't remember."

"Nah, not that drunk. He was tiny though, much like our guy here. Hey, Raven, how tall are you?"

I'd never been overly proud about my height, but I'd never been called tiny.

"No need to be rude, Randy," Ash said, his tone bland and firm all at once. My pulse picked up. I'd never thought Ash would defend me. Why?

"Oh, come one. Raven is like one of those perfect little twinks. Isn't that what they're called?"

It was one thing to call me tiny, quite another to assume such things. Anger rose in waves, spitting and hissing beneath the surface. I didn't say a word, aware that my voice would have betrayed just how much his words rattled. I glanced across the crowd, hoping to see Madeleine returning with more drinks, but I was sorely disappointed. She lounged at the bar, chatting with a fellow I recalled having seen the night before. Not close enough for a rescue.

Ash suddenly placed his arm on the seat behind my back, not quite touching, but my skin felt electrified beneath my thin shirt. "Are you trying to sound like you know shit?" he said, hiding the sharp edges behind a smile. "Sass never suited you. Leave that for the queers."

"Aren't you two chummy." Randy was eyeing us both as though we were a pair or a unit that needed to be evaluated as one. I didn't like it. He leaned forward on his elbows. "Wasn't it you, Ash, who said that you can't put two gay guys in a room and expect them to like each other? Guess you were lying."

Ash exploded. I had no better word for it. "What the hell is wrong with you, Randy? You met Raven yesterday but you've already made a mess of things. He's not said a bad word to you, but you've been a total ass. What right do you have to assume he's gay to begin with."

Randy gave as much as he got. "Oh, fuck you. I'm only saving you from yourself. We all know that he's just your type, only ten years younger, and he's prancing in like he owns the place. Do you remember what happened last time?"

"I remember. Now, shut the fuck up and behave."

I couldn't stay, but I couldn't move.

Ash glanced in my direction, holding firm when our gazes met. I almost gasped as he placed his fingers against my shoulder. Squeezing gently. "Don't listen to him."

"I need to fetch another beer." I had to get away, if only for a minute. I was thoroughly confused, and not in a good way.

A/N No wonder our dear Raven is confused...