Sweet Enemy Read Online Free PDF Page B

collection. She counted the number of shelves around her and swiftly extrapolated.
My God.
She could spend her entire two weeks in here and barely scratch the surface. How would she ever find her father’s letters in this enormous manse—much less other evidence to link Charles Claremont to the Wentworths?
     
    Impatience flared, sparked by the burning need to understand why her father had been struck down. She’d always had it—this compulsion to break things down to their elements. To discover the
why
and the
how
. It was what drove her to continue to pursue science, even though she’d been harshly discouraged by her aunt and rejected by the male establishment. And in a sense, it was what drove her now. She
would
discover the truth.
     
    Liliana picked up her candle and started across the room, dodging shadowy sofas, settees, tables and ottomans. The most logical place to look first would be Stratford’s desk. Lighting her way with her taper, she found only a rosewood writing desk, with nothing inside but writing implements. Unlike Claremont Cottage, Somerton Park must have a separate study.
     
    Two locked doors cleverly tucked between bookshelves seemed the most promising locations, but she saw no locking mechanisms she might manipulate. She ran her fingers over their seams and tugged on the wall sconces that flanked them, hoping to find a trick lock. She gave up after a time. There had to be another entrance to Stratford’s study elsewhere.
     
    She chafed at the probability of leaving empty-handed and returned her gaze to the library. Could Somerton Park’s shelves house a secret compartment as her father’s did?
     
    She rushed to the first set of shelves, using her taper to light a wall sconce. As leather-bound volumes came into sharper view, she abstained from reading the multicolored spines and instead methodically checked each shelf as high as she could reach. She ran her hands behind the books, feeling for anything unusual—a raised section, a changed texture. Finding nothing, she hurried to the fireplace, where a rolling ladder rested. She braced it in front of a bookcase and climbed, her stocking feet smarting at the hardness of the rounded rungs.
     
    By the time she’d reached the third case, the muscles in her thighs and calves trembled slightly and her left arm ached from anchoring herself to the ladder. By the fourth case, small beads of sweat broke out on her brow from her exertions. If she were wise, she’d give in for the night and start fresh tomorrow.
     
    Then something caught her eye. Excitement charged her blood with a crackling energy. In the very top right corner of the highest shelf, a black leather volume stood out like a crow amongst colorful songbirds. Theunmarked binding gave no hint of its contents. Of course, it could be nothing. But it resembled a journal or a ledger book, either of which would surely have a sample of handwriting she could compare to the killer’s letter.
     
    A tingle danced up Liliana’s spine. She gripped the ladder and scrambled to the top.
     
    The black volume loomed just out of reach. Liliana stretched out her arm in an effort to grasp it. She strained, fingers trembling for a long moment. She gripped a bookshelf with both hands and tried to inch the ladder farther by shimmying her hips in a rather undignified manner, but it wouldn’t budge.
     
    Liliana clenched her teeth and looked longingly at the book. She had to know what was in it. Aunt Eliza always said her unladylike curiosity would be her downfall, and perhaps tonight that would prove to be true. Regardless, finding something of interest in that black book was Liliana’s only hope to salvage this entire day.
     
    Blowing a wayward curl from her face, she straightened. She raised her left foot and stepped up another awkward rung. She eased her other foot from the ladder, extending her stance wide to rest her toes on a lower shelf. Liliana’s heart galloped, spurred by her precarious position.