Emilia did not have very many people in her life that were important to her.

Of course, there was Theo. The two of them were likely closer than most siblings in the ton. Their parents' loving approach to raising them and their subsequent deaths had ensured that.

And then, there was Andrew, the Duke of Weston. The man who had looked after both herself and Theo when their parents had passed. And where Theo could be impulsive and overly protective, Andrew had always been a voice of reason for Emilia.

Once Emilia began her courtship with Will, she had then become close with Leo. Her first impression of him hadn't been the greatest; she thought him crass and a little rude. But Emilia soon learned that beneath his snide exterior, he was reluctantly caring and loyal. She found herself laughing at his remarks, typically at the expense of Will.

Leo had been furious when Will jilted her. They had gone through their own falling out because of it. Leo hadn't been able to understand how his oldest friend could do such a thing. Sometimes Emilia thought that Leo was wounded nearly as much as her at Will's supposed cruelness.

Will. And, of course, there had been Will.

Will. Leo. Andrew. Theo. Those were the people closest to her. And today, she realized they all betrayed her.

They'd all known this secret—this secret, which had been tied so closely to her heart's sadness. And yet, they kept it from her.

Emilia knew why. It was to keep her safe, or so they would say. She knew that they likely thought they were doing the right thing by hiding it from her. And because of that, Emilia knew she should feel bad for yelling at Will about it, especially when he had then wondered aloud whether or not she could ever forgive him.

Emilia wanted to. She wanted to forgive him and move forward with their lives. But right now, she felt so irritated. Her skin crawled with the feeling. The only way Emilia could feel more irritation was if Will informed her that Addie had known about all of this as well.

Unfortunately, Emilia had never really bonded with other ladies her age. She found their attitudes and priggish natures to be boring and stuffy. They cared far too much for rank and yet did not seem to care that Emilia had more than any other debutante in the room.

It was probably why Emilia bonded so well with Addie. If anyone had been born with the right to be snobbish, it was her. And yet, her experiences had humbled her, made her real. And so, Addie was the first female friend Emilia ever really had.

Sitting back in Will's desk chair, Emilia hoped that the princess hadn't betrayed her as well.

At the moment, Emilia's heart was being held together only by the image of Will's face as he had gripped her arm, pleading her not to leave before he stormed off.

It was almost as if he actually wished her to be apart of whatever idea had just struck him. As if she was inside the secret's walls. The ones that for years she hadn't been permitted to enter.

Emilia tried not to think about it or get her hopes up, instead turning her attention to the scattered notes on Will's desk, the contents of which varied from tax notices to personal correspondence. It wasn't merely Lord Trotten's letters that were gathered here, but also Lady Trotten's. Will seemed to collect everything that he could find, regardless of its nature.

Emila skimmed Lady Trotten's writing, finding that her penchant for gossip was nearly as strong as Lady Worthington's.

It would seem that Lady Penelope has found a gentleman that will tolerate her affinity for stuffing pastries in her mouth when she believes no one is looking. Well, perhaps it is not always noticed when she is downing the offending delicacies, but certainly, the sugary powder left upon her decolletage is a clue to her pastimes. My dear Lady Bennett, if she can land herself a dance with an earl, surely you can find a willing aristocrat for your darling niece.

Emilia nearly laughed aloud before wrinkling her nose at the mention of Lady Bennett. She was nearly certain that before Addie was a maid at Kingfield House, she had worked for Lady Bennett. That is, until the countess had fired her and tossed her into the streets. Only to be found by Theo.

Deciding the letter was too personal, Emilia set it down. She shouldn't like to invade Lady Trotten's privacy. There would be nothing of import in a message about Lady Penelope and her love of pastries.

She pulled the top drawer of the desk open, eager to glimpse what Will had been doing with his time the past two years. She noticed him pull the other letter from this drawer, and therefore, she thought it was an excellent place to start.

Unsurprisingly, she was right. It took her only a few moments to find what she was looking for. She had to move around some books, an oval-shaped paperweight, and a collection of writing utensils, but she found it, folded against the wood's grain.

Opening the document, Emilia immediately knew it was the one that detailed the treasonous deal with the French as she glanced over the words. She understood why Ernest had such a hold on Will now. The words that his father had written, detailing his monetary support of Napoleon's army, were damning. Her eyes strained as she skimmed the writing, painfully aware that something was not right about it.

Quickly, she laid the parchment flat on the desktop before doing the same with a few of the other letters Will had collected, picking them at random from the stack. Her eyes jolted back and forth between the notes, and she frowned.

Emilia started at the sound of the door banging open. Will rushed through the doorway, intent on crossing the room to her.

"Will," she said before he could speak.

He saw the letter splayed across the desk and stopped short, asking, "How did you find that?"

Emilia decided to ignore him, thinking that it hadn't been challenging to do so, and his question hardly warranted a reply. Instead, she piqued, "When was the last time you actually looked at this?" She gestured to the writing in front of her.

"I am not sure," Will confessed. He strode closer to her, the heat of his body warming her own. Even though he frustrated her to no end, Emilia couldn't stop her heart from beating faster when he came near. Her body betrayed her every time, responding to his presence without her permission. "It makes me so bloody mad that I try not to," Will added.

"What about the others?"

"The others?" Will threw a questioning glance in her direction.

"Yes, the others. Andrew, Theo, Leo, whoever else you told." She paused and then decided to ask, "Was there anyone else?"

Will shook his head, his curls going askew.

"Adelaide?" Emilia questioned.

He sat on the edge of the desk, straddling the corner. His hard, muscled leg brushed against Emilia's arm, and she couldn't help but stare at the place of contact until one finger curled beneath her chin, forcing her to look up at Will.

When she was giving him her attention, Will moved his hand to cup her face instead.

"The only person I voluntarily told was Theo. Because I knew he was about to call me out for not proposing to you. And I needed him to understand why. I needed him to know that as much as I loved you, I couldn't put you at risk like that."

He sighed and rubbed one thumb across her cheek. Emilia could only imagine what she must look like after their ride today, and she grimaced at the thought. Will mistook her grimace for dislike at his words and hurriedly said, "I should have told you too so that you could understand the same thing. And I am so sorry."

Emilia nodded and leaned into his hand, not trusting herself to speak at that moment. She couldn't help but notice that he still hadn't answered her question.

Luckily, Will added, "When I told Theo, I very specifically told him not to tell Adelaide. She's always known the king was holding something over me, but I never told her what. If she knows more, I blame your brother for that."

He gave her an odd look then, tilting his head and assessing her carefully. Will withdrew his hand from her face. "Now, why do you want to know if they've seen this? I think I showed Leo and Andrew once."

Emilia cleared her voice. "The handwriting on it is peculiar," she said slowly. "I wondered if anyone else had noticed."

"What do you mean?" Will bent his dark, curly head over her, inspecting it.

"Well, first of all," she replied, pointing to the scrawled text at the bottom of the parchment, "your father's signature does not seem to match the ones on the other letters he has written."

Emilia glanced up at Will, his eyebrows furrowing together. When he didn't say anything, she continued. "Honestly, none of it seems to match up quite right with the other examples of your father's writing. In fact, it all looks more like—"

"My mother's," Will cut in, his words barely above a whisper.

****

Emilia's golden head was nodding beneath him as Will snatched a different piece of correspondence that his mother had wrote, slamming it down on the desktop so he could compare. "Her signature matches perfectly."

He suddenly felt a little dizzy, the floor shifting beneath him. Exhaustion was drowning him, and Emilia's observation was making his head pound. Grabbing onto the desk for support, Will forced himself to steady.

"Will," Emilia began, not noticing his unbalance. "When you confronted Lady Trotten about this two years ago, what did she say?"

He pushed off the desk, choosing to lean back against the built-in bookshelf instead as he tried to remember how that conversation with his mother had gone. If he recalled correctly, it had been relatively inconsequential.

"She said she knew nothing about it. She said my father had asked her to sign it, and she had done so, and that was that. Lady Trotten had much to say on leaving London for Scotland, however."

"I am sure she did," Emilia muttered.

Will grimaced, knowing that his mother hadn't been overly kind to Emilia when they were courting. Being that reputations were everything to Lady Trotten, and Emilia's had been less than desirable, his mother disapproved of his choice in a wife.

Society life had always been the most critical part of his mother's life. And so, it had taken a ridiculous amount of convincing for his mother to leave for Scotland after the king threatened her life.

What was life without socialites to share it with?

Will shook his head at the memory of the distraught viscountess' words.

"Your mother wrote this," Emilia said in a flat voice, shrugging. "The whole thing."

"But why? And why would she lie to me about it?"

He couldn't imagine his mother getting involved in anything like this.

"I am unsure," Emilia replied, standing up and walking across the room. Will saw her wince as she moved and knew she must be as sore as he from their travel. Will wished to soothe her pain but knew she didn't want that from him right now. He sighed, stretching his own legs out in front of him.

"Getting those answers will take more time than we have," Will commented, mostly to himself, thinking about how long it would take to send a missive to his mother in Scotland.

There was a brief silence as Emilia paced across the carpeted floor, both of them deep in thought.

But their heads jerked toward the door when a deep male voice cut into the reprieve. "Luckily, I have them."

Lord Trevor was perched in the open doorway, leaning against the wooden frame. "I have those answers."