Sam couldn't quite believe his luck in getting invited to dinner at the Edwards household. It removed his need to find an excuse to visit the house. Now, he only needed to find a chance to look around to see if he could find any clues about the money sent from the Earl of Highwood. Ivy had mentioned that her father had a private study, so that seemed like the best option. Perhaps Mr Edwards still held some of his records from his time as a solicitor in London.

However, sneaking away might not be so easy. His invitation was, perhaps, a little less about luck and a little more about the number of unmarried daughters in the family. Mr Newton had taken care to warn him that Tilbury had only a small number of eligible bachelors to a much larger number of unmarried young ladies. And so he should expect to receive a fair amount of attention at any function he attended during his stay.

As he stood in a large reception room of Orchard Cottage, he had to admit that he hadn't expected quite the amount of attention, nor the sheer quantity of single women present. Ivy had three sisters. All dark beauties like their mother while Ivy took after her father. Then there was Miss Olivia Newton whose family had brought him along, though she—thankfully—appeared to have no interest in him beyond polite interest.

There were three red-haired girls with different constellations of freckles scattered across their faces whose father, Mr Tipp, worked as a solicitor in the village. A fox-faced girl with reddish-brown hair, the daughter of the local vicar, Mr Chalmers, kept making eyes at him while he pretended not to notice.

Was there something in the waters of Tilbury that made families unable to sire males? Other than Lord Ravenscroft—whom he had yet to meet—and the Edwards' one son, there appeared to be no other men of a reasonable age to marry. Except for, apparently, a few sons of local farmers. But most of these families would consider those beneath them and never consider them as prospective matches.

Dinner had been pleasant but somewhat awkward as he fielded rapid questions from both marriage-minded mothers and daughters. They had initially seemed a little uncertain about his suitability when he mentioned having worked as a butler, but when he told them he was looking to use his saved money from the army and his sold commission to lease a small estate, their ears had perked back up again. Maybe he would have done better not to share that detail. He would have had less attention to avoid now.

They were all split between a reception room and the drawing room for after-dinner entertainment. A few of the young ladies played charades while some others simply mingled for a good chat. In the drawing room tables had been set up for card games. A few of the older men had yet to return from having their post-dinner drink and smoke.

Because of the large number of guests, he had not shared more than a few words with Ivy all evening, and it surprised him to find that he had been looking forward to it and now felt somewhat bereft of the opportunity. He hadn't seen her since the dinner ended, and he wondered if she had retired for the night. An unusual move while having visitors, but he could understand if she wanted a respite from the chattering of so many guests.

Deciding that he would never have a better chance than tonight, he excused himself and left the room, pretending to go for some fresh air in the garden. He hadn't made it further than the hallway when someone pushed him around a corner and up against a wall. His eyes widened as he met the brown eyes of the fox-faced girl. Miss Charlotte Chalmers, the vicar's daughter.

She lifted her hand to play with his white cravat, her gaze coy beneath long eyelashes. "I'm so glad you quit the room," she purred. "I so wanted to get better acquainted with you."

Why was it always the vicars' daughters that were the most aggressive at pursuing men? He groaned inwardly as he gently but firmly moved her hand off his person.

"I'm very sorry," he said, trying very hard to remain polite. "But I did not mean to encourage you in any way."

A line appeared between her brows. "Oh. I thought perhaps you were here to find something. Someone."

'Something' would be correct. He shook his head. "Afraid not. I'm exploring parts of England to see where I might like to settle, not looking to court."

It was only partially a lie. He did have plans to find a small estate and settle down eventually, but not yet. He enjoyed his job at the Rose Agency far too much. But he couldn't risk her believing he was there to find a wife. If anyone needed a wife, though, Tilbury certainly appeared to have an abundance of single young women.

Her lips puckered in a sultry pout. "Would you not wish for companionship once you find where you want to settle?"

Ivy's smiling face flashed before his eyes, and he immediately pushed the image away. How had she wormed herself into his subconscious so quickly? She hadn't just fallen into his lap and spooked his horse. She had somehow made herself a comfortable little nook inside his brain, and ever since he met her a few days ago, he could not stop thinking about her.

The rustling of a dress reminded him he was not alone. Miss Chalmers had taken a step closer, their bodies now almost touching.

"Once that time comes," he said as he sidled away. "I may consider it. For now, I fear I have little time or inclination for courtship."

It was time to make his escape before anyone found him alone with this young lady. Now was not the time for scandals. Moving away further, out of the young woman's reach, he sketched a quick bow.

"A good night to you, Miss Chalmers."

Before she could say anything, he continued down the hallway, hoping she would not follow. To his relief, he heard her walk in the other direction. Which was exactly what he needed so that he could try to find where Mr Edwards might conduct his business at home. If he worked from home a fair bit, which was his impression from a few things Ivy had said, there might be a room dedicated solely to this.

After quickly looking through the rooms downstairs and finding nothing, he found himself standing at the foot of the stairs leading to the first floor. It was risky to enter the family's private domain. He cast a glance back towards the hallway leading to the drawing room and reception room. Everyone still appeared to be busy, and who knew when another opportunity like this might arise?

He hurried up the stairs while praying no servants were doing chores right now. Hopefully, they were all preoccupied with the guests downstairs. The first door on his right led to what must be the family's private parlour. It sat empty, the only light the faint glow from the full moon outside. The other doors were all closed. Praying he wasn't about to find a bedroom, he pushed open the door opposite the parlour.

With the moon on the opposite side of the house, the room was completely dark, but he could just about make out the shape of a desk on the far end. This must be it. Slipping inside, he closed the door behind him and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark.

A few moments later, he could make his way across the room to search the desk for some matchsticks. Once he found some, he lit a candle in a brass candleholder. It wasn't a lot of light. He would have preferred to do this in daylight. But gaining access to this room during the day would be nigh impossible.

Lifting the candle higher, he looked around the room. It was definitely an actively used study; the desk was cluttered with stacks of paper, ink pots, quills, and other bits. Tall bookcases lined the walls, filled with a mixture of law volumes and stacks of paper. Some of them appeared to contain regular books, so the room might serve as a small library as well.

He wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for. But any proof that Mr Edwards was involved would be a good start. The papers on the bookshelves seemed to be mostly correspondence from the man's time as a solicitor, each a bundle for one client and neatly tied off with a string. There was not enough time to look through all the letters, but he had a quick rifle through them to see if anything stood out. But they all seemed perfectly ordinary, all dealing with mundane, everyday things. No threats of blackmail. No mentions of the Earl of Highwood. No random amounts of money.

Despite the cluttered desk, Mr Edwards appeared to be keeping his records in good order, which made everything a lot easier for Sam. He looked around the room. If there was something going on that was not entirely legal or moral, where might one hide such correspondence or evidence?

Walking back around the desk, he opened the drawers one by one. Everything in these drawers appeared to be a little neater. A little better kept. The addresses of most of these clients seemed to be in London, so Mr Edwards must have kept in touch with a few of them. Still nothing about Highwood.

The top drawer on either side, as well as one in the middle, were all locked. After putting the candle holder down on the desk, he fished out his lock-picking tools from a hidden inside pocket in his suit jacket. He made quick work of the first drawer. Inside were a few of Mr Edwards's personal belongings. Private items that most likely held sentimental value rather than monetary: an old watch, a small stack of letters, which upon further investigation turned out to be love letters from his wife before they married, and a couple of rings.

The middle drawer was a little more difficult to open. The lock was slow to react to his tinkering, but after a little while, it finally rewarded his efforts with the telltale 'click' indicating the turning of the mechanism. To his disappointment, the drawer appeared to be empty. Had it never been used because of its failing lock, or had someone recently emptied it?

He was just about to close it again when a tiny sliver of white caught his attention. Right at the corner of the drawer was the edge of a paper. It looked as if it might poke out from underneath a hidden compartment. Excitement spurred his hands on. What was Mr Edwards hiding?

A noise in the hallway outside froze his movements. The door handle turned. With a silent curse, he quickly closed the drawer again, took a step away from the desk, and grabbed the candle holder.

Barely a moment later, Ivy came inside. She stopped short just inside the door as she caught sight of him. Her eyes widened. Shit! As relieved as he was that it was her and not her father, he had to come up with a good excuse for his presence, and he had to do it soon.

"Mr Hemsworth!" She looked between him and the desk, her brow knotting in confusion. "What... What are you doing in my father's study?"

Excellent question. What was he doing in her father's study?

~~~~~~