The River of No Return

unfortunate child ever be born. And if Lord Blackdown dies without an heir, the lands descend to my sister Clare. Believe you me, I know her plans for the estate, and they do not involve the Ofan.” Nick put his hands out, palms up, on either side of Julia’s body. “And so you see I have nothing, Alderman. I am a man of means by no means.”
    The Frenchman stared across the fire at Nick. Julia watched him closely—something was boiling up in him. Was it rage that made his mouth twitch, or was it . . .
    Bertrand’s stern face broke into a ruffian grin, and he put his head back and laughed to shake the rafters. “You are cleverer than you look, Nick Davenant!” He smiled at Julia. “I accept your offer, Julia Percy,” he said. “I will settle for second-best and buy Castle Dar for . . . shall we say fifteen thousand pounds?”
    “I prefer twenty-five,” Julia said.
    “Done.”
    Julia felt herself hugged fiercely by Nick. She turned to smile at him and was kissed on the mouth.
    Bertrand leaned back out of the firelight and shook his head. “‘In love the heavens themselves do guide the state,’” he said, speaking up and into the darkness. “‘Moneybuys lands, and wives are sold by fate.’”
    “For God’s sake, Bertrand,” Leo said. “Do you have to drop ice cubes down the back of every human feeling?”

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
    J ulia sat, her expression bland. Bertrand leaned against the mantel, and Nick stood with his arms folded in front of him. Leo was nowhere to be seen. The Russian—her grandfather, though she couldn’t admit that truth to herself for more than a second at a time—was eyeing her with distaste. “I suppose I am convinced that she is innocent,” he said. “But someone was at Castle Dar that day, Nick. An Ofan.”
    “I assure you, Arkady,” Bertrand said smoothly, “we will continue the investigation. You may return home to Alice and leave it in our hands.”
    Arkady glowered. Julia could feel his frustration, but she didn’t glance up. The past hour had been an ordeal to say the least. Pretending. So this was what it felt like, to really hide the truth, a truth you actually knew. She was breathless and tense, because she understood what she was hiding. She knew the stakes.
    The Russian had questioned and cross-questioned her ruthlessly, and she had given him answers that made her seem like a sheltered young woman, confused by the attention. She had run away from him that day in the London house because she was afraid of ghosts. She didn’t know anything about priests’ holes. Was it a kind of biscuit? The biscuit comment had made the Russian bark with derisive laughter, and for just a second, Julia thought she would get off easily.
    But then the Russian had performed the ultimate test. He had frozen time, and Julia had to freeze with it.
    She had practiced this trick with the Ofan, during the three days’ ride from the medieval barn where they had spent that first night. They had left the carriage in the barn, sold the extra horses, and ridden west, sleeping in the open like brigands. At every stop they would practice. One or another of them would freeze time, and her task was to let herself freeze, too. It was a terrifying thing to do; simply allowing time to end felt like dying. She finally managed it late on the second afternoon, somewhere near Sherborne. She had come back to consciousness to the sight of Leo and Bertrand congratulating each other, while Nick stared at her, as white as a sheet. He caught her up in a hug the minute he saw her blink, and kissed her. Then he set her away from him, straightened his cuffs, and congratulated her on her achievement in a stilted, formal voice.
    The Ofan assured her it was a sign of her great talent, that she could let herself into and out of the river in whatever way she chose. They had her practice again and again, until it felt like second nature.
    So when she felt the Russian slow time to a halt, she let herself go with it, felt her consciousness fade and wink out into nothingness.
    When she blinked back, the Russian was pulling on his gloves. Nick surreptitiously held up three fingers—she had been out for half an hour while they discussed her. But she had passed the test; Count Lebedev believed her to be nothing more than a silly young lady from Devon, where it rains six days out of seven.
    She tamped down the urge to dance around the room and instead sat still, her insipid smile pasted on her face. She had