Chapter Five
September 13th, 1814
Devonshire
Alexander had barely slept the night he’d found his father’s diaries. He hadn’t slept at all the following night. If his father’s doubts had been bad enough, Georgiana’s certainties were a hundred times worse. He’d lain awake, exhausted, wrestling with the truth—I am not Alexander St. Clare—while his heart beat steadily and calmly, as if his whole life hadn’t been ripped to shreds.
He fell asleep the next morning, though, within ten minutes of the carriage departing Eype, and woke not knowing where he was. He jolted to consciousness, alarmed, wondering where in the devil he was—and realized that he was in his traveling chaise, slumped into a corner like a drunk man, the vibration of the wheels juddering along his bones and rattling inside hi
