The Heiress he never met
Sebastian found her in the library at eleven that night, three days after she'd moved into the house, sitting on the floor with her back against a shelf of leather-bound volumes nobody in his family had read in two generations, a single lamp pulled close enough to throw the rest of the room into shadow. She had a book open across her knees that wasn't, he noted, one of the decorative sets meant for display — she'd found, with what he was beginning to suspect was an unerring instinct for the genuinely valuable, one of the actual first editions his great-aunt kept locked behind glass during the day and apparently not locked carefully enough at night.