“I know he’s a thoughtless idiot. But he’s a good journalist. He’s broken some huge stories over the years, and he’s nothing if not thorough.”

Though she suspected the subjects of his stories might replace the word thorough with single-minded arsehole. Guy was forever bandying about phrases lifted from writers like George Orwell: “Journalism is printing what someone else does not want printed: everything else is public relations.” Isaac’s was exactly the kind of story that would appeal to Guy’s “avenger of truths” sensibilities. Nory was not blind to the paradox between his professional ideals and the way he conducted himself personally. Guy was, in every way, a better man on paper than in reality.

“I don’t want my family’s name dragged through the gutter press.”

“Guy doesn’t do gutter press!” Dear god, I’m defending Guy! “I mean, he’s done some controversial exposés in his time, but they generally had it coming. Heba was the victim of exploitation. And Guy is bloody-minded enough and has enough of his own personal privilege not to be frightened by the De-Veers’ legal team.”

Isaac gave a long sigh as he looked out of the window at the starless night. “Look, I know you mean well. And thank you for caring and being outraged on Heba’s behalf. But my family decided a long time ago that the most respectful thing would be to guard her secret and cherish her work privately.”

“But people should know! Heba should be posthumously credited for her work. Your family should own the rights to it.”

“It’s too risky. This is all we have, Nory. These sketchbooks are more than money; they are my great-great-grandmother’s honor. She already lost her art to the De-Veers. I will not have her name dragged through the mud in the papers when the De-Veers fight back—which they will. And what if it doesn’t go in our favor? Heba signed away her rights to her work . . .”

“Yes, but under false pretenses. That’s a crime!”

“And how will your friend Guy prove it? Heba’s not here to defend herself. I can’t take the risk of losing her art or having her sketchbooks impounded as evidence or something. All the while the De-Veers don’t know about them, they’re safe. If I go to the press, they won’t be anymore. I am not about to hand over the rest of Heba’s legacy because a hundred and fifty years ago a corrupt countess lawfully cheated my relative. The De-Veers have everything to gain by me going public, and I have everything to lose.”

“Not if you win!”

“I don’t want to fight with you, Nory. But if you’re looking for a crusade, I’m not it.”

“Then why did you show me?”