Eliza sank into the embrace of her cosy desk chair, fingertips hovering above the blank page, her cat, Matilda, draped across the keyboard with regal indifference.

Outside, autumn leaves pirouetted in the lamplight, but inside, only the soft glow of her desk lamp and the gentle purring at her wrist stirred her from writer’s block.

She glanced down and whispered, “Matilda, you’re not helping.” The tortoiseshell blinked up, as though daring her to move her.

With a sigh, Eliza let her chin rest on her palm, closing her eyes.

At that moment, her heroine—Cressida—came sharply into focus. Cressida had just overheard Marcus and ‘Lillian’ plotting to murder her for the fortune she didn’t yet know was hers. Adrenaline surged through Eliza: it was time for Cressida to act.

Fingers finally finding courage, Eliza typed: Cressida fled into the moonlit courtyard, cloak pulled tight around trembling shoulders. Heart hammering, she sought refuge beneath the old wrought-iron arch where Rowan waited, his lantern casting a halo over his gentle features. He had been her childhood friend—the one person she could trust.

Rowan held out his hand without a word. Cressida slipped hers into his, warmth blossoming between them. As they ducked into the shadows, his thumb brushed her knuckles and she felt an electric thrill. The world narrowed to his steady gaze and the rain tapping a lullaby on cobblestones. He must have sensed her fear: “I’m here,” he murmured.

She let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Their eyes met, sorrow and relief entwining. With a soft laugh, Rowan pulled her closer. Cressida’s heart cracked open, and she leaned in, pressing her lips to his in a promise of trust. In that kiss, betrayal and inheritance and ruined lies melted away.

Eliza paused, hand lifted from the keys and bent to scratch Matilda behind the ears. The cat stretched luxuriously and hopped down, satisfied as if to say, “That’s enough for tonight.” Eliza smiled, finally free of her block, knowing that tomorrow, whispered secrets and stolen kisses would guide her back to Cressida’s story.