The Heir of Blackwood Library
The gas lamps of London flickered like dying stars as Arthur Blackwood stood before the heavy oak door of his late uncle's townhouse in Bloomsbury. The key, cold and iron-heavy in his palm, had belonged to Professor Whitmore for forty years. Now it belonged to Arthur, whether he wanted it or not. The inheritance of a ruined noble family was not gold or land, but debt, dust, and a library that...
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