The Second Seduction

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by Shelley Munro


  lind alone with her thoughts.

  Hawk.

  Intense curiosity burned inside, and she wished Mary

  were here so they could discuss the matter. Th

  is wasn’t the

  fi rst time the name Hawk had come to her in a vision. Just

  this morning, when she had treated the stable boy’s cough, she

  had read the lad’s mind and seen a faceless character. Rosalind

  frowned. Th

  e stable boy was terrifi ed of the mystery man.

  Rosalind paced the length of her chamber, concentrating

  on the two diff erent visions. Curious, that neither were clear.

  She paused by the walnut dresser, then nodded abruptly.

  Th

  e solution was obvious. She needed to investigate

  Hawk herself and discover the man’s identity.

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  X

  Early the next morning, Rosalind watched Hastings trot

  from the courtyard on Oberon. Alone again. Dejected,

  she sighed before turning her attention to the chaffi

  ng dish of

  eggs on the side table.

  “Gloomy pile of rocks,” she muttered. Th

  e idea of staying

  inside the castle all day brought on the urge to scream, loud

  and long, until everyone knew of her displeasure. With Mary

  missing, she wanted to walk to the village and question the

  seamstress. Yes, she’d go, she decided, whether Hastings ap-

  proved of the idea or not.

  Th

  e butler entered the room and hovered just inside the

  doorway. After a pause, he coughed.

  “Did you want something, Tickell?”

  “I do not wish to disturb you, my lady, but there is a

  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  boy from the village at the kitchen door. He refuses to leave

  until he sees you.” It was clear Tickell was off ended by the

  boy’s impudence.

  Rosalind pushed her of plate of half-eaten food away,

  unable to eat while her mind was full of worry about Mary.

  Perhaps the boy had news. “I will see him.”

  “In here?” Tickell’s voice rose in horror.

  Rosalind took that to mean the boy from the village was

  a dirty urchin with light fi ngers. Either that, or the thought of

  Lady Augusta’s disapproval struck healthy fear in the butler.

  Good point, she decided. “I will come to the kitchen. Let me

  fi nish breaking my fast fi rst.”

  “You will come to the kitchens?” Tickell sounded even

  more critical of this decision.

  “Give the boy something to eat while he is waiting,” Ro-

  salind instructed. In an act of dismissal, she picked up her cup

  of chocolate giving Tickell no further opportunity to object.

  She grinned inwardly as the pause between his speaking and

  moving to carry out her instructions lengthened. Finally, she

  heard a sniff then slow, plodding footsteps as he left.

  Th

  e instant Tickell’s footfalls faded she leapt to her feet

  and, after two wrong turnings, reached the kitchen slightly

  out of breath.

  Th

  e cook, a thin woman with bright red cheeks and

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  SHELLEY MUNRO

  wisps of brown hair escaping from under her cap, looked up

  from her pastry. “Oh, my lady! Are ye lost?” she blurted.

  “No, I’ve come to see the village boy. Tickell said he was

  waiting to speak with me.” Rosalind searched the smoky

  room, but the only child visible was the one stacking logs

  beside the hearth. He tossed a log on the blazing fi re, the vig-

  orous fl ames sending off sweltering waves of heat. An older

  boy turned a spit bearing a large joint of beef.

  Tickell stalked over to direct orders at a minion pluck-

  ing a chicken. When silence fell in the kitchen, he turned.

  “Lady Rosalind. Th

  ere you are.” His vexation at Rosalind’s

  appearance was evident in his straight shoulders and com-

  pressed mouth.

  Rosalind smothered a smile. “I came as soon as I fi nished

  my meal.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “Where is the boy?” If he was in the kitchen, she couldn’t

  see him.

  “He is outside.” Pained infl ection this time as he glanced

  at the door leading to the kitchen garden.

  Rosalind betrayed none of her annoyance. “Has he

  eaten?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  Tickell allowed a slight sniff . “Yes, my lady.”

  “Very well. I would like a pot of chocolate and two cups,

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  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  please.” Rosalind noted three stools in the far corner near the

  door. “We will have our chocolate over there.” She swept past

  Tickell and across the uneven fl agstone fl oor to summon the

  boy inside.

  Outside, a grubby boy scrambled to his feet. His nut-

  brown eyes widened until they resembled the round buttons

  on her best cloak. As she studied him, he swallowed audibly,

  but stood his ground despite his obvious unease.

  She smiled. “Hello. I am Lady Rosalind. I understand you

  wish to speak with me on a matter of grave importance.”

  Th

  e child swallowed again.

  “Come inside. I have sore need of a cup of chocolate. I

  expect you’d like one too.” Rosalind made her way back into

  the kitchen, past the disapproving Tickell and the gaping

  cook to the group of stools. Th

  e hesitant footsteps behind

  told her the child followed as instructed.

  “Sit,” she said to the boy, promptly following her own

  instruction. “Ah, here is the chocolate now.” Rosalind smiled

  encouragement at the young maid. A footman arrived with a

  small wooden table and the maid set down the tray with the

  chocolate pot, cups, and a plate of jam tarts.

  “Would you like me to pour?” she asked Rosalind.

  “Th

  ank you, but I will do it.”

  “What is your name?” Rosalind asked, when the doubtful

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  maid had left them alone. She poured the chocolate into the

  two cups and noted that after sharp words from Tickell, the

  routine in the kitchen gradually resumed. After adding a

  spoonful of honey to sweeten the chocolate, she handed the

  cup to the boy. She placed two tarts on a plate and gave that

  to the child as well.

  “Billy. My name is Billy.”

  “Well, Billy, how can I help you?”

  Th

  e boy’s hand trembled. To give him time to gather his

  courage, Rosalind picked up her cup and took a sip.

  “‘Tis my brother,” the boy mumbled. He picked up a jam

  tart and took a cautious bite.

  “Is something wrong with your brother? Is he sick?”

  Billy nodded vigorously while stuffi

  ng the rest of the jam

  tart in his mouth. He swallowed loudly, then coughed.

  Rosalind hid her smile and refi lled his cup with choco-

  late. “Take a drink before you tell me more.”

  A slurp sounded. Th

  en, Billy placed his cup down and

  leaned toward Rosalind. “Bin shot,” the boy whispered.

  Rosalind drew in a shar
p breath.

  “In the leg,” he said. “He can’t work at his job in the

  stables. Ma cries. I heard how you be a healer.” Billy looked at

  her with childish hope. “You will come?”

  Shot. Rosalind glanced over her shoulder to see if any of

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  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  the servants were listening. Satisfi ed none were close enough

  to hear, she whispered, “Who shot your brother?”

  “Excise men chasing the smugglers.”

  “Smugglers!” Rosalind slapped a hand over her mouth.

  Another glance over her shoulder reassured her no one had

  overheard. “Your brother is involved with the smugglers?”

  “Aye, lady.”

  Hawk. “I will come and see your brother. Finish your

  chocolate while I collect my bag of medicines.” Rosalind stood.

  “Wait for me here.” Th

  e perfect opportunity to ask questions

  about Mary’s disappearance and the mystery man, Hawk.

  A loud grinding rumble sounded without warning. Th

  e

  ground shook beneath her feet. Billy gasped, his eyes huge in

  a terrifi ed face. A scream from the cook echoed through the

  kitchen. Th

  e rumbling increased. Copper pots and stoneware

  thumped to the ground. Iron pans clattered across the fl oor

  before rattling to a noisy halt on the fl agstones. Th

  e stack of

  logs by the fi re toppled over.

  “Lord save us!” a maid screeched.

  Rosalind heard another praying at the top of her voice. A

  footman tripped over a log and cursed.

  Tickell shouted for quiet. His hand lashed out, striking

  the nearest maid across the face. Her piercing screech sub-

  sided into noisy weeping.

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  SHELLEY MUNRO

  Rosalind grabbed Billy’s upper arm. “Run outside. Wait

  in the garden and don’t come back inside. Hurry!”

  Billy stood, but hesitated. Impatient, Rosalind shoved

  him in the middle of the back. “Hurry, Billy.”

  Dust and smoke fi lled the air, partially obscuring vision,

  making her eyes water. Another piercing scream rent the

  air. Rosalind whirled to see a maid disappear from sight.

  Her scream echoed eerily for a long time after she vanished

  through a hole in the fl oor.

  Th

  e fl oor shook again and the fl agstones lifted like a pot

  of stew bubbling on the fi re. Th

  e beef roasting on the spit

  toppled into the fi re. Th

  e meat hissed. A shower of hot embers

  shot out onto the hearth.

  “Tickell!” Rosalind grabbed hold of a sturdy table and

  inched toward the butler. “What’s happening?”

  Th

  e fl oor shifted, sending Tickell lurching. An iron hook

  tumbled from the table where a maid had left it, striking Tick-

  ell on the head. Blood gushed from his temple. At Rosalind’s

  shout, Tickell looked up, his face full of dazed confusion.

  “Tickell, go outside into the garden. Take Winifred with

  you.” Rosalind grabbed a sobbing Winifred and shoved her

  at Tickell. “Go.” Her words were a sharp order and the butler

  obeyed without hesitation.

  Th

  e rumbling ceased. A nerve-wrenching groan sounded

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  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  to her right. Rosalind edged closer to the huge, gaping hole

  that had appeared in the kitchen fl oor. When the dust cleared,

  she saw the sparkling blue of the ocean.

  Rosalind patted the maid on the shoulder, intending to

  comfort. Instead, she relived the maid’s memories of her friends

  toppling into the hole. Horrifi ed, she wrenched her hand away.

  Her breathing sounded harsh and loud to her ears. Her heart

  thundered, the fearful image replaying in her mind.

  Fretful cries and hysterical sobs galvanized her to action.

  “Are you hurt?” she demanded of the maid.

  “No, Lady Rosalind.”

  “Go and fi nd Lord St. Clare or Mr. Soulden. Tell them

  I need their help.”

  Th

  e maid sniff ed and wiped a dirty hand across her tear-

  stained cheek. “Yes, Lady Rosalind.”

  Rosalind rushed to the side of the scullery boy. He lay on

  the fl oor, his skinny legs protruding from under a butcher’s

  slab. She felt for his pulse. Th

  en swallowed. Th

  e poor child

  was dead. Rosalind moved on to the next. Th

  is time when she

  touched the undercook, she felt a tiny, unsteady pulse beat.

  Lord St. Clare burst into the kitchen. “Rosalind, child.

  What has happened?”

  Charles followed a few seconds later. “What’s wrong? I

  couldn’t make sense of the maid’s blathering. She said the

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  SHELLEY MUNRO

  bottom had fallen out of England.”

  Rosalind attempted a smile. “Not England. Castle St.

  Clare. Th

  e fl oor has collapsed. We need help. Some of the

  servants are badly injured. We must move them in case more

  of the fl oor disintegrates.”

  “Rosalind, child. Let Charles and I deal with this. You

  go outside with the rest of the servants.”

  “No. I can help. I am skilled in healing. You need me here.”

  “She’s right.” Charles assisted a pale, shocked servant to

  her side. Th

  e girl’s arm was bent at an unnatural angle. “Th

  is

  girl is hurt. Where’s Tickell?”

  “He’s injured. I sent him outside with one of the maids.”

  Th

  e earl’s face paled in shock. “God, Charles. Look.”

  Charles edged toward the gaping hole. Rosalind inched

  forward too, even though gazing down the crevice made her

  dizzy. Th

  e chocolate in her stomach swirled in agitation, but

  awed horror propelled her to look. Far below, wicked rocks

  glistened with the sea spray. A briny tang fi lled her nostrils.

  Th

  e lifeless body of a maid fl oated in the water, hitting

  against the razor sharp rocks with each fresh surge of the

  tide. Another body draped over an out-hanging rock. Rosa-

  lind squeezed her eyes shut. Th

  e sick sensation in her belly

  intensifi ed. She didn’t want to look, but she had to. It could

  have easily been her down there. Or Billy.

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  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  Charles glanced over his shoulder. “Rosalind, we’re going

  to need help. Summon the stable lads and send a servant to

  bring Justin. He knows the coastline well. It may be easier to

  climb up rather than risk dropping ropes down.”

  Th

  e meal that night was a simple one. Rosalind gazed down

  at her plate and wondered how the others were able to eat.

  Th

  e thought of it made her ill — all those poor servants.

  “Summon Tickell,” Lady Augusta said, after slurping the

  last spoonful of game soup from her bowl.

  “Tickell is ill,” Rosalind said. “I sent him to his quarters

  to rest.”

  “But, I want more soup.”

  Rosalind knew the elderly lady was in cons
tant pain

  from her aching bones, but that didn’t excuse her bad man-

  ners. “Would you like more soup?”

  “I said so, didn’t I?”

  St. Clare sighed, looking old and tired. “Augusta, let the

  servants be. Th

  ey have lost friends today.”

  Rosalind laid down her spoon and stood. She moved past

  Charles, their guest Justin, and St. Clare at the head of the table.

  “Where are you going?” Lady Augusta demanded. “We

  191

  SHELLEY MUNRO

  aren’t fi nished our meal.”

  “You wanted more soup.” Rosalind reached for the

  tureen sitting near Lady Augusta’s right hand. “One spoon

  or two?”

  Charles chuckled. Justin grinned, but Lady Augusta let

  out a screech of horror.

  “Put that down,” she hissed.

  Rosalind fi lled Lady Augusta’s soup bowl despite the

  woman’s horror. “Anyone else?”

  “I’ll have some, child,” St. Clare said. “Augusta, stop your

  snarling. Th

  e child is right. Th

  e servants that are unharmed

  have enough to do.”

  With the soup served, Rosalind slipped back into her

  chair. One thing preyed on her mind. Mary had burbled

  endlessly of the treasure but hadn’t mentioned any tunnels

  running beneath Castle St. Clare. “Did you know of the tun-

  nels beneath the kitchen? Have they always been there?”

  St. Clare stared at his soup. “Th

  ere have always been

  rumors handed down through the family of tunnels and lost

  treasure. I searched as a young lad, as did these two scamps

  along with Hastings when they were younger. None of us

  found a hint of a secret passage. I thought the stories of the

  lost St. Clare treasure were just that — rumors.”

  “You didn’t fi nd any concealed passages when you were

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  THE SECOND SEDUCTION

  looking?” Rosalind asked, scrutinizing faces closely.

  Charles shrugged. “Not a thing.”

  “We did fi nd the priest’s hole,” Justin said.

  “Th

  at’s right,” Charles said. “I’d forgotten about that.”

  Lady Augusta chuckled without warning. “I remember

  how disappointed you were when you found it led nowhere.”

  Doubt and a hint of suspicion rose in Rosalind. How

  could none of the family be aware of the labyrinth beneath

  the castle? She peered at each of the men. Was one of them

  responsible for the cave-in? “Someone knows about the pas-

  sages,” she said. “Th

  e digging is fresh. Our servants died

 

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