By contrast, Falgate Hall was a dark, forbidding fortress. Few windows warmed its rock-lined rooms. Dark, drafty hallways held the chill of regret. In winter, cold could cut straight through a fur-lined coat. Even the large parlor, with its huge fireplaces, rarely achieved comfortable warmth.
Sarah led him around a corner to a heavy set of doors, chose a key from the chain around her neck, let them into a sunny office and relocked the doors. “So here we are,” she said softly.
Damen took in his surroundings. “Now this room is more to my taste.”
Spacious windows shed light on white paneling. Ionic pilasters graced the bookcases lining the walls. Faint odors of tobacco and pipe smoke pervaded the large gentleman’s office-library. Twin fireplaces sat at opposite ends of the room with several elegant desks and a scattering of cushioned armchairs in between. Damen turned, admiring the comfortable masculine retreat.
“I’m not sure where to begin. Edward often escaped here to do what he called ‘puttering’.”
Noises echoed in the outside corridor. Damen held up his hand and pointed. The sounds finally coalesced into lumbering footfalls. Before long, someone knocked.
He dashed behind the door as Sarah unlocked it and opened it a crack.
“Oh, there you are, my lady. I thought I heard your voice,” Megpeas wheezed through the gap. “I do beg your pardon. Lately, your brother and Lord Lumsley have taken to visiting unexpectedly. Should I have Cook prepare extra just in case?”
Sarah let out a breath. “Good thinking, Megpeas. Yes, that would be the safest, I dare say. If they don’t pop by there is sure to be someone else who would welcome a good meal.”
“Very good, my lady, I’ll tell her.”
Damen finally relaxed when the butler’s footsteps receded down the hall. “In this vast mansion, how would he know you were here?” He knew she feared gossip, and in truth, he preferred their friendship remain secret. The fewer who knew, the less chance they’d be caught unawares by unwelcome surprises.
Sarah gazed about forlornly and rubbed her forehead. “I asked Megpeas where he thought Lord Strathford might have put the plans. He suggested this office. My husband only allowed Megpeas to clean it, and always kept it locked. I haven’t had the heart to come in here since… well, anyway, if he made drawings or took out patents for his inventions, this is probably where he’d have done it.”
“Did you tell anyone I’d be here today?”
“No! And I’d like to keep it that way.”
***
Sarah strode to the nearest desk and riffled through the papers. Megpeas’ ill-timed inquiry had rattled her as well. After her mother’s untimely death, he and Gracie had nearly become her second set of parents. She knew she could trust them with her secrets, but she didn’t want to disappoint them. When her father’s edicts failed, upsetting Gracie and Megpeas had checked any residual impulses. Until now.
“Let’s start with the desks. Hopefully Edward dated his papers. I suggest we concentrate on those from at least three years ago. That is when he became too busy to…” She nearly said “too busy to come to my bed”, but caught herself. “About that time he became very tight-lipped about the project he was working on.”
Damen moved to the desk with the tallest piles and briefly examined the drawers before attacking the papers. After searching several stacks, he grumbled, “Scratches. Jam smears. Equations. Scribbles. Tea stains. That about sums up these papers. Do you really think he would have left items of a sensitive nature in plain sight?”
For some reason the words sensitive nature caused an image of the secret seraglio to take form in Sarah’s mind. In that image Mr Ravenhill lay sprawled among the furs. Heat rose up her collar. She fidgeted with a paper in her hand. “The only room in this mansion I knew Edward did not want me in was this one. Therefore, I can only assume this is where he kept his secrets.”
Ravenhill gazed appreciatively about the library. “You have a very interesting home, my lady. Clearly generations have invested in its artistry.”
“All compliments must go to Lord Merristone and his ancestors. Strathford bought this place a few years ago.” She picked up another piece of paper and scanned its contents.
Ravenhill moved to the side of her desk, folded his arms over his chest and reclined against it. “May I assume from the tunnel I entered that there are more secret places about this house?”
Sarah’s skin prickled at his nearness and the way his voice deepened.
“Perhaps there are closets, other passageways, or even hidden rooms?” He leaned in to gaze about her face and tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. “I’m not saying your husband would purposely hide the plans, but in a house this size, there seems ample room for secret, hidden places.”
Was she imagining it or were little sparks passing between them. She chewed on her lip. Of course the mansion had its hidey-holes. But she was not about to show a certain room to Mr Ravenhill. That would be far too intimate. And she wished its image would stop plaguing her. She reached out to pick up another piece of paper.
He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “Am I right?”
Her breath caught.
He kissed her knuckles, her forefinger, the tip, down the inside, and the ‘V’ between her two fingers. “Secret… hidden places,” he whispered.
“W… with a mansion this large and frequently remodeled,” she shivered, “it… it’s possible.”
In an effort to calm her pulse, she dragged her hand from his and quickly turned to the cabinet behind. “Perhaps I’ll have a look in here.” She pulled out the top drawer. Papers of all sizes had been carelessly stuffed inside. “Do you know the invention’s name, Mr Ravenhill?”
He didn’t answer, following her every move with an intensity that set her insides aquiver. Neither of her deceased husbands, even at their most amorous, had gazed upon her with such avid interest.
“I assume it might be called something like ‘tiny engine’,” he drawled.
“Oh, it would be more inventive than that. Edward liked naming things.” Ravenhill’s potent gaze had her hands trembling as if palsied. She pulled open the next drawer to find the same unruly organization. With the bottom drawer, she yanked too hard and dragged it completely out onto the floor. Something inside made an odd sound.
Curious, she scooped out the papers. Though identical to the other drawers, on moving it she could hear a distinct rattle. She retrieved Edward’s letter opener and pried up a board. On lifting another, she stifled a gasp.
“What did you find?” Ravenhill stepped forward.
“Oh, nothing,” she squeaked. She quickly replaced the boards and stuffed handfuls of papers back on top. Heavens! The false bottom held what looked to be more of Edward’s naughty toys. Why did he have so many?
She tried to distract Ravenhill by marching over to the bookshelves.
Leather-bound notebooks tucked into the far corner of a shelf caught her eye. The first she pulled out contained several large pieces of paper tucked inside. Unfolding them, she recognized the design for the Pony Rocket. Edward’s careful lines and precise penmanship revealed several different designs, apparently to accommodate the mechanism inside. The paper underneath had the Buzzy Bee’s design.
“What do you have there?” Damen whispered over her shoulder.
Sarah startled. “Dear me, I didn’t hear you approach.”
“Those pages look promising. What do you think they are?”
His heat warmed her back as he loomed over her and peered down at the drawings.
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” she lied, and hastily refolded them.
“No. Let me see.” He took the plans from her and held them out to study. “How odd. It appears this little contraption has an outer shell and an inner mechanism with cogs and wheels. I’d say it resembles the inner workings of a clock. But if this was a clock, I should think it’d have hands and a face.”
“You might have noticed my husband had a p
assion for timepieces. These are probably unfinished plans for more clocks.” She tugged the papers out of his hands and refolded them.
“Wait a minute, I need to study them a little more. Something about the drawing on the second page looks familiar.”
“No doubt it resembles one of our clocks.” She put the final fold in the paper, tucked it under her arm and turned to him. “Have you found anything promising in the cabinet?”
Ravenhill placed one hand on the bookshelf behind her head. With the other he ran his finger lightly along the folded papers under her arm. “Why are you in such a hurry to put these away?”
“We’ve still so many places to check,” she said a little too brightly. “I can tell these plans aren’t for an engine, merely one of Edward’s little inventions to parse time.”
Leaning in, his voice turned sultry. “And yet… you don’t wish for me to see them.”
She gazed down at his finger sliding along the seam of the folded papers, dangerously close to her breast.
“Now why is that, my lady?” He’d that charming gleam in his eye again, as if they were playing a game.
Her breast started to prickle. If he examined the drawings much more he’d soon recognize the plans for the Buzzy Bee. She needed to distract him. Out of desperation, she rose up on her toes and quickly brushed a caress across his mouth.
Maybe it was her unaccustomed impulsiveness or that she’d done something that amazed even her, but as their mouths met, she felt a jolt.
***
The charge of energy so thrilled Damen he lost all care for the plans. He’d sworn not to take advantage of Sarah. But yesterday, the delicate balance of their alliance changed. He’d felt it during their kiss in the doorway when her proper façade fell away. For a brief time, she’d shown the same hunger that had been building inside him.
He raised his hand to trail his fingers down her cheek. One touch couldn’t hurt, could it?
She was so beautiful, inside and out, beyond anything he’d ever thought possible.
Her full lashes fluttered closed then open to pierce his soul with keen cerulean desire. The heat of it hit his blood like oil thrown on a smoldering fire. Trust shone in her eyes as well.
A stab of conscience prodded him. He may be a total fraud, but he would not hurt her. He sincerely cared for her and wanted to help her prove she didn’t murder Strathford. An overwhelming protectiveness had taken root – almost primal in its intensity.
He lowered his head to brush a caress along her temple. Her scent of peaches and lavender worked on him like an opiate, making him dizzy.
She leaned in to him and her breathing increased, matching his own.
Electricity danced across his skin where they met.
How he loved the feel of her against him, so vibrant, warm and soft.
He slid his hand to circle her small waist. As he gently pressed her closer, she moved against him, stirring his cock into a delicious ache.
Surely she must know what she was doing to him.
Slowly, he let his lips drift over her cheekbones to linger a breath away from her mouth.
Would she close the distance?
Once their lips touched, he feared the fever in his blood would take over.
The anticipation was almost more than he could bear. He held his breath, praying she’d make the first move, shed the gray widow’s cocoon she’d enclosed herself in and unchain the sensuous seductress he knew dwelt inside.
Footsteps again shuffled down the outside hallway.
It took a moment for the seductive haze to clear before Damen realized he needed to follow her to the door and hide behind it.
A quiet knock and then Megpeas said through the door, “My lady, your brother and Lord Lumsley are in the breakfast parlor. Will you be joining them?”
Sarah grimaced. “Tell them to go ahead and start. I may eat later.”
His slow footsteps receded down the marble hall.
Damen stepped out from behind the door. The cloud of desire dissolved with the mention of her visitors. “Have they taken up permanent residence in your home?”
“Not officially,” Sarah sighed. “And I’m tiring of their spur-of-the-moment visits.”
Now daylight, with her staff, and Niles and Lumsley lurking about, they risked discovery. “I should go. You can let me out the way I came in. I’ll pull my cap low. In my workman’s clothes, no one will be the wiser.”
After Sarah escorted him to the secret tunnel’s door, she apologized. “I’m sorry we didn’t have more time.” Traces of disappointment and aggravation filled her voice. “Might you return this evening? Perhaps for dinner at eight? We could resume our search… after.”
CHAPTER 15
Niles set down the newspaper, picked up his hot cup of coffee and took a good long look at his oldest friend gobbling down yet another plate of Sarah’s excellent breakfast.
Crumbs dangled from Lumsley’s bushy mustache and dotted the tablecloth around her fine Sèvres china. With a crumpet in one hand and a jam tart in the other, he stuffed both into his mouth. His eyes rolled back in his head as he chewed and moaned, “Mmmm.” Plate empty, he pushed out of his chair and returned to the sideboard.
Niles had lost track of how many dishes he’d filled. Four? Five? No wonder he was growing portly. He retrieved his paper and held it up as a screen. The sight was making him ill.
They’d once had a jolly good time together. He’d frittered away his fortune like tomorrow would never come.
And then tomorrow finally arrived – in the form of Niles’s man of business.
On that chilly afternoon, he’d learned his plentiful inheritance had dwindled to barely a vicar’s living, enough to support him, but only if he held to a tight allowance. Lumsley helped him back on his feet, but Niles didn’t have his friend’s gift for organization or his eye for risky but profitable investments.
“I say, old boy,” Lumsley said stuffily, as he bit into a scone heaped with a fistful of clotted cream, “are you off your feed? You haven’t even tried the poached eel. Finest I’ve ever tasted. Your sis does an outstanding breakfast.”
“Another reason you should be happy to marry her,” Niles said acidly.
“Now, now don’t get tetchy. I was only joking when I said I’d hoped for a virgin on my wedding night. Everyone knows an experienced woman is more fun between the sheets than a cowering green girl. But don’t let me interrupt your sulk. When you’re done, you can tell me what’s really bothering you?”
“If I tell you again, will you listen this time?”
Lumsley took another bite of his scone and moaned.
Niles waited until he’d swallowed to make sure he had his stubborn friend’s full attention. “You must discuss your intentions with Sarah. Every day you delay puts my sweet sis more in jeopardy. Something has her highly distracted. She will not discuss it with me, but I can tell whatever it is has her more than a little disturbed. Now is your opportunity to offer help and get closer to her.”
“My God, man, her home is torn apart. I would say that’s plenty to keep any woman preoccupied. If you were a good brother—”
“Don’t start. You know my hands are tied.”
“And what about the police inspector? You said he seemed fairly well convinced Sarah set up Strathford’s death.”
“He’s a half-wit, throwing accusations around.” Irritated, Niles shook out his paper. “Sarah is the kindest of women. Not a violent bone in her body. Her solicitor will put him in his place. Besides, we all know I’d only make a hash of things. When are you going to get down to business?”
Frustration boiled in Niles’s gullet. Strathford never liked him, quite enjoyed spouting sayings like ‘a fool and his money are soon parted.’ When Lumsley was mentioned, he’d launch into ‘when you wallow with pigs all you get is dirty’.
Strathford had gone to a lot of trouble to put his fortune into a complicated trust.
No one had been more surprised than he to discover, afte
r Strathford’s death, that it all went to Sarah. He couldn’t touch a penny. Neither could Edward’s nephew, for that matter. Which was probably Strathford’s major intent.
By the way things were going, Sarah obviously didn’t know what she was doing. Even if Niles were capable of helping her, he had no say over her income. God only knew how much she’d already paid those idiots to destroy her mansion.
Lumsley could put things to rights, and he knew he’d pined after Sarah for years. It was time his friend declared himself.
“I’ve already offered to help with her renovation,” Lumsley sniffed between bites of bacon. “You heard her answer… ‘too many cooks in the kitchen’. Wasn’t that it? With women like your sister, you have to take it slow, let them come to you. Otherwise, you risk frightening them away. But I can tell she’s in my pocket, totally infatuated. How could she not be?” He chortled in his characteristic, fusty baritone. “Women love me. Why just the other night—”
Niles waved his hand as if chasing away an insect. “You pay those women to do for you. You’re their meal ticket. They would lick your boot if you paid them.”
“And other places as well, my fine friend.” Lumsley slurped his tea and waggled his brows. “Stop worrying. It’s only a matter of time before she comes begging for… well…” He pointed both thumbs to his belt and grinned.
“I’m her brother, remember?” he groaned. “You know I don’t want to hear about any of that.” His friend liked to joke about his prowess, but Niles knew it was only a jest.
“Well, what the bugger do you think is going to happen after we’re married?”
Niles scraped a hand over his face. “What I’m trying to say is… behind her somewhat eccentric, often whimsical moods and sometimes jarring remarks is an intelligent, perceptive woman. I tell you, something is afoot, and I’m worried. She’s changing before my eyes.”
“It’s Ravenhill,” Lumsley said flatly, biting into another crumpet and muttering between chews. “Time to put your foot down. He’s a menace… planting continental ideas into that sweet English woman’s head. Rest assured, men like him soon tire of their flirtations and break hearts. I doubt she’s anything more than Tuesday’s odd treat to him. I hate for her feelings to be hurt, but in the long run it will work in my favor. I’ll step in with a big shoulder to cry on, and she’ll insist we marry so I won’t get away as well.”
The Trouble With Seduction Page 13
