As Lottie gazed up at him, big and angry and dangerous in the moonlight, she was startled to realize that she desperately wanted him to lay a hand on her. She wanted him to lay his hand against her breast, to tenderly cradle its softness in the cup of his palm as he slowly lowered his mouth to hers and…
An outraged shriek pierced the thick wood of the door, shattering the shocking fantasy.
"Yes, that much is evident, isn't it?" Lottie retorted, struggling to gather her wits. "Perhaps if you had, we'd all be in bed asleep right now. So would you care to tell me what set her off this time? I trust it didn't go well when you summoned her."
"Not particularly." Stepping away from her, Hayden rubbed the back of his neck, his reluctance to confide in her nearly palpable. "I told her that if she didn't offer you an apology in front of the servants, I was going to send her away to school. And I told her I meant it this time."
A tendril of warmth unfurled low in Lottie's belly. The last thing she had expected him to do was champion her. But then another thought occurred to her. If he sent Allegra away to school, he would have no further need of her. Although she couldn't have said why, that realization flooded her with an emotion dangerously close to panic.
She turned around, closing her hand around the doorknob.
"I'm warning you," Hayden said. "You won't be able to reason with her. Not when she's seized in the grips of this madness."
Lottie cast him an exasperated look over her shoulder. "Oh, she's mad, all right. She's absolutely furious!"
Throwing open the door, she marched into the corridor. Meggie watched her approach, her eyes wide with alarm.
Following fast on Lottie's heels, Hayden snapped, "Let her in."
Although the maid's eyes widened even further, she clearly had no intention of defying her master. She threw open Allegra's door, then quickly sought shelter in young Jem's arms.
Lottie's steps never faltered, not even when a porcelain washbasin went whizzing past her head and smashed into the corridor wall, only a few inches away from where Hayden was standing. She simply reached behind her and closed the door in his face. Judging from the shambles the room was in, Allegra was rapidly running out of things to throw.
The girl crouched in the middle of an enormous four-poster, her hands gripping the tumbled bedclothes. Her face was mottled with rage, her long, dark lashes clumped together by tears. As Lottie calmly surveyed her, Allegra let out an earsplitting shriek and reached for the only object still left on the bed — which just happened to be Lottie's doll. Snatching the doll up by one foot, Allegra drew it back over her head.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Although Lottie's voice was low, it was laced with enough threat to give the girl pause. Especially when Lottie reached behind her once again and turned the key in the lock.
Allegra slowly lowered the doll, her eyes wild and her chest heaving. "Didn't they warn you? You shouldn't come near me when I'm like this. I'm quite mad, you know. I-I-I can't control myself. I might hit you or kick you or scratch you… or… or…" She bared her pearly little teeth. "Why, I might even bite you!"
"If you do, then I shall bite you back. I've had experience, you know. I once bit the king."
Allegra's jaw dropped. "Of England?"
"The very same. It took six of his guards to pry my teeth loose from his arm. Or was it eight?" Actually, it had only been three, but Lottie felt a little exaggeration was never amiss, either in literature or in life.
She meandered over to the bed. Allegra scrambled backward until her shoulders were pressed against the headboard. "I'm warning you! Don't come near me. If you do, I'll… I'll hold my breath until I turn blue."
"Go right ahead. Don't let me stop you." Lottie sank down on the foot of the bed, smiling pleasantly at the child.
Looking more irritated than enraged now, Allegra gulped in a deep breath, pursed her lips, and puffedout her cheeks. As the child's eyes bugged out and her color slowly shifted from pink to purple, Lottie counted beneath her breath. She had only reached thirty-five when Allegra collapsed on the pillows, gasping for air.
"Not very impressive, I'm afraid," Lottie said, shaking her head. "Once when my sister gave the last tea cake to my brother, I held my breath for almost two minutes. By the time I was done, my sister was weeping and George was on his knees, begging me to eat the cake."
Allegra sat up, lowering her head like a bull about to charge. She'd obviously saved her most dire threat for last. "If you don't leave my room this very instant, I'm going to scream."
Lottie simply smiled.
Allegra opened her mouth.
Lottie screamed.
It was a full-throated, operatic masterpiece, designed to pierce every eardrum within a fifty-league radius. If there had been an unbroken piece of porcelain left in the room, it would have shattered into a thousand pieces.
Only as the scream tapered off did Lottie become aware of fists pounding frantically on the door and a masculine voice shouting her name. The door came crashing inward, splintering right off its hinges. Hayden quickly followed, stumbling to a halt and looking utterly flummoxed to find Lottie sitting on the foot of the bed, a serene smile curving her lips while Allegra cowered against the headboard, her hands clamped to her ears.
Martha and a white-bearded gentleman Lottie assumed must be the village doctor hovered behind Hayden, their own expressions equally bewildered.
Sobbing hoarsely, Allegra went bounding off the bed. She ran right past her father and into Martha's arms.
Throwing her arms around the woman's ample waist, she cried, "Oh, Martha, please make her go away! I'll be good, I swear I will! I'll do whatever Father wants! Just please don't let her bite me or make that dreadful noise again!"
As Allegra buried her face in Martha's bosom, still sobbing, Lottie rose from the bed. Hayden was staring at her as if she were Attila the Hun and Joan of Arc all wrapped into one.
"I believe she'll sleep now," Lottie told him. She gave the doctor a pointed glance. "Without the laudanum."
Tightening the sash of her dressing gown, she sailed past them all and out of the bedchamber. She emerged into the corridor to find Meggie, Jem, and the rest of the servants eyeing her with a newfound mixture of trepidation and respect.
"Oh, m'lady, we thought the young miss was murderin' you, we did," Meggie blurted out. "I've never seen the master in such a state. Why, he shoved Jem right out of the way and broke down the door hisself!"
As Lottie passed, biting back a smile as she imagined Hayden battering down that door like a knight rushing to the rescue of his lady fair, each of the servants in turn offered her a bow or curtsy. She knew Allegra's apology could wait until morning. Now that they were free to finish out their night in peace, it no longer mattered to the servants if she was rumored to have been the mistress of every nobleman in London.
They were simply grateful that she was now theirs.
Chapter 13
How was I to discover what terrible secrets lurked behind the locked door of his heart?
AFTER THAT NIGHT, ALLEGRA BECAME A MODEL pupil. She showed up for her lessons each morning promptly at ten o'clock, pinafore starched and stockings neatly gartered. She would stand beside her desk, hands clasped in front of her, and decline one Latin noun after another, then follow that with a matter-of-fact recitation of her multiplication tables. She could locate Marrakesh on the globe and deliver an oral history of both the Ostrogoths and the Visigoths that would have made the Romans weep with envy.
Lottie no longer had to shake out her shoes each morning before donning them or hide her bonnets just in case a stray goat wandered into her bedchamber. With both Allegra and the ghost holding their silence, they were all able to enjoy severalblissfully peaceful nights of sleep. It seemed a truce had been declared at Oakwylde Manor, albeit a wary one.
But without the challenge of foiling Allegra's schemes, Lottie soon found herself plagued by another malady — boredom. If anything, Hayden was even more distant than bef
ore, treating her with the remote courtesy one might accord to a second cousin thrice removed. And although she was grateful for her friend's loyal companionship, Harriet's company had never been overly scintillating. Her chief topic of conversation was usually whatever they'd had for tea the day before.
One gloomy Tuesday morning found both her and Allegra gazing out the schoolroom window, watching rain trickle down the mullioned panes. As one raindrop merged into another, Lottie felt her eyelids growing heavy. Allegra's yawn was quickly echoed by one of her own.
Catching herself before she could slump into a full-blown doze, Lottie closed the book on her desk with a decisive snap.
Allegra started guiltily and began scribbling madly in her ledger.
Lottie rose. "We've been studying Magellan and de Soto for the past week. Well, I say what better way to understand the mind of a great explorer than to go exploring."
"Exploring?" Although Allegra looked no less wary than usual, a spark of interest lit her eyes.
"Rumor has it that this manor has over fifty rooms and I've probably only seen half of those. Why don'twe start with the attic and work our way down? We might even find some of those priest holes and secret passages Meggie and Jem are always whispering about."
"But what about Father? If I don't finish my lesson for today, he won't be pleased, will he?"
Lottie felt an impish smile curve her lips. "Rumor also has it that your father rode over to Boscastle with his steward this morning to settle some accounts and he won't return until late afternoon. Even Martha has gone off to the village for the day to visit her sister." Although Allegra still looked doubtful, Lottie held out her hand. "Come, my little conquistador, there are new worlds for us to conquer."
* * *
On such a dark and windy day with the rain beating against the gabled roof, there was no better, more cozy, place to be than a sprawling attic. The interconnected warren of rooms with their trunks full of moth-eaten clothes and abandoned toys kept Lottie and Allegra occupied for most of the morning. In one corner, Lottie found a speckled rocking horse. She gently ran a hand over its rough-hewn neck, wondering if it had once belonged to Hayden.
They finally emerged from the attic near noon with dirt-smudged stockings and cobwebs in their hair. Although Allegra clung to her stony reserve, Lottie kept up a stream of chatter amiable enough for the both of them.
They wandered the second and third floors for a while, finding only bedchambers and sitting rooms dusty from disuse. They had reached the end of a long portrait-lined gallery when they heard footsteps approaching.
Lottie snatched up Allegra's hand and darted toward a back staircase. Although she knew very well that it was probably only Meggie carrying an armful of fresh linen, she hissed, "Come, de Soto! It's those cursed English seeking to plunder our ships and steal our booty!"
By the time they reached the ground floor, Lottie was breathless with laughter and even Allegra seemed to be struggling to hold back a smile. They emerged from the stairwell and stumbled to a halt in the middle of a broad corridor lined with doors.
Her expression darkening, Allegra began to back toward the mouth of the corridor. "We shouldn't be here. It's not allowed."
Lottie slowly turned, recognizing the double doors at the far end of the corridor. They were in the west wing, standing in the very spot where she had heard the ghostly strains of piano music her first night at the manor.
Allegra cast a guilty glance over her shoulder, her voice growing more urgent. "We really should go. I'm not supposed to play here."
But Lottie's gaze was drawn back to those mysterious doors. The doors Hayden had pinned her to with his hot, hungry hands. The doors he had refused to so much as look at when she had mentioned the music.
She began to walk toward them, her steps measured. "What sort of explorers would we be," she asked softly, "if we fled at the first sign of danger?"
She reached for one of the doorknobs, her fingers trembling ever so slightly.
"There's no use." Allegra drifted toward the doors, almost as if she couldn't help herself either. "They've been locked for over four years. Martha's the only one allowed a key."
Lottie knew it was wrong to encourage Allegra to disobey her father. But curiosity was fast overcoming her conscience. If he had nothing to hide, why would Hayden insist that the doors be kept locked?
Allegra crept nearer as Lottie reached into her chignon, tugging out a hairpin. Since she wasn't wearing a hat, it would have to do. After several minutes of poking, jiggling, and muttering, she finally felt the lock surrender to her touch.
She straightened. Allegra was hovering so close Lottie could hear each rapid, shallow breath the child took. She reached behind her and clutched Allegra's icy hand, not sure if she was doing it to reassure Allegra or herself.
As Lottie eased open the door, an involuntary sigh escaped her lips. The octagonal-shaped room was exquisite — airy, delicate, and feminine, without a trace of the dark mahogany that brooded over the rest of the manor. It had been decorated in the Greek revival fashion so favored by the cream of society only a few years ago. The walls were paneled inwhite wainscoting trimmed with gold leaf. Hand-painted flowers adorned every cornice and frieze. Slender columns graced the perimeter of the room, soaring toward a domed skylight that defied the gloom by coaxing every last drop of light from the weeping sky. The lower panels of the dome had been painted an ethereal shade of blue and splashed with fluffy white clouds.
"I've always imagined that heaven would look something like this," Lottie whispered, reluctant to disturb the hush.
Except for the gentle patter of the rain against the skylight, the only sound was the shuffle of their slippers as she and Allegra drifted across the parquet floor, hand in hand.
If this was heaven, then the woman in the portrait hanging over the white marble mantel must surely be an angel. As soon as Lottie had been old enough to crawl out of her cradle and toddle over to a mirror, she had recognized herself as an Incomparable Beauty. But this divine creature with her flowing sable curls and laughing violet eyes was beyond comparison.
At least Ned had the good sense not to send me a brunette.
As Hayden's rueful words echoed through her memory, Lottie absently touched a hand to her own hair. For the first time, it seemed washed out to her, a pale shadow of some more vibrant hue.
The woman in the portrait didn't have the alabaster complexion of an English rose, but a sultry Gallic glow. She was gazing at someone just to the left of the artist, someone who coaxed a teasing pout to her lush lips and made her eyes sparkle with unspoken promises. It was difficult to believe such a spirit could ever be snuffed out of existence. Even frozen forever on canvas, Justine was more alive than most women could ever hope to be.
She was the sort of woman a man might die for. The sort of woman he might kill for.
Lottie was so shaken that she didn't feel Allegra's fingers slip away from hers until they were gone. She turned to find the child gazing up at the portrait with an almost eerie detachment.
"Your mother was very beautiful," Lottie said, struggling to hide her own unease.
Allegra shrugged. "I suppose so. I don't really remember her."
Hoping to break the portrait's seductive spell, Lottie turned her back on it, realizing as she did so that the chamber wasn't a drawing room, but a music room. A gilded harp sat in one corner next to a low-slung divan. In the opposite corner was a clavichord that would have probably been more comfortable in a music room of a century ago. But the centerpiece of the room was a Viennese piano that had been hand-painted white to match the wainscoting. Its wing-shaped lid was propped upright, its curved cabriole legs a study in grace.
Lottie moved to the instrument and gently ran one finger along its gleaming bone and ebony keys. There wasn't a speck of dust to be found anywhere on it. If Martha was the only one allowed a key to this chamber, then she was a very diligent keeper of her former mistress's memory.
Catching a flicke
r of movement out of the corner of her eye, Lottie asked Allegra, "Do you play?"
The girl snatched her hand away from the keys and tucked it behind her back. "Of course not. Father would never allow it."
Lottie frowned. There were several yellowing pieces of music scattered across the music stand, almost as if their mistress had simply excused herself to indulge in afternoon tea and might return at any moment. As Lottie slid onto the bench, she felt as if she were profaning a sacred altar.
She flexed her fingers, toyed with a few awkward chords, then began to play. The piano had a beautiful tone — rich, sweet, and majestic. Lottie had always enjoyed banging away on just about any instrument. Long before Sterling had engaged her first music master, she, George, and Laura had spent many a happy evening gathered around the battered pianoforte in Lady Eleanor's drawing room.
After a stumbling start, her fingers danced nimbly over the keys in a sprightly passage from Handel's "Water Music" that had always been one of her favorites. She stole a glance over her shoulder at Allegra.
The child was gazing at the keys with a rapt hunger Lottie had never before seen on her face. Shifting tempo, Lottie launched into a merry Scottish jig. Grinning over her shoulder at Allegra, she sang in a exaggerated Scottish burr —
"My wife's a wanton wee thing, She winna be guided by me.
She sell'd her coat and she drank it,
She sell'd her coat and she drank it,
She row'd herself in a blanket,
She winna be guided by me."
Before long, Allegra was humming along and tapping her foot in time to the rousing rhythm. After the third verse, she joined in on the chorus, shyly at first, but gaining confidence with each note. Her voice was a dusky alto, the perfect complement to Lottie's soprano.
For some reason, Lottie couldn't bear the thought of watching Allegra retreat back into her wary shell. After she had exhausted every verse of the song, she began to make up verses of her own. Her absurd improvisations soon had them both laughing so hard they could barely gasp out the words to the chorus. Neither one of them realized that they had left the door to the music room ajar.
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