She lurched forward, anxious to reach him and usher him back to the house. She never should have left the room and slipped out in a selfish desire to spend a few minutes alone. Her grandfather looked up and smiled, seemingly proud he’d managed to elude any servant who might have kept him under watch.
Theodosia hurried. Her cloak snagged on a fallen beam and she snapped it loose, unwilling to take her eyes off her grandfather, though mindful steps would prove prudent. She’d almost reached the perimeter of the house when the earth shifted under her feet. She threw her arms out to regain her balance but it was of no use. She fell, through roots and a snow-soaked layer of soil, down into the burnt-out hole of what was once the house wine cellar. She’d known it was to be avoided, that area of the floor plan unstable and dangerous, but she hadn’t given a care in her rush to reach her grandfather.
She landed with a thud on her side, in complete blackness, down at least six feet with no way to climb the walls. Drawing a quick breath, she ascertained she’d only become scared, not injured, though her hip would be sore for having taken the bulk of the impact.
How would she climb out? Who would find her? She stood, her legs wobbly at first, and called above.
“Grandfather! Help! Can you hear me?” Would he respond? She couldn’t lure him to the edge of the hole for fear he would fall in too, and he would never survive the drop. But would he realize what happened? Would he return to the house and summon help? Panic gripped her but she pushed it away, unwilling to believe she was powerless to find a way out. Mrs. Mavis or Alberts would realize she’d gone missing, but would Grandfather be able to communicate what occurred? There were too many unknowns.
In a practice of science and logic, she listed the facts at the ready to form a solution. It was late, dark and cold. She had only a thin cloak for protection against the frigid temperature. She was in an unexpected location, below eye level, far enough from the house that her voice would not be heard. Grandfather was the only person who knew where she had fallen.
It was a dismal list, at best.
Hadn’t her life been equally dismal? Until lately, actually. Until Matthew. Grandfather’s condition might be difficult, but somehow whenever Matthew was with her, she didn’t doubt her abilities. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life alone. But she also didn’t want just anyone to be with her. She wanted Matthew. And that was the most important reason she needed to find a way out.
She moved toward one of the walls, smoothing her hand over the dirt in the darkness. A shower of loose soil and debris pelted her feet. There were thick roots protruding in some areas, though she couldn’t determine their size and strength to know if they’d offer support. And from what she could see, they didn’t reach the top of the hole, the knotty clusters not high enough to be of any help. To climb, lose purchase, and fall backward into the wine cellar again would guarantee broken bones. It was a miracle of sorts only her hip ached at present.
She closed her eyes and summoned strength. The thought of spending the entire night in the raw air on damp, charred soil, brought tears to her eyes before she could stop them, but she blinked them away. She could do this. She wouldn’t die a few days before Christmas in a house that once tried to steal her life and dreams. This house had already taken too much from her.
* * *
“Lord Whittingham. Good evening.”
Alberts opened the door wide and welcomed them into the foyer of Leighton House.
“It seems I have the habit of arriving at unexpected hours. Forgive us, Alberts. We made good time despite we landed on the doorstep at this late hour.” Matthew passed off his greatcoat to a waiting servant. “My driver has taken our carriage around back and two more conveyances have followed. We have, in fact, brought the holiday season with us.” He scanned the interior of the hall, gladdened to see several of the decorations he’d forwarded strewn in festive display. “May I inquire as to Lady Leighton’s and Lord Talbot’s whereabouts?” He was anxious to see her, hardly able to contain his own enthusiasm at seeing her shock upon his arrival. He hoped it was a pleasant reception. Coggs had planted a seed of doubt that intruded on his better intentions now, and for some reason, he knew he wouldn’t feel comfortable until he saw Theodosia.
“Of course, milord.” Alberts crimped a stiff smile. “Right this way.”
Alberts opened the double doors of the front sitting room, where a large fire burned in the box to suffuse the interior in a warm glow. He noted the crystal ornaments that adorned evergreen garland strewn across the mantel, but had no time to appreciate it further as the clap of the French doors banging against the wall pulled his attention across the room. “Alberts, what’s this?”
He quickly stepped inside, the butler behind him, to examine the vacant room. “Would Lady Theodosia venture outside this late at night? The temperature’s dropped considerably.” Something was wrong. He knew it warranted no further discussion and moved toward the open doors without delay. “Summon the servants, Alberts. Put together a group with lanterns and blankets. Something isn’t right.” He didn’t remain to say more and rushed through the French doors and farther out onto the property, his fancy boots little help, his limp ignored for the time being, and only the support of his walking stick in the blackness.
He stepped lively, though he was not as familiar with the terrain as he’d have liked. He recalled his explorations when using the sleigh and the pathways he’d traversed, though he didn’t assume he’d find Theodosia and Lord Talbot at the stables. Something told him to explore the ruins. It was a gut feeling at best, but he wouldn’t ignore the innate intuition. Science was sometimes mystery as much as fact.
He cursed repeatedly, impeded by his compromised pace, uneven terrain, and blasted darkness. He called out several times, but he only heard the echo of his own desperation. Each step reminded him of the cold, his muscles already cramped from travel. How long would Theodosia and her grandfather last in the brittle weather? Had harm come to one of them? His heart demanded he hurry.
He advanced to the end of the estate and out into the open field. In his mind’s eye he could see the ruins, but without the help of moonlight, he couldn’t be sure he walked in the right direction. And then a flash of white in a far field caught his attention. He hurried, ignoring the pain that shot through his calf and wrapped around his knee, and the throbbing cramps that plagued his thigh muscles. He used his walking stick more and more, the tip anxious to sink into the damp grass, but he refused to be hindered further. He could see more closely now. The flash of white was a person. Lord Talbot. In his nightclothes? Alone. The aged earl was rushing forward at a faster pace than Matthew could advance. That was a sorry fact he would put away for deliberation another time.
“Whittingham.” Lord Talbot came to stand in front of him, an expression of intense distress on his face.
Matthew took the moment to catch his breath, though he waited anxiously for Talbot to speak again. “What is it? Where’s Theodosia?”
“She’s fallen. She needs you.” Talbot turned and waved in the direction he’d come. “You must come.”
Matthew had never seen the earl so lucid. In a time of crisis Talbot had managed not to diminish his focus or become overwrought. Matthew sent a prayer of thanks heavenward and continued after the earl as fast as his legs would allow.
“Careful now.” Talbot beckoned him forward. “The earth is uneven and overgrown here. Theodosia fell near this spot.”
“Is she well? Did she sprain an ankle?” He was out of breath, but he wouldn’t stop. Not when Theodosia needed him. He loved her and he intended to tell her so and cause her to believe. He’d made dramatic changes in his life leading up to this visit, and he wasn’t about to have it all for naught when their future together remained so close.
“No.” Talbot stopped long enough to turn and eye him with urgency. “She’s fallen through the soil. Into the underground wine cellar at the rear of the old house.”
“What?” His heart paused i
n its beat before it lurched forward again. He couldn’t move fast enough. What if the fall had broken bones or knocked her unconscious? What if the impact caused one of the dirt walls to collapse? A vision of soil and rocks tumbling in on Theodosia had him begging his legs to move faster. The human body could live only three minutes without oxygen. Brain damage, nerve impairment, and a series of awful consequences began a chain reaction as air deprivation set in. Bloody hell, he’d talked with Alberts longer than three minutes in the foyer upon his arrival. It was wasted time. He should have told her his feelings. And been more adamant, convincing her of his sincerity. Damn his prevarication. But he hadn’t wanted to pressure her when she struggled with the turmoil evoked by Dr. Fletcher’s news.
At last Talbot slowed and motioned to an area to the left.
“Theodosia!” he yelled, loud enough to wake the dead.
For the longest moment, there came no answer and then—
“Matthew? Matthew!”
“Bookish!”
He walked gingerly, closer to her voice. He wouldn’t rush upon the hole and cause its collapse now that he’d heard her call and knew she’d survived.
“Theodosia, are you well?” Talbot called, his question filled with concern.
“Grandfather.” A wealth of relief accompanied the word. “I’m fine. Thank heavens you are too.”
Did he hear tears in her words?
A commotion in the distance pulled his attention toward the estate. Coggs and George appeared along with two stable hands. “Coggs, give me that lantern.” He reached for the light and turned toward Talbot next. “Return Lord Talbot to the house before he catches a chill. Use George’s lantern to guide you. Have these servants return here with blankets and light. In the meantime, I’ll see to Lady Theodosia.”
“Milord, your leg.”
“Stuff it, Coggs, and do as I say.” He turned away and began to move closer to the collapsed wine cellar. His valet and driver left with Lord Talbot, and in the distance he could already see the bobbing lanterns of other servants on the approach. But he’d be damned if anyone but he rescued Theodosia.
“Please tell me what happened.” He needed to keep her busy talking while he surveyed the area. He set the lantern down beside his walking stick before he lowered himself to the ground at the edge of the hole. Slowly he lowered the light in an attempt to see her. It was still too dark, but at least he could make out the dusky image of her face below. “There you are.”
“Here I am.”
She smiled and his heart filled with relief. She was all right.
“Out for a little stargazing?” He attempted levity. “Every scientist worth his weight knows the stars are aboveground, Bookish.”
“It was a foolish idea to come out here while Grandfather slept by the fire. I’ve been feeling . . .”
Her voice dropped away and he abandoned the task of formulating how he’d reach her. He extended his arm and moved the lantern lower. “Alone?”
“More than that. I’m quite accustomed to feeling alone. But this is more . . .”
Again her voice fell away, and when she looked upward, he saw the truth reflected in the silver glitter of her eyes.
“Incomplete?” He cleared his voice and held her gaze. “I only suggest the condition because I’m a sufferer myself.” He nodded. “Since you’ve left London, actually.”
“I’d rather not discuss London,” she answered quickly.
“Of course. Now’s not the time.” He set the lantern down on the rim of the hole and adjusted his position.
“How’s your leg? I hope you haven’t punished it to hurry out here. I’m well. Just a bit cold.”
He almost laughed at her self-reliance, though her inquiry supplied him the missing piece to the puzzle. “Here. Grab on.”
He leaned his arm as far over the edge as possible, his walking stick extended down into the hole. She climbed upward with the help of assorted roots that stuck out from the dirt walls, but to release them and grasp onto his stick would require a leap of faith, and he wasn’t sure his body could withstand the jolt of her added weight. He tightened his fingers around the ivory knob and waited.
When she made the move, his body lurched forward, the brunt of her weight almost pulling his upper body over the edge, though he held on, planted his toes in the soil, and slowly raised her up. She scrambled against the wall and climbed over the rim to lie on the cold soil next to him. It was a blessing she was such a delicate slip of a lady. His body was spent.
They were both breathing deeply, their exhales steamy clouds between them.
“Bookish, you—”
He never had the chance to finish. Her mouth sealed over his, the words lost, but he’d never complain.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Theodosia toweled dry, her body ahum with vigor and excitement. It was past midnight, but she’d lounged overlong in the hot tub, anxious to absorb the soothing warmth of her lavender bath. Matthew had come to Leighton House. She still couldn’t believe his thoughtful gesture. Not just in sending the holiday decorations ahead when she might have eschewed the joys of Christmas altogether. But he’d arrived with a veritable bounty more. Foodstuffs and packages, the likes of which she’d never experienced.
Grandfather was well, safely tucked in bed. His clarity tonight when she might have come to harm lingered as a sign of hope, and she clung to it as a miracle of sorts. There was no way to predict the future, but if she interpreted the facts correctly, at least she wouldn’t face those days alone.
Now, dressed in a fine linen night rail, the loveliest she possessed, with a clean silk wrapper on top, her hair unbound, she donned her slippers and left her bedchamber, intent on a reconnaissance mission of her own. The hallway was silent, the flickering lamplight the only glow, though she was fairly certain her anticipation shone from the inside out.
When she reached Matthew’s guest room she knocked twice and waited. He answered swiftly, almost as if he’d hoped she’d come. At least, that’s what she chose to believe. He was dressed in fresh clothes, his hair still damp from his bath, and while he wore no cravat and his shirtsleeves rolled up, his state of casual handsomeness caused her heart to race.
“Theodosia.” He said her name as if an endearment.
“I thought I’d show at your door for a change.”
He smiled with her reference to his visits at Mivart’s Hotel.
“Are you in pain?” His eyes dropped to her hip and up again. “Did a bath help? I have ginger salve.”
“I find this all an odd role reversal.” She couldn’t keep amusement from her voice.
“You look so tempting standing there in your nightclothes, as if you’ve just walked out of my dreams.”
“Thank you for your brave rescue.” She whispered the words, filled with awe and sincerity.
He leaned forward, and when she thought he might kiss her, he angled his head right and left to peer up and down the hall.
“It’s into the wee hours. What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Checking to see if Kirkman is about, at the ready to drop another proposal at your feet.”
She giggled at his feigned jealousy, the laughter bubbling up and out in a too loud shriek of happiness.
He didn’t say more, and reached out and hooked the belt of her wrapper to gently tug her forward into his rooms. She might have gasped, she couldn’t be sure, but when he reversed their position and backed her up to the door with the strength of his kiss, she went completely breathless anyway.
And heated.
Feverish, actually.
It was as though she’d been waiting, holding her breath, each beat of her heart counting the moments until she would return to his arms. Emotion, stronger than any physical desire, lodged in her chest beside the words she had longed to say ever since she left him in London. She loved him. She wanted to share her life with him. It didn’t matter where, just that they were together.
Tonight, she offered more than her heart.<
br />
Tonight, they sealed their promise to each other.
He worked the knot in her belt, quick to slip the fabric free, down her shoulders in a silky puddle at her feet.
He kissed her deeply, his tongue mating with hers in a prelude to what was to come. Her pulse hitched. She wanted to touch him everywhere. Be touched by him. He traced the ribbons at her neck where her night rail was fastened, each stroke against her skin more intriguing. Her thoughts splintered in a thousand directions while heat came in a rush of sensation to arrow straight to her core. She didn’t know what to expect, his kisses incendiary alone, but this—this contact was indescribable pleasure. Everywhere he touched, when he skimmed his fingertips over her shoulders, traced her spine or grazed her breast, the powerful awareness of his intimate caress reverberated to her soul.
She swallowed, at a loss for words, and placed her hand against his chest. He was all smooth muscle, his skin heated beneath her fingertips, and for the slightest moment before he moved, she felt the steady thrum of his heartbeat against his palm.
“Bookish . . .”
He murmured against her mouth and she wondered what could be so important he’d interrupt their kiss.
“You’ve never . . .” He nuzzled her neck, licked past her clavicle, his hot breath against her throat an erotic invitation.
“No.”
She felt his smile.
“But you want to . . .”
“Yes.” She couldn’t be more emphatic. “Stop talking already.”
And he did, sweeping her into his arms to carry her to the four-poster bed. He set her down on the mattress with deliberate grace and the room grew so quiet she could hear each one of their breaths.
She knew the intricacies of lovemaking. She understood the physiology of human copulation. What she hadn’t anticipated was her body’s reaction. The desire for sensual discovery. The need for more that became a force like she’d never known.
Without waiting, she lay back on the mattress and watched through lowered lids as Matthew undressed beside the bed. His muscles flexed and caught a sheen from the flames in the firebox. All the while it was she who felt afire. Burning from the inside out. Heated. Flushed. Anxious. A mixture of every emotion bombarded her with restless urgency.
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