Love and Larceny (11 page)

Daphne shook her head. “You’re in an odd
humor tonight. Perhaps we’ve stayed up too late. I’ll try to get
you back by a reasonable hour.”

“I’m no invalid,” he snapped.

“Well, certainly not.” She turned and raised
the candle high so they could both see their way. “But everyone
needs a good night sleep now and then. You can’t expect to be at
your best if your brain is muddled.”

“There isn’t anything wrong with my brain
either,” he said behind her. “What I seem to lack is
conviction.”

“About what?” she asked, remembering to lower
her voice. They were passing over her mother’s room, and she
doubted she could be convincing as a dream two nights in a row.
Then she felt Wynn’s hand on her shoulder, pulling her to a
stop.

“The only place I lack conviction is about
you, Daphne.”

Balancing carefully, she turned to face him.
“About me?”

In the candlelight, she could see that his
dark brows were down, those sea-green eyes intent on her face.
Indeed, every part of him seemed tense, as if he were about to jump
a fence or shoot a bow.

“Daphne,” he said, “there is so much I want
to tell you, but I know how difficult it can be for you to stand
still and listen. Perhaps it’s better if I show you.”

He pulled her close and kissed her.

Once again her world exploded, and she found
herself trembling with the sheer wonder of it. The sweet pressure
of his lips, his arm stealing about her waist, made her head spin
in the most delightful way. Was this how all young ladies felt when
they were in love?

Wait. She wasn’t in love. This was Wynn.

She broke from his embrace and shoved him
away from her. “What are you doing?!”

He teetered on the beam, off balance and
leaning hard on his bad leg. As she watched, horror dawning, he
toppled to one side and crashed through the plaster to disappear
into the darkness below.

A cloud of dust billowed up behind him,
choking her, but she managed to shield the candle. Waving the grit
aside, heart hammering, she peered down into the hole, afraid of
what she might find.

From the great bed below her, her mother and
Wynn gazed back, side by side, and it was a question who looked the
more shocked.

*

Wynn blinked past the dust sparkling in the
light from the candle Daphne held as she gazed through the ceiling
at him. His spectacles must have been knocked off in the fall, for
his vision was blurry, but it seemed to him her face was
stricken.

“Get back,” he warned. “I don’t want you
falling through too. Stay on the beam. You know the way back to
your room.”

She nodded. “Are you all right?”

He refused to acknowledge the pains shooting
through him until he was certain she was safe. “I’ll be fine. Now
go.”

Again she nodded, but she still didn’t move
away from the hole. “Mother?”

Mother?

Wynn’s head jerked to the right. He’d been so
rattled by the fall, so relieved to have landed on something soft,
that he hadn’t bothered to look around him. Now in the faint light
from Daphne’s candle, he saw Lady Rollings gazing back at him from
only a few feet away, white ribboned cap settled on her golden
hair.

“I’m only a little dusty,” she assured her
daughter. “Please do as Mr. Fairfax asks and come down before
something worse happens.”

At the moment, he could not think of much
worse than crashing through the ceiling and landing on the bed of
the mother who had all but demanded he leave her daughter alone.
But he was thankful Daphne disappeared at last.

So did the light, but only for a moment. He
heard the rustle of bedclothes and felt the bed shift as Lady
Rollings must have climbed out. Then the bedside lamp flared,
highlighting her aristocratic cheekbones, darkening her eyes.

Wynn tried to move, and pain lanced through
him.

“Be still, Mr. Fairfax,” she advised, lifting
the lamp. “You’ve had a nasty fall, and I suspect you are not
thinking clearly.”

That he could well believe. But what amazed
him was how clearly she seemed to be thinking.

“I’m terribly sorry, your ladyship,” he said
as she calmly moved to the bell pull and gave it a tug to summon a
staff member.

“For compromising my daughter, putting her in
a dangerous situation, or nearly landing on me?” she asked, going
to the wardrobe and pulling out her quilted satin dressing
gown.

Guilt poked at him. “All three. Though I
admit I didn’t understand the full danger of those passages until
tonight.”

“So you’ve used the passages more than once.”
She returned to his side, giving her sash an extra pull.

“Yes,” he admitted. “Daphne and I share a
love of adventure.”

“And a decided lack of common sense.” She
brushed debris off the bed, wrinkling her nose as if no more than
miffed at the mess. “Of my daughters, Mr. Fairfax, I worry about
Daphne the most.”

Wynn could not help his frown. “Why? She is
amazing.”

He thought he saw a smile tugging at that
stern mouth. “She is indeed. She never walked; she ran. She rode
her first pony at age four, began begging me to learn to fence at
age five. Where other young ladies had sore fingers from learning
to embroider, she had bruised knees from attempting to climb the
trees in the orchard. I used a store of bandages and ointment
raising her. With her capacity for love and loyalty, she has the
potential for a brilliant future, with the right fellow, a
gentleman who can appreciate her and harness her unique talents. I
am concerned you lack the strength of character.”

So was he at the moment.

The door flew open then, and Daphne rushed
in. “Is he all right?”

“That remains to be seen,” her mother said.
Then she nodded to the maid who had answered her ring and stood
wide-eyed in the doorway. “Alert Lord Brentfield that there has
been an accident. We will need a doctor, fresh linens, and a
carpenter, in that order.”

“Yes, your ladyship,” she said before
scurrying away.

Daphne approached the bed. “Oh, Wynn,” she
said, lower lip trembling. “Are you badly hurt?”

He tried to sit, ignoring the pricks and
aches that shouted for his attention. Out in the corridor, he
thought he heard other voices, as the remaining guests in the west
wing must have been roused from their sleep by the sound of his
fall.

Daphne hurried to help him, her hands gentle
on his shoulders. “No, no. Lay still until the doctor arrives.”

“I’m fine,” he assured her, but he had to
admit leaning back felt much better. “A few scrapes and bruises, I
imagine. But nothing seems to be broken.” He knew what broken felt
like.

“Thank the Lord for that,” Lady Rollings
said, joining them. “Daphne, help me clear off the rest of this.
Watch for nails and sharp edges.”

Was it because she had raised Daphne that she
remain so composed? His mother and sisters would have gone into
such hysterics the doctor would likely have had to treat them too.
And surely clearing the debris off him was the job for a
servant.

Yet Lady Rollings instructed Daphne on how to
remove the pieces of wood and plaster, saying nothing about their
midnight ramblings and glancing at him from time to time as if her
doubts about him had only grown. Daphne found his glasses among the
pile, twisted, but unbroken, a bit like him.

What a mess he’d made, all because he
couldn’t bring himself to say three little words.

I love you.

He was glad when Lord Brentfield, Mr. Harrop,
and a footman arrived to help. The butler eyed the hole in the
ceiling and shook his head as if dismayed by the damage. Then he
and Lord Brentfield exchanged glances, and the butler hurried out,
very likely to summon more aid.

Lord Brentfield strode to Wynn’s side.
“Couldn’t resist, could you?” he challenged as Lady Rollings and
Daphne lifted the counterpane away from Wynn.

“No, my lord,” Wynn said, face heating.

The earl leaned closer and offered him a
wink. “Neither could I when I first discovered those passages.
There’s something mysterious about them. And strolling through the
dark with a pretty girl is even better.”

It had been at that. But he could only wonder
the price he would have to pay, in Daphne’s respect for him and his
own health.

Daphne had no choice but to take her mother
and retreat from the room when the doctor, a local practitioner
named Praxton, arrived an hour later. The rest of the guests in the
west wing had been awakened by the noise, and Hannah had followed
her husband to check on everyone. She had gone with a maid to see
about another room for Lady Rollings. Daphne was merely glad the
gentlemen had been housed in the east wing, far enough away that
they had not been roused. At least, none came immediately demanding
to know what had happened. She didn’t want to know what Sinclair or
Sir James would say about her midnight wanderings with Wynn.

As it was, her sister and friends were all
crowding around the door along with Lady Minerva, who looked
particularly keen to be let inside. Daphne was ready to explain,
but her mother spoke first.

“It seems Mr. Fairfax felt it incumbent upon
himself to explore the secret passages that run through the house,”
she told them. “He took a fall, but we have every hope that his
injuries are minor.”

Daphne certainly hoped so. Seeing him lying
there so pale and stiff had made her ache inside, as if she were
the one who had smashed through the ceiling. She almost wished it
had been her. She could have faced her mother’s censure. And she
had no previous injury to aggravate. What if his leg had broken
again? What if this time he truly couldn’t walk?

A shiver went through her, and she wrapped
her arms about her waist.

“I say, what’s the trouble?” Brooks wandered
down the corridor. His blond hair remained perfectly combed about
his handsome face, and a scarlet dressing gown draped his broad
shoulders. Words dried up in her mouth.

“Merely an accident, Mr. Sheridan,” her
mother said, drawing her dressing gown closer even as she stepped
in front of Daphne’s sister and friends, who were wearing their
nightgowns. “I’m sure you will be apprised of all come
morning.”

It was a clear dismissal. No one Daphne had
ever known would have argued with her mother, with the exception of
Ariadne, of course. But Brooks ventured closer, golden brows knit.
“An accident, madam? Perhaps I might be of assistance.”

Emily darted around Daphne’s mother to
confront him. “You certainly can. Please explain why you of all our
gentlemen was the only one to hear the commotion.”

Brooks smiled. “Light sleeper, I expect.”

“Something preying on your mind?” Lady
Minerva asked.

He took a step closer to Daphne and smiled
that charming smile that made his teeth sparkle in the candlelight.
“Such a wonderful evening, I suspect, with the most delightful lady
of my acquaintance.”

Something fluttered through her. Was that
what people meant when they claimed they had butterflies?

“Nicely said,” Priscilla put in with a look
to Emily, which she ignored.

“He could have used more alliteration,”
Ariadne muttered with a shake of her head. “Perhaps compare her to
the moon or a toadstool ring.”

“Girls.” Lady Rollings stepped in front of
Emily and turned her sternest look on Brooks. “Suffice it to say
that there is no need for concern, Mr. Sheridan. Good night.”

He hesitated only a moment longer.
Impressive. No one challenged her mother to that extent. Then he
offered her a bow. “Good night, Lady Rollings. Good night,
Daphne.”

He turned and strolled back down the corridor
as if nothing untoward had happened.

“
Daphne
?” Ariadne murmured to her
sister. “Well done, you.”

Her mother frowned after him.

Hannah appeared then and offered to lead Lady
Rollings to her new room. Lady Minerva stepped closer to the door
as if refusing to budge so much as an inch.

Daphne’s mother affixed the girls with a look
nearly as stern as the one she’d offered Mr. Sheridan. “Time to
turn in, girls.”

Emily’s look turned mutinous. Daphne stepped
between them. “I’ll see that they all retire, Mother. It’s the
least I can do.”

Her mother regarded her a moment, then
inclined her head. “Very well. I will see you all in the morning.”
She turned to glide off with Hannah. Lady Minerva opened the door
to Wynn’s room and slipped inside. Daphne thought about going after
her, but she was certain someone older and more convincing would
soon eject her.

“You wouldn’t dare order us to bed,”
Priscilla told Daphne.

Daphne shook her head. “Of course I wouldn’t.
What I told Mother was the only way to satisfy her. Let’s adjourn
to Ariadne’s room and have a good coz.”

They all agreed to that. A few minutes later,
draped upon the great blue bed in her sister’s room, they eyed one
another expectantly.

“I cannot like the fact that Mr. Fairfax
chose to go into the passages alone,” Emily said, arranging her
purple flannel nightgown around her where she sat at the foot of
the bed. “It simply wasn’t safe. What if he had encountered the
thief?”

“Terribly short-sighted,” Ariadne agreed,
leaning back against the pillow she’d propped between her and the
carved walnut headboard. “I expect more of a hero.”

A hero. How odd her sister used that word for
Wynn. Yet his actions tonight had been noble, his concern all for
Daphne when he had been the one injured.

“He could have invited the rest of us along
if he thought them to be safe,” Emily said. “I’ve been itching for
another chance at those passages, but I wasn’t sure which openings
were accessible.”

“At the very least I would have expected him
to take Daphne with him,” Priscilla added, narrowing her green eyes
as she sat regally alongside Daphne in her frilly white
nightgown.