Secrets and Sensibilities: A Regency Romance Mystery (The Lady Emily Capers Book 1) (11 page)

David had never felt less like a gentleman as he wandered
through the secret passage that night. Oh, he was still dressed in the clothes
her ladyship had picked out for him when he had first arrived at Brentfield,
but he had never believed that clothes made the man. No, it was his motives
that made him feel like the selfish aristocrat he feared he was becoming.

He had spent the better part of a half hour after retiring
arguing with himself, and for a person who prided himself on decisive action,
that was considerable time indeed. Nothing he could say, no logic he could
bring to bear, no moral lesson he could recite had been able to deter him from
having his way. So now here he was, shouting his conscience into silence and
doing as his heart bade him.

It was folly to seek her out like this, he knew as he carefully
skirted a damaged portion of the passage. In the first place, no sincere man
would take advantage of such a passage to reach his lady love unseen. In the
second place, if they were caught, her reputation would be ruined. But he
hadn’t had a moment to speak to her today that wasn’t surrounded by prying
eyes. Besides, he itched to show her what he had discovered on his explorations
of the night before when too he had been unable to sleep.

Ignoring the twinge of guilt, he held the candle high and
hurried down the descending stair of the west wing, approaching the panel that
opened to her room. There was a removable knothole, he knew, that would allow
him to peer into the room before entering, but the idea of using it made him
feel as if he were invading her privacy. Instead, he put his ear to the panel
and listened intently for several minutes, just to be sure she was awake,
alone, and properly gowned.

He thought for a moment she had company, for he could hear
her talking. When no one answered, he realized she was talking to herself. No,
talking was too mild a word for it. She was giving herself a downright scold.

“And what did you prove?” he heard her demand. “What
difference did wearing that dress and jewels make? You’re still a nobody,
Hannah Alexander. You can’t play, you can’t sing. Who wants a countess who
paints? You can put on all the airs you like, but that isn’t going to change
the fact that you will never be his equal.”

“Rubbish,” David said aloud without thinking. On the other
side of the wall, she gasped, and he cursed his ready tongue.

“Hannah,” he murmured through the panel, “it’s me, David.
I’m sorry I frightened you. I had to see you. May I come in?”

She slid the panel away herself and stood facing him, hands
on hips, cheeks blazing with obvious embarrassment. “How long have you been
eavesdropping?”

“Only a moment,” he assured her, stepping down into the room
beside her. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that she had
changed for bed. The shapeless blue flannel gown she wore hung heavy about her,
obscuring her figure. As she turned away from him to close the panel, he saw
that her hair was unbound and flowing down her back like a river of molten
chocolate. It was longer than he had thought, nearly reaching her knees, and it
outlined her curves more effectively than the gown had done. He caught himself
imagining what she would look like wearing nothing but the silken mass. It was
then he realized that this visit was a serious mistake.

It was too late to escape, however, as she turned to him,
lips compressed. “You should not have used that passage,” she scolded him, but
he got the impression that she was still more angry with herself than with him.
“This is unseemly. Do you know what will happen if we’re caught? Do you want to
be forced to marry me?”

The idea had never seemed more delightful, but somehow he
didn’t think that would reassure her. “No one is going to force anyone to do
anything. This was too important to leave to a chance meeting and from the
sound of it, you won’t be available tomorrow. Besides, I wanted to make sure
you had recovered from your fright this morning. You gave me a bad moment there
in the library.”

“
I
gave
you
a bad moment?” she demanded. “I’m
not the one who was nearly crushed to death. And what was so important that you
could not wait until daylight?”

“I found another passage.”

She perked up, as he had hoped she would. “Really? Did you
see where it leads?”

“I followed it far enough to know it goes quite a ways. I
was hoping I could convince you to join me in exploring it.”

“Now?” she replied, spreading her skirts. “In my
nightclothes?” She seemed to suddenly realize that she was indeed in her
nightclothes, for she hurried to draw the coverlet from the bed and drape it
about her. In scant seconds, all he could see of her was the oval of her face,
which was turning a becoming shade of red.

“Put on your wrapper,” he said with a laugh. “Better yet,
put on a cloak. I think the passage may lead outside.”

She still looked skeptical. He put on his most pleading
expression. “Please, Hannah? If I’m right, and this leads to old Lord
Brentfield’s art treasures, I’ll need you to help me identify them.”

She scowled at him from her mound of wrapping then gave a
mountainous movement that was probably a shrug. “Oh, very well. I must be crazy
to humor you.”

“No, just sensible,” he replied thankfully as she waddled to
the wardrobe to dig out her cloak. “Asheram says there’s no arguing with me
when I make up my mind.”

“That’s true enough,” she agreed, throwing off the covers
and masking herself in a voluminous brown cloak instead. He helped himself to a
candle from her bedside table and lit the taper from his own.

Returning to his side, she asked, “And about Asheram, why do
Lady Brentfield and the servants call him Mr. Haversham?”

“Her ladyship started calling him that and many of the other
servants followed suit. I think he’s given up correcting them. But his name is
Honorius Asheram, and he’s a descendant of the King of Ethiopia.”

“Really?” she asked breathlessly as he opened the panel.

“So he tells me,” he assured her, handing her the candle and
helping her over the sill. He put a finger to his lips, mindful of the room on
the other side of the passage, where he could only hope Lady Emily lay
sleeping. Then he held up the candle to light the way forward.

As they climbed to the main passage and followed it to the
intersection at the wing’s corner, he couldn’t help thinking that she had been
a good sport to let him appropriate her like this. All the more reason for him
to remember to behave. Still, he couldn’t seem to keep from teasing her.

“Remember what I told you?” he asked, deeming it safe to
talk at last. “Which of these passages leads to my room?”

“That one,” she replied, pointing to the correct passage.
“But you needn’t look so pleased, as I have no intention of acting on that
knowledge.”

He grinned. “You never know.”

She put her head up higher, and he set off down the north
passage before she could argue with him.

“You may also remember that I found the original passage
because the portions of the room didn’t look right,” he explained as they moved
through the darkness. “I’ve wondered the same thing about the servant stairs. I
checked it again last night and found another gallery leading off and sloping
downward.”

“Down?” she murmured, clearly curious. “But if it joins the
servant stairs at the ground level, down could only mean . . .”

“Underground,” he agreed. “Exactly my thought. I’m guessing
there’s a room under the central court yard, between the two wings.”

They soon found he was right. The tunnel was well braced and
wide enough for the two of them to walk side by side. While it was a little
dusty, there was no sign of debris or decay. It crossed about half the distance
between the west and east wings. The tunnel ended at a wide, bronze-studded
oak-plank door. It had an old-fashioned iron latch and a very large iron
padlock.

“Well, how do you like that?” David declared. “We come all
this way only to be defeated.”

Hannah was studying the lock. “This is new,” she murmured.
“It seems cleaner than the rest, and it’s been oiled.”

“Are you saying someone put it there recently?” David asked,
lowering the candle and peering closer.

“Perhaps not as recently as in the last day or so but
certainly within the last year. I think, my lord, that you may indeed have
found the location of the missing treasures. I cannot understand why the former
Lord Brentfield would want to hide them away like this, but I think you should
discover what lies behind that door.”

He nodded, straightening. “You can believe that I will.” He
winked at her. “Stay here with me tomorrow, and we’ll both find out together.”

“I wish I could,” she said with a sigh of genuine regret, he
thought. “But Lady Brentfield will surely need my help. Believe me, I take no
great pleasure in watching other people shop.”

“You won’t have to worry,” David assured her, giving the
lock a tug just in case. It did not so much as squeak. “Ash has been sending to
Wells for anything we need. He tells me there are no shops in Wenwood.”

“Does Lady Brentfield know that?” Hannah asked, clearly
puzzled. “The girls are quickly becoming bored. I thought she was trying to
divert them. Perhaps we should warn her ladyship that this shopping trip is
doomed to failure.”

“She must know Wenwood,” he replied, more interested in how
he might break the lock than in her ladyship’s entertainments. “She’s spent
every summer in this house for the last five years, or so she claims.” He shook
his head. “Well, it’s clear we’ll get no farther tonight.” He offered Hannah a
bow. “Thank you for letting me waste your time, my dear Hannah. May I have the
honor of escorting you home?”

She raised her eyebrows haughtily, but spoiled the effect
with a giggle. “La, sir, you are too forward. Simply call my carriage, and I
shall be off.”

“Ah, but I insist,” he chuckled, holding out his arm.

“Then I must comply,” she replied, giving him her hand.

She strolled down the passage at his side as if they were
walking through the countryside on a brilliant spring day. David watched her
profile from the corner of his eye. She was a quiet little thing, but game for
adventure and not above a good tease herself. They fit together, like the
well-worn strips of leather on an old harness, soft, supple, dependable. He
found he would very much like that kind of dependence.

“Are you intent on being a painter then?” he asked casually,
hoping she would not guess the reason for his questioning.

She started. “It has always been my dream.” Her answer was
as cautious as his question.

“You will not miss having a husband, children?” He wondered
whether his questions would be seen as too forward, but he had to know.

She hung her head. “I fear I am not overly good with
children, my lord. I wondered about that before I started teaching, but my current
profession has only proven the fact.”

He wanted to disagree with her, seeing how the girls had
come to rely on her. But he sensed she was not in a mood to hear an argument.
“Then painting will be your life. Will that be enough to fulfill you?”

“In truth, I had once hoped to have both a husband and my
painting,” she replied sadly, “but time has shown that most likely painting is
the more appropriate course. That thought has not been overly troubling.”

He waited for her to add ‘until recently,’ but she did not.
Yet he seemed to hear it nonetheless. It was presumptuous of him to think that
three days in his company would have changed all her dreams. He wanted to
question her further, but they reached the servant stairs, and conversation
became more difficult and more dangerous.

All too soon for David, they reached the crossroads.
Although they could now speak with impunity, they also had reached the point to
part.

Hannah dropped a curtsey. “I’ll go from here, my lord. Thank
you again for a memorable evening.”

“You’re welcome.” Suddenly, he found the thought of leaving
her untenable. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

She smiled. “I’ll be fine. I’m sorry I was so missish this
morning. It’s just that I realized how close you had come to getting killed.”

“All in the line of duty,” he joked. “Though any danger
would be worth it to hear you call me David again.”

“Don’t,” she murmured, reaching out to take his free hand.
“If anything had happened to you, if I had lost you . . .” she broke off,
snatching back her hand as if she realized she had said too much.

“Then you do care!” He wanted to crow his relief.

“What I feel is not important,” she insisted, chin rising.
“You mustn’t refine on it. When you enter Society, you’ll find you have a host
of choices, my lord. Any one of them will be better for you than I am.”

“Rubbish,” he replied. “I’ve had choices since I was
fifteen. It didn’t get me married, now did it? I’ve said it before, and I’ll
say it again. When I marry it will be because I’m in love, not because I need
money or an aristocratic wife.”

She smiled sadly. “You’re still thinking like David Tenant,
not the Earl of Brentfield. You have an obligation to this estate, to the
people on it. There are expectations about whom you can marry. An impoverished
art teacher, or even a gifted painter, is not on the list.”

“Hang their expectations,” David snapped. “And hang their
list. They can dress me in fancy clothes, they can make me study papers until
my eyes cross, they can even get me to hold a house party for girls fresh from
the schoolroom. The woman I marry will be my own choice. And I choose you.”

She gasped, and the candle shook in her grip. David took it
away from her, blowing it out. A moment more and he had extinguished his own as
well, laying them against a beam in the utter darkness that followed.