Authors: Emma Wildes
Tags: #Romance, #General, #Contemporary, #Historical, #Fiction
Twice Fallen (4 page)
And it was. More was the pity, for Damien wouldn’t mind a very
less than innocent
interlude with the appealing Lady Lillian.
It startled him, for he was usually quite careful in his relationships with the fairer sex. Not that he didn’t enjoy women—he certainly did—but he had taken care never to become involved on an emotional level, for in his particular profession, it simply wasn’t wise. Marriageable ingenues normally did not interest him.
“Innocent?” She stood and decisively set aside her glass on a nearby table. “That is the problem, my lord. I am no longer considered innocent in any situation. Now, will you help me out the window?”
E
For Lady Lillian, she wanted a suitor who would complement her independent personality, not a foppish fool.
It wasn’t going to be simple. She had no illusions there, especially if the girl kept disappearing. Though she’d come to admire the young woman’s individual spirit, Eugenia found it a blasted nuisance when it came to trying to marry her off.
For instance, where was she now? Not among the whirling dancers. Lily was noticeable enough, especially this evening in her rose gown that, if she did think so in a rather smug way, Eugenia was quite willing to take the credit for as she’d selected both the color and style. The material was the perfect foil for Lily’s pale skin and
gleaming brown hair, and as her charge was not exactly right out of the schoolroom, the neckline was just a subtle bit more daring than Eugenia would normally have chosen, but it was a calculated maneuver.
That had
worked
. Many a gentleman had noticed Lily as they’d arrived and been announced, which made her sudden absence all the more alarming.
As of right now, her charge’s alluring appearance and significant dowry were making the venture of possibly gaining her an aristocratic husband a success, but another scandalous lapse would hardly be helpful. Lillian’s favorite friend was the extraordinarily unfashionable Miss Vivian Lacrosse. Maybe she would know where the girl had gone off to this time. Eugenia had not said anything about Lily’s choice in friends, for truly, she did realize that a good friendship was important, and though it was entirely
outré
for any female to dabble in botany of all things as Vivian did, she supposed there could be worse choices. Dirt, plants… Eugenia had no taste for it, but certainly most of the beau monde indulged in much less wholesome activities than growing a flower or two. Still, the unusual hobby had not done the girl any favors socially.
Drawing herself up to her full height, conscious that if at the moment she seemed unsettled others might take notice of her distress and wonder why, Eugenia made her way over to where Vivian sat with a small group of other young women. Lady Juliet Stather, she noted, was among them, a blond beauty who could be the reigning belle of London society but tended to seclude herself with the least popular set.
Do these young ladies not realize the advantages of a fashionable marriage
?
“Miss Lacrosse?”
“Your Grace.” Vivian jumped to her feet and made a not-so-graceful curtsy. Apparently plants were much more her forte than the social graces. Still, Eugenia noted, she was attractive in an understated way, with her dark hair and green eyes.
Perhaps a later project… She had to be at least as old as Lillian.
…
What a challenge to find a man who wanted a spinster interested in reseeding gardens or whatever it might be.
…
But for now, Lily.
Right
. She needed to find out where she’d gone. One challenge at a time.
“When did you last see Lady Lillian?” Eugenia’s voice was low and crisp and her spine was ramrod straight. That demeanor had a predictable effect on people.
“Oh.” Miss Lacrosse prevaricated, and not very successfully, as she’d taken on a bright color over being confronted. She and Lady Juliet exchanged a quick glance. “I’m… not sure.”
Her dress too, is frumpish, though really, with a real maid to do her hair she could be a beauty.… Look at those remarkable eyes, green and gold.…
Eugenia said more sharply than she intended, “All you need tell me, child, is when she left the ballroom.”
“I’m not really a child any longer,” Miss Lacrosse muttered. “Ask anyone.”
“She isn’t,” Lady Juliet added helpfully. “We are the same age.”
Why on earth isn’t the beauteous Juliet married?… Oh, never mind, that is hardly the issue.…
“You are trying to distract me with details.” The observation
was curt and straightforward. Eugenia asked succinctly, “Where did Lillian go?”
“She didn’t say,” Vivian offered, her voice hushed.
“Ah, so now we are getting somewhere. You
did
see her leave.”
“Your Grace, she just excused herself. I did not inquire where she was going.”
“However, if you had to guess as to what is keeping her for so long?”
In the face of a very direct, stern stare, Miss Lacrosse’s resolve to keep her friend’s secret crumpled. “The library.”
“That would be my guess also,” Lady Juliet murmured.
Fate was truly conspiring against her.
In the end, the window did not prove an option. The frame was either swollen from the moisture, or the lock on it rusted shut, but it would not budge. Lord Damien did his best, but it was clear that it was as immovable as the broken lock.
“Your friend needs to maintain his home a bit better,” she muttered, the case clock in the corner making an ominous tick as the minutes went by.
“I could break the glass.” Damien Northfield sounded unruffled by their predicament. “But that solution is a bit noisy, I’m afraid. It could be no one would hear it, but it could also cause a passing servant or guest to raise an alarm, thereby not helping our desire for discretion. The way it is raining, it would also no doubt cause some damage to the contents of the room.”
He was irritatingly right. And he didn’t need to point
out that a connection might easily be made between the broken window and her sodden reappearance at the ball. Her story of needing a breath of fresh air and getting caught in the rain would become suspect at once.
“Of course, we have our other choice.”
The secret passage. So now she was reduced to scrambling about in dank, hidden hallways? She wasn’t at all sure she could. When she’d told him she disliked dark enclosed places, she had been hedging. They
terrified
her for some inexplicable reason. When she’d accidentally gotten locked in an armoire during a game of hide-and-seek as a child, her screams had brought the entire household running.
Lord Damien waited, his expression inscrutable, but then again, she thought crossly, the man had not denied being a spy. Finally, she nodded. “I suppose we have to get out somehow. The most important thing is that I am not discovered locked in here with you.”
His smile was ironic. “How flattering.”
“I didn’t intend to give offense.” Her voice was stiff. She couldn’t help it. “It isn’t personal. I would not want to be discovered locked in with any gentleman.”
His gaze was searching. “So I gather.” Then he turned and limped over to the fireplace, running his hand over the wall.
To Lillian’s amazement the panel of the hidden passage slid back without a sound under the pressure of Damien’s long fingers, though the doorway it revealed was obviously old and the hinges creaked in a screech that made her jump when he pulled it open. Hopefully no one else heard it.
“My advice is to take off your dress.”
She blinked at the ludicrous suggestion. “I beg your pardon?”
Is he completely mad?
He was already shrugging out of his jacket. “I can cover my shirt with my coat if it gets dusty, and let me assure you, it will. You could do the same. Carry your dress and put it back on when we get to the end. Your undergarments will suffer, and you might have to concoct a story for your maid, but otherwise no one will be able to tell.”
It took a moment before she sputtered, “I… I cannot undress in front of you.”
His smile was just a faint curve of his lips as he tugged at his perfectly tied cravat. “I assure you I will not be shocked, my lady.”
Somehow she doubted anything shocked Damien Northfield. No doubt, with his good looks, he’d seen an undressed lady or two. She was not an ingenue any longer and understood that gentlemen were very rarely inexperienced by the time they were his age, but still, his suggestion was out of the question. “I am hardly concerned with your sensibilities. It just isn’t… proper.”
“I think you should choose between propriety and practicality at this point.” He folded the length of his white cravat carefully inside his coat. “I can keep a secret. My Lord Wellington would attest to that. And though as lovely as you are, Lady Lillian, I promise I do not wish to ravish you among cobwebs and unlit, filthy corridors, but you are welcome to decide as you see fit. Stay here and risk discovery, or come along.”
Did he have any idea that her gown was the least of her concerns at the moment? It was true, the door he’d
opened was festooned with cobwebs, but mostly it was dark and there were stairs that led straight downward.
Into blackness.
Her chest tightened.
She was, in a word,
terrified
.
Had it not been for her tarnished past, she would have never considered it. She still wasn’t sure she
was
considering it, but at that moment someone knocked smartly on the door.
Whatever happened, she did not want to be found locked in the library. If Lord Damien went down the passage alone, she’d still have to explain why she would ever lock the door in the first place, and though maybe later she could come up with something clever, at the moment she could think of nothing plausible. On the other hand, his solution
could
work.
There was a second knock, louder than the first, and the handle rattled.
“Quick,” she whispered, whirling to present her back. “Help me.”
She actually thought he might have let out a small muffled laugh, but with dexterous ease he undid her gown and she stepped out of it, wondering if she’d completely lost her senses. Clad only in her chemise, stockings, and slippers and gathering the material of her gown into a bundle, she was relieved to see he wasn’t staring at her now half-clad body, but had taken the small lamp from the table, moving so silently despite his disability she suddenly believed all the stories about his service to the Crown.
To her surprise he extended his folded jacket and she
took it in a reflexive response and then he offered his hand.
There was no time for debate on the matter.
She placed her fingers in his and she could swear she caught the glimmer of a smile; then he led her into the passageway, pulled the panel closed, and eased the door shut with only the slightest groan of the hinges.
Well done.
Only it was worse than she’d imagined, the ceiling low, the walls smelling bitter with age, but at least the clasp of his hand was strong and warm and the light flickering as he held it in front of him was better than complete darkness. Lily took in a shuddering breath and contemplated closing her eyes, then decided it would not lessen the terror but increase it. Plus the narrow steps were treacherously steep, so she concentrated on his broad back and followed him down the stairs. He’d been right about the dirt and dust; it was everywhere. And she kept the fabric of her dress and his folded jacket clutched close to her body, for if she was willing to do this, she wanted it to be worth the effort.
Close walls, the musty odor, the darkness
…
“It will take them a while to get into the library,” Lord Damien commented, his voice echoing a little. “By then we will have rejoined the party.”
“I’m still not sure how we’ll explain the cobwebs in our hair,” Lily said in a small voice, but hopefully he was right and as he was a good deal taller and in front, he was getting the worst of it anyway. She was reluctant to admit it, but he’d been right about removing her dress, for she could see even in the flickering light held in front of him
as they descended that his white shirt was already smudged, his shoulders so wide they brushed the walls, though even with his pronounced limp he moved with what seemed like effortless ease.
He still held her hand and his fingers tightened a little. “Are you frightened?”
It wasn’t precisely fright, more like panic, but oddly enough his presence seemed to quell her usual reaction when faced with an enclosed space. Maybe it was his air of quiet competence, as if no situation daunted him.
“I’m trying not to think about it, my lord.”
“That usually works best. I tend to picture myself on our family estate in Essex when faced with an environment like this. Rolthven has a spacious park, and the river where I swam as a boy is wide and slow.”
“It bothers you as well?” She couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice.
“I’ve have myriad experiences with closed spaces and none of them were enjoyable.” His tone held a sardonic edge that even in the distraction of her predicament and the close confines of the narrow way she registered.
“In the war?”
“My apologies, but I don’t answer questions like that, Lady Lillian. The past does not matter.”
It
did
matter, she almost pointed out in the most acerbic manner possible. If it didn’t, she would not now be in this dank passage, winding down a dark stair to the cellars, only half-dressed and hand in hand with a man she’d just met. Male privilege might make it easier to ignore, but the past
mattered
, especially if it involved one very drastic mistake.
