“Perhaps,” she retorted, her green eyes sparkling with laughter.
He was captive. “I would like to hold you. May I?” Max took Shep from her arms and placed him next to her feet. Shep arched his back, then pushed forward into a stretch and whimpered softly before curling up on her slippers. The dog’s small cry reminded him that his injuries were almost as bad as Meg’s, and Max momentarily felt bad about displacing him.
Meg looked up at him with a worried expression. At a loss for words, he pulled her closer and lifted her chin. “You are a beautiful woman, Meg. There is something I want, and I cannot seem to help myself. I want to kiss you.” His thumb drew small circles on her skin. “Mere minutes are too long to wait to taste your lips.” He lowered his lips to hers, softly at first. A soft groan of pleasure escaped her, and he pressed harder, pulling her closer to him. He needed this. It had become too difficult to see her and not touch her. He had missed this. He had missed her in his life. As he nudged her lips open gently with his tongue, she agreed, and her tongue met his. Max lost track of how long he kissed her. Breathless, he pulled back and gently leaned into her neck, skimming it and planting small kisses along the side. Her lilac scent tempted him beyond reason, and he hungrily nibbled the lobes of her ears before he reclaimed her lips and murmured inaudibly as she moved her fingers through his hair.
“Mmm…I am warming up again.” Maggie lifted her head, giving Max more of her neck to kiss.
He needed no further invitation, moving his lips softly over her skin.
She tried to step away, grabbing her arms about her. “I am sorry, Max. I should not have allowed this. Forgive me, but we cannot be doing this.”
“No. It is I who needs to apologize. I lost my senses, but I confess, I enjoyed every minute.” He tried to shake the delicious fog from his own head and gave a small nod to her dog. “Shep seems to have found something that intrigues him.” The dog was sniffing and moving toward the wall that held her father’s secret panel. Growling, he began to dig furiously and soon freed a piece of fabric caught under the bookcase.
The dog dropped a piece of black and navy plaid wool at her feet. Maggie reached down and picked it up. A look of horror flashed across her face. “I recognize this—Slade was wearing a coat made of this wool that dreadful night.” She looked up at Max. “And that morning when I saw him staring up at the house, he was wearing it then too.”
Chapter 9
“Whoever was wearing this was here recently. There is slight dampness to it, a telltale sign it has been out in the elements.”
“You mean Slade could still be here?” Blood drained from her face.
Max reached out and stroked her cheek. “Let us concentrate on what we are here to do. We should focus on that last day with your father. Can you recall how your father opened the panel?” He looked at the dark piece of wool he held, turning it over in his hands.
“I do.” She hesitated but moved in front of him to the shelf. Scanning the books, she noticed most of her father’s Shakespeare volumes were missing. Quelling the panic in her throat, Maggie glanced to the corner of the room and saw them laying in a heap with the other books Slade had tossed to the floor. The realization that Slade had been so close to finding father’s box sent a chill down her back.
She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer as she tapped on the center of the panel, just as her father had done. “I hope I am hitting the right—” She could not finish her sentence before the panel opened, disclosing a lockbox shaped and painted like three Shakespeare books. “It is still here.” She whispered with relief. Carefully, she lifted the box out and held it close to her chest. Everything you need is in the box, she remembered her father saying.
“That is a very unusual box. May I?” His eyes met hers.
She nodded.
Max reached for the box and turned it over, scrutinizing each side. “Masterfully done. How strange!”
“Yes, my mother had it made for him as a gift.” Maggie’s eyes welled with tears, and she blinked them away.
“Will this be the first time you have seen inside the box?”
“Yes, it will. Father barely finished telling me about it before he and Mother left for town. I saw him toss the key in here...” She walked to the desk, opened the drawer, and reached inside for the key. Gone. Again. “Father’s key is missing.” Maggie hesitated. “Wait, I think he hit a button,” she said as she continued to feel inside the drawer. “Ah…here it is.” She pressed what she hoped was the opening switch for the hidden back drawer panel. The wooden section opened, and several keys popped forth. Maggie picked them up. “How odd—there was only one key when Father dropped it into the drawer…” Her voice trailed off.
“As tossed as this room is, I am startled that the drawers are intact,” he said with astonishment. “Do you know which it is? All must hold some importance.”
She started to answer, but loud scrapping sounded from the safe room behind the wall. A creak sounded from the floor in the safe room, and she jumped, fear clutching at her heart. Shep kept to himself in the corner near the strewn books. Thankfully, he remained quiet, almost as if he understood something.
Max laid a warm hand on her trembling shoulder, calming her. At least she could think again. She gave him a tentative smile and held a finger to her lips, then pointed to the panel and gently tapped on it again. The now empty alcove that once held her father’s unique box quietly opened again. She pointed to a small hole in the wall that had a narrow eyepiece attached.
Max nodded and slowly raised an eyebrow, gesturing her to keep silent. Then he motioned her to look.
She leaned into the small eyepiece and looked around the room she had spent so much time in recently. It appeared very different. A small chair, table, and her mother’s tea service lined the back wall. Those had not been there before. A stack of the blankets and pillows she and Shep had used when they slept there stood in the corner.
Trying to maintain her composure, she nodded in Max’s direction and stepped back so he could look.
When he eased into his place in front of her, she caught the scent of bayberry and her toes curled with longing. For a moment, she could only think of Max. Wanting him. A shot of sudden heat soared through her body, pooling its warmth in her center. She coveted a sliver of time to relish in the sensual feeling of it all but knew any thoughts in that direction were wasted. They had missed their chance at happiness together three years past—even if neither was at fault. Still, she could not ignore her body or her heart’s desire. With his every touch and his very nearness, he roused her senses. She wanted to close her eyes and inhale him.
The sound of her name being called jolted her from her trance.
“Did you hear that?” she whispered, uneasiness creeping into her voice.
“What?” Max replied over his shoulder, still looking through the eyepiece. “This is a very unusual setup for a safe room, I should think. I expected blankets and crates of food. This looks more like a small parlor.”
“D-did you hear that? S-someone called my name,” she stammered, uncertainty and fear waging war on her confidence. Maggie drew back and surveyed the room. Nothing made sense. Was that her mother’s voice? Her heart and soul craved to hear it again. She thought back on Lady Worsley’s comments on the drive to the house. Could she have been right? Could her mother have stayed behind as a ghost? The thought both comforted and unnerved her. Maggie gripped Max’s arm. “I am frightened.”
* * *
Max carefully laid the lockbox on a shelf and enveloped her in his arms. His reaction was more of an impulse than anything else. This was not becoming a good habit. She was frightened, but had it been her mother’s voice? His mother had gone to great lengths on the way over to detail her beliefs on the subject—which he had wished she had kept to herself.
Her hair smelled of lilacs and reminded him of days they had picnicked in the warm sunshine. There had been so much laughter and joy. He wanted that joy back in his life. I cannot
allow myself to fall for Meg. Who am I kidding? I already have fallen for her…again. Feeling the need to breathe her into his very being, he pulled her closer. The familiar feel of her made his arms ache.
He wanted to keep holding her, but there were more sounds from the room next to them. An intruder? Surely no one had followed them. Where were Nizal’s men? They would have seen anyone outside. If this was her mother’s ghost, it would not be so obvious. Would it? He knew nothing about ghosts. He had thought it a topic he could live in ignorance of, but it seemed not.
“I hear movement, and we both looked in there. I saw nothing. Did you?” His fingers drew soothing circles about her shoulders.
“No. I saw nothing moving. But the room looked different…almost lived in.”
“What do you mean lived in?” A shiver of awareness ran over him. She had stayed in this house alone, with only her dog. Or at least he had thought them alone.
“There were only pillows and blankets in the room when Shep and I stayed there. Now Mother’s chair, a table, and a tea set occupies the space.”
“Yes. Odd that.” He gently touched her cheek. “Do you think the pot is warm? I should like a cup of tea. Perhaps if it is your mother’s ghost, surely she would be friendly.” A smile tugged at his lips.
She pulled back and playfully slapped the air in his direction. “Be serious, Max,” she whispered. “First the piece of wool that belonged to Slade, now there is tea?”
“If your mother’s ghost is here, it was most likely here before and did not alarm you. I prefer to think she is here to help. What are we not seeing that we should see—besides her ghost?” He peered back into the room. “A stack of books is in the chair.” He looked into the corner next to where Shep was sleeping and heard his heart beating loudly in his ears. How is it I am standing here quietly when I want to run from here? Her mother’s ghost must be real. “The Shakespeare books disappeared from the pile. Now they are in the safe room. It is as if someone is trying to tell us something.” He swallowed hard. This would be exactly how he would have thought if he were on assignment. “We should keep our wits about us. There will be an explanation. We just have to find it.”
“Let me see.” Her voice had a tremor. Maggie stepped in front of Max and peered into the room. “We still have not opened the box.”
Maggie handed him the box and withdrew the keys she had been holding. “The rose key should open it.” She handed the keys to him and watched while he made short work of the lock. “Mother’s favorite flower was roses.”
The box opened easily, and several of its papers spilled out. “This looks like he filled it to capacity.” He felt around and pulled up a blue velvet bag of money. “Perhaps this is the golden egg that Slade was seeking.” He did not know how much was in there, but it felt heavy.
“Perhaps. But he seemed like he was searching for more than money. I guess it could be money, but I think he is seeking more. I am curious about these papers. Father mentioned his will and a deed. But this seems to be much more than that.”
“Here. Put this away. I am sure that your father would want you to have it.” Max handed her the velvet bag, and she tucked it into her reticule. “This appears to be his will. And here is the deed to the house.” He held the second document and shook it open. “It is as your father told you. Your grandmother bequeathed it to your mother, then to you. You own this house.” He read further. “Wait. Here is something revealing. If you died without issue, the house would pass to the nearest living relative…would that be your uncle?” Max folded it without comment and opened a third document, a weathered, folded parchment. “I need more light.” He walked to the window with the document. “This appears to be a birth certificate. The ink looks very faded. I think we can read it, but it begs that we have a better surface with good light. With your permission, I would like to remove these documents to my estate where we can look through all of this more carefully. I can place them in the safe for you while we get all of this sorted.”
“Yes. That is probably clever. I cannot believe Father’s papers are safe here.” Her voice quaked. “That is truly a birth certificate?” She shook her head slightly. “I cannot imagine who it could be. Family births are all recorded in our Bible.” She walked to the end shelf and retrieved the Bible. “I’d best take this.”
They heard Lady Worsley and Nizal’s voices coming down the hall, growing louder. “I should put this back.” She pointed at the secret shelf.
“Yes, you are right. It may behoove us to keep some secrets secret.” He winked and helped her put the shelf in order.
Maggie quickly closed up the shelf, and the two of them moved quickly to the desk. Max kept the box tucked under his arm.
“Before they arrive, let me apologize for making light earlier. I was only trying to change the mood for you, Meg.” And now I know your mother’s ghost is here with us, he thought to himself, unaccustomed to the eeriness the thought evoked within him. He had been a skeptic, but no more.
She smiled and locked eyes with him. “You have always had a way of making me smile, and I enjoy that about you. I am just unused to having my life so upended. And I miss my parents.” She wiped a tear away.
“We have not mentioned your husband, but I would like to know more, if you will tell. I want to help.”
She winced. “I think of my husband as a nightmare of my uncle’s making. To me, they are the same. I know I should not say that, but it is how I feel. Maybe I will speak more about it to you later.”
The sound of boots and rustling petticoats ushered Nizal and Lady Worsley into the room.
“Lady Tipton, did you find what you were seeking in this room?” Nizal motioned to the box tucked under Max’s arm.
“Yes. I found my father’s papers,” Maggie responded.
“We shall return with them to Hambright to have better light and more time to read them,” Max added. “There are some interesting items among them, to be sure.”
“Well, that’s great. What do you say we proceed to the barn and have a look?” Nizal suggested.
“Marvelous. The sooner, the better. I have gained a fuller appreciation of hot tea and a warm fire. It is deuced cold in here.”
The party quickly moved to the barn. There were no animals and not much to see since most of what had remained had been disbursed years before. Mr. Nizal pointed toward evidence that horses had stayed recently. The most curious finding was Max’s discovery of both Meg’s and her father’s saddles. They remained where they always kept them, but the girth on her saddle had been cut so close to the billet that one might easily miss it if the horse was being saddled in a hurry.
“The thought of someone doing this to you, my dear, sickens me to the bone. Who would have done such a thing?” Lady Worsley huffed.
Mr. Nizal stood there for a long, quiet moment. “Lord Worsley, would there be any way to determine where the carriage that Viscount and Lady Winters rode in that day might be?”
Max turned to his mother. “If I recall correctly, you had that towed to our yard, did you not, Mother?”
“Yes. I could not bear the thought of Maggie seeing it. I had it taken away. We eventually returned the one horse that survived the accident, but the carriage remained in the shed behind our stables. I have not thought of that in ages.”
Mr. Nizal frowned. “Lady Worsley, how were you able to make that happen? It is rather unusual.”
“Lady Winters and I were closer than many sisters. No one questioned my having it taken to my estate, especially considering the pain and suffering left behind.”
“Did anyone inquire after it?” Nizal arched a brow.
“No. The new viscount arrived a few days later, but no one ever inquired. Why do you ask? Surely no one would think I stole it.” Her voice was almost shrill in response.
“No, no. That is not where I am going with this. But if my suspicions are correct, the accident was no accident and the evidence could still be perfectly viable.”
They met
his words with a collective gasp.
“I suggest we keep all of this to ourselves for now.” Max offered. “Perhaps we should first return to my house, and then we can go see the carriage.” He turned to Maggie. “I do not believe this would be the best thing for you to do. Would you mind allowing me to look in on this? You and Mother need not come.” He read the terror in Maggie’s face. “Please.”
Maggie wiped away the tears that kept falling. “Of course. And I apologize for becoming a watering pot, but I never properly got to digest what happened to my family. Now I am facing the fact that what I suspected could have really happened.”
Max drew Maggie close.
“And what is that, Lady Tipton?” Nizal urged.
“That my family’s accident was possibly intentional.” She buried her face in her hands and wept as Max gathered her close and gently rubbed her back. Shep nudged her leg with kisses, seeming to know she needed him.
“We must get back. Now. I want to make sure that if there is a problem, the magistrate sees it,” Max added purposefully.
“I will make sure of it,” Nizal responded.
Max summoned the carriage and the little group boarded. As they pulled around the front drive, he glanced up at the attic window. A woman in a white dress with dark hair waved at them. It appeared to be Maggie’s mother. He would have sworn she wore a smile on her face.
Chapter 10
“My dear, you need your rest. The doctor agreed to allow your outing, such as it was, but all of this up and down will cause a relapse.” Lady Worsley fluffed up Maggie’s pillow and snugged up her blanket. “I will send Anna up with a tray, and she can ready a bath for you. A hot bath would do you wonders. I just picked up this wonderful cream from town for feet and hands. It reminded me of your mother. She loved the scent of roses.”
“Thank you, Harriett.” Maggie thought for a minute. “I would love to try the cream.”
The Earl She Left Behind (The Noble Hearts Series; Common Elements #1) Page 8