A Notorious Proposition

by Adele Ashworth

  “The authorities then sealed the tunnel,” Madeleine added, “and Rothebury, or his brother, had the house locked up until he returned months ago. Whether Benedict knew of all the hidden passageways or not is anyone’s guess.”

  “It certainly has quite a history,” Ivy said with a smile. “No wonder the marquess thinks it’s haunted.”

  Madeleine moved from around the table, grasped Ivy’s shoulders, and kissed both of her cheeks lightly. “I only wish I could join in the excitement.”

  “But we can’t, sweetheart,” Thomas quickly said, his tone more forceful than his words.

  “Yes, our daughter is waiting for our return in Eastleigh, so we’ll be leaving in a few days.” Madeleine grinned slyly at her husband. “But do not worry. We will certainly be back in time for the ball.”

  Garrett chuckled and lightly grasped her elbow. “Let’s go, Lady Ivy. Before you plan anything else that costs a fortune.”

  After final good-byes, they donned their wraps, opened the door, and walked outside into the frigid winter air.

  Chapter 6

  To stifle any rumors they might stir within Lord Rye’s small staff, she got Garrett to agree to meet her at the house at four for tea rather than walk her home and enter with her after they left the Hope cottage. At least, for the sake of propriety, that looked more appropriate on the surface. It did nothing for her nerves however. She skipped luncheon altogether, instead deciding to begin the search on her own by attempting to move the bookcase in the library herself. As her luck tended to run these days, it didn’t budge. She would need Garrett to help her, she supposed, since she couldn’t very well ask anyone working on the estate.

  She needed Garrett. The idea alone made her laugh at the absurdities in life. If only she had never met him. If only she had been more cautious. If only her feelings for him hadn’t ruined her perspective regarding two or three gentlemen callers she’d had in the last two years. Her brother had expected her to marry well, especially considering her large dowry and respectable title. But he had left on his own strange mission, leaving her alone with just the comfort of their estate and a few friends. And for the most part she had been happy with that—and her work for the Crown, even if only a few trusted her visions. But that hardly mattered. She trusted her visions, her dreams, and instinctively knew when something was wrong.

  As she did now.

  Something was wrong inside Garrett. That she could sense. He kept information from her, true, but there was more. Something troubled him deeply, or hurt him, though whether physical or emotional she couldn’t guess. But it made her angry that she cared. She should hate him for leaving her as he did, for not trusting her, and yet she couldn’t find it in herself to do so. Even stranger, she wanted to discover his secrets, if only to put them aside and move on. She didn’t want to be here, didn’t want his presence at her side, and certainly did not want his help because deep down she knew the answers she sought involved him.

  Now, as she paced the floor of the parlor waiting for his arrival, she couldn’t help but glance at the clock every few minutes, and she positively had to fight her desire to watch for him from the window. She’d changed into an older day gown of soft gray linen because she didn’t want to spoil a good new one with dirt and dust. But it also fit snugly at the bust and hips, a little annoyance that Garrett would likely notice. And she absolutely didn’t want him noticing—at least that’s what she told herself.

  “Lady Ivy, Mr. Burke is here to see the property. Shall I show him in?”

  Startled by the interruption, she turned around to see Newbury standing in the doorway, his face prosaic, posture stiff and formal. If he knew he scared her with his silent entrance, he didn’t show it.

  “Yes, please do, Newbury,” she replied, recovering her composure even as her pulse began to race.

  As soon as he departed, she quickly licked her lips and fluffed out her skirts, smoothing her waist with her palms and hoping she didn’t look too expectant.

  Seconds later the butler returned, followed by Garrett, who’d also changed into less than formal attire, an ecru linen shirt and trousers in dark brown. Suitable, she supposed, and no less spectacular in appearance as they hugged his masculine form in all the right places.

  “Lady Ivy,” he said in greeting, bowing a little before moving toward her.

  She forced a smile. “Mr. Burke, so nice to see you again.”

  His eyes narrowed as he took in her appearance, his gaze traveling slowly up and down her body. “Indeed, it is.”

  She clasped her hands in front of her in a gesture of modesty. “I’ll be showing Mr. Burke the estate, Newbury,” she said in dismissal, “after which we may take tea. I’ll call on you when we’re ready.”

  “Of course, my lady,” the man replied with a respectful nod, then quit the room.

  Garrett walked closer as he continued to assess her from head to foot. “I see you’ve changed,” he fairly drawled.

  She smiled wryly, trying very hard to ignore the rapid beating of her heart as he approached. “As have you.”

  He stopped about two feet away from her and cocked his head to the side. “Can you move comfortably in that gown?”

  She pulled back a little. “I beg your pardon?”

  He shrugged a shoulder, then crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s awfully…snug in the bodice.”

  She swallowed a gasp at his insolence. “That’s really none of your business, sir.”

  He nodded. “Perhaps not. But if you can’t move very well in small spaces because your movements are constricted, our work might be hampered.”

  She hadn’t thought of that, and suddenly felt a bit let down that he hadn’t mentioned, or even seemed to be impressed, by her curves. But worrying about such a thing was ludicrous and a waste of time. Cheeks flushing at her own idiocy, she disregarded the comment, lifted her skirts and walked past him. “This way, Garrett.”

  He followed without a word as she led him through the foyer and down the long corridor toward the closed library door. After a quick glance over her shoulder and down the hall, she opened it quickly, moved to usher him inside, then closed it softly behind them.

  Garrett took control at that point and strode directly toward the first of two bookcases placed on opposite ends of the east wall. Each was about six feet long and ten feet tall, the shelves holding nary a book, but trinkets and sundry knickknacks, none of them valuable by her estimation.

  “I tried to move both of them earlier,” she finally confessed, as Garrett began studying the corners and sides of the first one, “but neither would budge no matter how hard I pushed.”

  “I assumed as much,” he replied, almost absentmindedly.

  She stood behind him, crossing her arms over her breasts. “You did?”

  He shot her a fast glance. “Of course. You wanted to get inside first, though I knew you wouldn’t be able to move it alone. If I thought you could have, I wouldn’t have waited three blessed hours to try it myself.”

  Ivy didn’t know whether to be offended that he’d guessed her intentions or proud that he anticipated her initiative in the matter. Instead of questioning him about his amazing ability as a seer, she asked instead, “Why this bookcase and not the other?”

  Without looking at her, he replied, “The other is closest to a window; this one is more centralized inside the house, which makes it a likelier choice by logic.”

  “How astute of you,” she commented wryly.

  “I thought so.”

  Garrett began to run his fingers very slowly down the left side of the bookcase, where the edge met the wall, from as far up as he could reach to the bottom of the wooden floor.

  “Do you think we’ll need a candle?”

  “Probably,” he replied after a moment. “Go get one, Ivy.”

  She hesitated for a second or two, then stated firmly, “If you manage to open it, do not think to enter without me.”

  He didn’t look at her, but the side of his mout
h twitched up in amusement. “No, I wouldn’t dream of entering without you.”

  She turned and scanned the sparse library, seeing nothing but a sofa and end table with a large lamp sitting atop. No candles to speak of, but she now had a better idea. Quickly, she walked to the door and exited, heading toward the parlor, where she’d seen a small oil lamp on the mantelpiece, a steady brightness that would work much better with less risk of its extinguishing to leave them in total darkness. After retrieving and lighting it, she hastily made her way back to the library before Newbury or Mrs. Thurman noticed her.

  She entered quietly, closed the door softly once more, and turned. “How about this—”

  Mouth dropped open in amazement, she stared at the right side of the bookcase Garrett had been examining, now opened about a foot or two, his body hidden behind it so that she could only see one of his legs sticking out from the side.

  “How did you do that?” she asked in awe as she rushed to his side.

  “There’s a—latch,” he replied, pulling back to look at her, a wide grin on his face, “at the top.”

  She smiled in return. “A latch at the top of the bookcase?”

  “Behind it, actually.” He dusted his palms off as he added, “I knew there had to be something holding it tightly in place; otherwise, the staff might have moved the bookcase and discovered the entrance when cleaning.”

  “That’s why you knew I couldn’t move it myself,” she retorted with feigned sweetness.

  He shrugged. “I did no more than guess.”

  She almost snorted as she moved to his side. “Can you see in there?”

  He turned back to the entrance. “Not very well, but the air reeks.”

  Scrunching her nose, she said, “Yes, I smell it, too.”

  “Probably dead rats,” he concluded, taking the lamp from her hands without asking for it.

  She pressed against him, with her palms to his wide shoulders, attempting to see around him. “I can manage the smell of dead rats, now let’s go in.”

  He looked down at her face, only inches from his, the corner of his mouth curving up a fraction. “If you only knew what I was thinking at this moment,” he said softly.

  That took her aback, and she straightened a little, her nerves suddenly jarred by their closeness, her breasts grazing the back of his shirt. Recovering herself, she replied nonchalantly, “The diamonds?”

  His grin deepened, a sparkle lit his eyes, and he whispered, “Always the diamonds—and that I’m going in first.”

  His obsession with the diamonds tempted him beyond anything else, as it had been before. Ivy struggled to make sense of him, of the manner in which he seemed to ignore her closeness, her femininity. As if he had no memory whatsoever of how much they’d shared in those few days together, how she’d been nude and willing beneath him, how she’d gasped and cried out in pleasure when he’d taken her intimately. And the worst part was that she couldn’t sense his feelings toward her, couldn’t tell if he felt as physically and emotionally unsettled as she did to be near him again. If she wasn’t careful, such thoughts and worries would become her obsession.

  Trying not to appear irritated, she grabbed the lamp from his hands and countered boldly, “No, I’m going in first.”

  He didn’t argue, didn’t look surprised. In fact, he stood back a little so that she could squeeze past him.

  “Lead the way, Lady Ivy,” he murmured, his warm breath on her cheek.

  Drawing her last full breath of clean air, she seized the moment and began pushing her body through the small entrance, her back and bottom unavoidably brushing the front of his body, which she completely disregarded.

  The second she stepped into the tight enclosure, the smell of dust, mold, and decay became almost overbearing though she could breath without much effort. The air was stale, but the lamp glowed brightly. She immediately noticed the staircase to her left, steep, and perhaps only a foot and a half wide. To her right, the landing disappeared into the darkness.

  “Which way?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “Take the stairs. The path to the right may only lead around the side of the house.”

  “Or down to the cellar and the tunnel,” she rebutted mildly.

  “We can go in that direction later,” he said as a whisper in her ear. “For now, let’s start with the stairs.”

  One way was as good as another, she supposed. “Should we close the bookcase in case someone looks for us in the library?”

  “No,” he replied at once. “Better to have someone find the entrance than risk getting locked in. I’m sure there’s a latch somewhere, but if I can’t find it, I don’t want to get trapped for who knows how long before we’re rescued. And the walls are thick,” he added as an afterthought.

  Meaning, she mused, that the hidden staircase might be fairly soundproof. Ivy shivered at the thought. Getting trapped in a dank and dusty place nobody knew about would be positively horrifying.

  “It’s cold in here,” she said, hugging the lamp in front of her. “And there are cobwebs everywhere.”

  “Probably only in corners. Ignore it and let’s go, Ivy,” he returned, nudging her lower back with his hand.

  She stepped onto the first wooden stair with care, uncertain if it would hold, but found it sturdy enough to support her weight. Garrett closed in behind her, blocking the light from the library with his body.

  Holding the lamp out in front of her a little, she began to climb the stairs, slowly at first, testing each step for strength, pausing only when one of them creaked beneath her. By the time she reached the fourth, the light from the library had all but vanished, and she and Garrett were now enclosed in total darkness save for the dim glow of the flickering lamp.

  “This is very steep,” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear. “Anyone who came through here regularly would have to be careful not to trip for fear of breaking his neck.”

  “I’ll catch you if you fall,” he asserted in a voice just as quiet.

  “I’m not planning to fall, Garrett.”

  “Afraid of landing in my arms?” he asked in a deep whisper.

  She couldn’t believe he said such a thing, but she brushed over the comment. “A banister would be nice. I’m afraid to touch the walls.”

  “The smell is intensifying,” he said.

  She took anther step. “You don’t think we’ll find a dead body up here, do you?”

  He chuckled. “You’re the seer. Do you feel a presence?”

  “No,” she snapped. “The staircase is curving to the right—how far have we climbed?”

  “I’d say about ten feet.”

  The air had become still and stifling, though it remained cold. Ivy tried breathing through her mouth, to avoid the stench and to keep from sneezing. Garrett climbed directly behind her, taking each step as she left it, and suddenly she felt grateful, for his warmth at her back and that she hadn’t entered alone.

  “I see the landing,” she murmured. “I think it’s part of the second floor.”

  “So if we’re to the east of the library,” he conjectured, “and climbing while facing north, what room are we below?”

  She thought about that for a second. “I’m not entirely sure, but I’d bet it’s a bedchamber. Not the master bedchamber, but likely one next to mine, or between the two.”

  She stepped onto the landing and shined the lamp around her. “The passageway splits in two directions. Right or left?”

  “Right,” he replied. “Let’s see if anyone can get to your room.”

  Dryly, she said, “I don’t think I want to know the answer to that question.”

  “I think perhaps you should,” he maintained with honesty.

  She groaned. “Yes, perhaps I should.”

  She turned to the right, and as soon as she took a step, Garrett climbed up beside her, ducking a bit as the ceiling lowered.

  The makeshift corridor, just slightly taller and wider than a crawlway remained black as night save
for the lamp in her hand. Even she had to hunch over a bit to move forward, which she did with increasing anticipation. Suddenly she stopped short, and Garrett bumped into her.

  “What is it?” he asked, sounding only barely irritated.

  “There’s something on the floor.”

  “Probably the source of the smell,” he said, gazing down over her shoulder.

  She lowered her body a little and moved the oil lamp toward the floor to better see.

  “It’s not a rat,” she whispered. “It’s—I think it’s a cat.”

  “How the devil did a cat get in here?”

  “At least I think it’s a cat,” she amended. “It’s hard to tell because it’s badly decomposed.”

  “So it’s been in here a while,” he mused. “Let’s keep going.”

  The floorboards creaked beneath her as she righted herself the best she could and stepped over the animal’s remains. Gingerly, she continued walking, her pace slow, the lamp raised, feeling the cold, trying in earnest to avoid touching anything, though she knew her gown and hair were probably already covered with dust. To her dismay, after only eight or nine feet, she came to a wall.

  “This passageway doesn’t go anywhere,” she said with a trace of frustration.

  He pulled up behind her. “No, it’s got to be a door. Nobody would go to the trouble of building it otherwise.”

  She lifted the lamp up to the corners, then down the sides, searching for a latch. Suddenly, low and to her left, she noticed an odd notch in the wood.

  “Wait, there’s something here.” She knelt a little, and for the first time, bravely reached out with a finger—and stuck it into a thick, sticky web.

  Ivy shrieked and jumped back, bumping into Garrett, breathing erratically, feeling a slice of pure terror cut through her for the first time in ages.