—
Mrs Cromby, Waverly’s kindly housekeeper, chatted away as she arranged cushions under Chloe’s head and covered her with a quilt. “Poor dear, we will have you feeling better in no time. The sun always affects my Molly in exactly the same way. ‘Tis fortunate you were so close to the house so that Lord Salcombe could bring you in directly. I fear this sofa is not the most comfortable, but the others are much worse. I doubt old Nate Carington bought a stick of new furniture during his lifetime, the old miser that he was. Of course, in the end he let everything fall to ruin when his health failed him, which was no wonder with all the smuggled rum and whisky and all that climbing about in damp caverns and such. And the draughts in the house caused by all the passages—even one in his bedchamber! I trust his lordship will close that one up straight away!” She finished tucking the quilt around Chloe’s shoulders and straightened. “Now, you are to rest for a while. His lordship gave strict orders you are not to be disturbed.” She glanced at Belle who stood near the sofa. “I do not think he referred to you, your Grace.”
“You need not worry, I promise I will not disturb Lady Chloe either.” Belle waited until Mrs Cromby had bustled out before turning to Chloe with a rueful smile. “I dare say your poor head is spinning even more. I know mine is. Mrs Cromby is quite kind and very efficient, but she does tend to talk. I will own I could not follow half of what she said. Except for the secret passages. I must ask Brandt if there really is one in his bedchamber.” She touched Chloe’s hand. “Here I am, talking as much as Mrs Cromby, when you must want to do nothing more than close your eyes.”
“I really feel much better. I am certain I have recovered enough to join the others.”
“And risk Brandt’s wrath? I have no doubt he would carry you back in here immediately.” Her eyes held gentle laughter. “You would do much better to stay here for a little while. Besides, it is your chance to see something of Waverly. Haven’t you always wanted to see the house?”
“Not like this.” She hadn’t envisioned herself being carried in by the master of the house after nearly fainting in front of a crowd of people. And having the master scowl down at her and demand why hadn’t she told him she was ill and why the devil had she insisted on riding instead of driving and then take her to task for running around in the sun after balls.
Never had she thought the master of the house would be her fiancé.
“Perhaps not,” Belle said. “But Brandt is right, you need to rest. Today has been rather difficult.” She bent down and brushed a light kiss across Chloe’s cheek. “I will be back shortly.”
“Yes.” As Belle left the room in her quiet, graceful way, Chloe nearly called her back, but that was ridiculous. She was twenty, a grown woman, and she should not feel like a small child whose mother had just departed.
Her head still hurt and it was easier to close her eyes. The old library was quiet and in spite of herself, she drifted off.
—
“Chloe?” Emily Coltrane’s soft voice aroused Chloe.
She struggled to sit, still a little dizzy. “Emily, what are you doing here?”
“I came to see how you were.” Emily moved to the side of the sofa. “Are you feeling any better?”
“A little.” Her head no longer hurt so much, nor did she feel so sick. “I usually do not manage to humiliate myself this much in one day.”
“It certainly made the day exciting. Particularly when you fainted just after the Duke announced your betrothal. More than one person wondered whether you were just as surprised as everyone else.”
“It was only because of the sun. If I am in it too long, I sometimes develop the headache. I did not eat much breakfast, which made me feel rather ill as well.”
“I am glad it was not learning you were to marry Lord Salcombe.” She fixed her direct gaze on Chloe’s face. “Are you going to marry him because of what happened at the ball?”
Chloe stared at her. “Why would you think that?”
“I suppose it is because you have always seemed to hold Lord Salcombe in such dislike. I worried that perhaps Lady…someone tried to cause mischief and you were forced to marry Lord Salcombe because of that.”
Emily was far too astute. “No, it was not like that.” Chloe made herself look directly at Emily. “It is true that I did not care for Lord Salcombe at first, but that…that is no longer true. I had no idea that he would even be interested in me and I…” she would undoubtedly sound fickle “…I suppose I was so determined to fall in love with Sir Preston that I did not realise until I made such a sad mess of everything that I…I cared for Lord Salcombe.”
“I see.” Emily studied her face. If she did not believe Chloe, she gave no indication. “I just wanted to make certain that neither you nor Lord Salcombe was forced because…”
She suddenly stopped. At the same time Chloe looked up and saw Brandt standing in the doorway. Her heart thudded and she wanted to dive under the quilt. What if he had heard her tell Emily that she cared for him?
Emily rose. “I wanted to make certain Lady Chloe was better. We were all quite worried when she was so suddenly taken ill.”
He inclined his head. “Of course.”
“I will not stay much longer.” She looked back at Chloe. “Perhaps I can visit you.”
“I would like that. Besides, we must plan what you are to wear for the next assembly.”
“But only if you are well enough.”
“I will be.”
Emily hesitated. “I am glad you will be staying. And I wish you well.”
“Thank you.”
“Then I will see you soon.” She left the room, only pausing to say goodbye to Brandt.
He crossed the room, coming to stand next to the sofa. He looked down at her, his expression quizzical. “So Miss Coltrane wished to assure herself that we were not forced into an engagement?” he asked.
“Yes.” Chloe plucked at the edge of the quilt. “I suppose you heard everything.”
“Much of it, including the part where you assured Miss Coltrane you realised you cared for me after all.”
“Oh.” She could not meet his eyes.
“Chloe.” All of a sudden he was sitting next to her on the sofa. He tilted her chin towards him, his fingers gentle. “Was that a complete falsehood? Or might I hope you do not hold me in complete dislike?”
She found herself staring into his changeable green-brown eyes. “No. I…I really do not dislike you.”
“I am glad to hear that,” he said softly. “Particularly since we are betrothed.”
She swallowed. “But only temporarily.”
“Permanently for the next two months, perhaps longer.”
Her head was starting to spin again, but this time it was not from the sun. His eyes seemed to mesmerise her. Was she starting to sway towards him or was he starting to sway towards her? But it hardly mattered when his lips brushed hers in a kiss as light and gentle as the touch of butterfly wings. He lifted his head for a moment, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her cheek and then he cupped the back of her head, drawing her to him, his mouth returning to hers in gentle possession.
She should pull away, but the feel and taste of him was too intriguing. Her eyes fluttered shut as she gave herself up to his leisurely kiss. Except for the light touch at the back of her head, he made no move to hold her and so she found herself leaning closer to him. Her lips parted under his soft pressure and she hesitantly returned his kiss. The experiment was pleasurable enough that she repeated it with more confidence, this time lightly touching his lips with her tongue. He stilled, almost as if he’d stopped breathing.
“Oh! Oh, my!”
They jumped apart, Brandt uttering a curse. Mrs Cromby stood there, the shock on her face turning to mortification. “I beg your pardon, my lord. I did not…” She started to back out.
Brandt stood. “There is no need to leave. In fact, you may congratulate us instead. Lady Chloe has agreed to become my wife.”
Mrs
Cromby stared at him and then a smile creased her plump face. “Your wife? I…I had no idea! Of course, I wish you both much happiness! How delightful—Waverly will have a mistress as well!” She beamed at them and then started. “Oh, my, I quite forgot. Four of the guests, including the young lady who was here earlier, have arrived and asked if they might see Lady Chloe for a moment if she is well enough to receive them.”
Brandt glanced at Chloe. “Only if she wishes to.”
“Yes, that would be fine.” Anything to keep from being alone with him, or she might be tempted to ask him to kiss her again. Her cheeks were still heated from the encounter and she did not think she could look at him. It was bad enough she had submitted to his kisses without protest, but to kiss him back in such a brazen fashion…and then to want more.
In a few minutes, Mrs Cromby ushered in Lydia, Emily and Mr Rushton. Lydia stopped on the threshold and looked around the dark, bookshelf-lined room. “Heavens! This room looks exactly like what one would expect to see in Udolpho!”
To Chloe’s chagrin, Sir Preston followed. With everything else that had happened, she had nearly forgotten about Lion. Or the kiss in the conservatory.
There was nothing in his face to indicate disgust as he came to her side, however, followed by the others. Lydia swooped down upon her with a warm embrace. “Oh, you sly thing! I never would have thought! I do hope you are much better. I was so worried when you suddenly fainted although—” she cast Brandt a coy glance “—it was rather romantic when Lord Salcombe carried you to the house!”
Mr Rushton shook her hand. “You look much better. At least there’s some colour in your cheeks. I should have guessed which way the wind was blowing when Salcombe warned me against trifling with your affections.”
“I should hope not,” Lydia said tartly.
Sir Preston also shook her hand. “Must congratulate you as well. Wondered if something was up after the other night.”
“I am very sorry about knocking Lady Kentworth down. I hope she has recovered.”
“No need to be sorry. The dog knocked her down. Wished to apologise for her taking you to task. Afraid she doesn’t hold her tongue when she’s overset.”
“I quite understand.” She smiled at him, relieved he still considered her his friend after all that had happened.
“Lady Chloe has not yet recovered,” Brandt said so sharply Chloe looked up. Oh, dear, now what was wrong?
“Which was why I came,” Emily said. “To make certain no one stayed very long. I did not know you would be here.”
Mr Rushton had strolled over to the mantelpiece. “Isn’t this the room with the entrance to the passage?”
“One of them,” Brandt said. He had his arms folded across his chest, his face impatient.
“There is a passage here?” Lydia skipped over to Mr Rushton’s side. “How exciting? Where?”
“Somewhere near the mantel,” Mr Rushton said. “Heard a tale where a smuggler actually surprised old Nate when he was dozing in a chair in front of the fire.”
“Tale can’t be right,” Sir Preston said.
Mr Rushton raised a brow. “Why not?”
Sir Preston grinned. “Entrance is in the fireplace.”
“Sir Preston is correct,” Brandt said.
“Really? Can we see it?” Lydia asked. She was already stooping so she could peer into the fireplace.
“Lydia, Lady Chloe needs to rest,” Emily said.
“I promise we can leave right after that.” Lydia moved closer. “Nothing looks at all like an entrance! Are you certain it is here?”
“Best show it to her or we’ll never drag her out of here,” Mr Rushton told Brandt. “I’d do so but don’t know how to get the thing open. Besides I don’t want to cover myself in soot.”
“So you wish someone else to cover themselves instead. Quite understandable.” Brandt strode over to the mantel-piece. Chloe rose and trailed after him, curious about the secret passages she had heard so much about.
Brandt put his hand behind the old clock on the mantel and produced a key. He knelt, reached into the fireplace and inserted the key into the sooty iron grille in the back. With a creaky groan, the door opened to reveal a dark cavernous hole.
“Oh, my!” Lydia exclaimed as the men crowded forward. Even Miss Coltrane looked interested.
“Odd place,” Rushton commented. “How did you know, Kentworth?”
Sir Preston’s smile was sheepish. “Actually been here years ago. Climbed through the passage with Dick Ten-bury and found ourselves in the library. Nearly gave us a fright when the chambermaid came in.”
“Fortunate there was no fire.” Mr Rushton glanced at the company. “Who wishes to go in first?”
Lydia squealed. “You can’t possibly think of doing that!”
“I will go in,” Emily said.
Sir Preston stepped forward. “Not a good idea, Miss Coltrane. Dusty, spiders and all that.”
She gave him a cold glance. “That does not bother me in the least.”
Puzzled by her tone, Chloe glanced at Sir Preston. He appeared taken aback, but said nothing.
“I’ve no idea what sort of condition the passage is in,” Brandt told them. “I intend to do what my cousin has done with the passages at Falconcliff, close them.”
“Then I certainly must see it,” Emily said. She rolled her eyes at Lydia. “Do not worry. I do not intend to do more than look.”
“But, Emily, you will dirty your gown!” Lydia said.
“I won’t mind.”
Sir Preston backed out and allowed her to step past him. Chloe suppressed a shiver. She could think of nothing worse than finding one’s self in a dark, cold tunnel where there were no exits except at the beginning and the end. She did not realise she was holding her breath until Emily reappeared. “Well, it certainly is dusty.”
“No mice, spiders or ghosts?” Mr Rushton asked.
“None. The passage does branch off, however.”
“One to old Nate’s bedchamber and the other to the cellar,” Sir Preston said.
“Salcombe is probably beginning to wonder if you’ve engaged in a bit of smuggling yourself,” Mr Rushton told him.
“No, just a bit of exploration.” Sir Preston looked rather guilty.
Brandt bent down and locked the door, then put the key back behind the clock. He rose and his eyes fell on Chloe. “What are you doing up?”
“I wanted to see the entrance as well.”
He frowned. “You should be resting.”
“I feel much better.” For some reason, her headache had completely disappeared while he had been…they had been kissing. Her gaze went to his mouth and she felt almost shaky again. She backed away. “Perhaps I will sit down.”
The others instantly apologised for staying too long and took their leave. Almost as soon as they were through the library door, Belle and Justin entered and announced they had come to take Chloe home in the carriage.
“But Maisy?” She had forgotten all about her little mare.
“She will stay here,” Brandt said. “The groom noticed she had strained a hock.”
“I did not know that.” Now she had even more reason to regret the day.
“We did not want to distress you further,” Belle said gently. “At any rate, Brandt will see to it that she is well cared for.”
Chloe looked over at Brandt. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” He was now polite again as if their encounter earlier had not happened. He was equally polite when he bade her farewell.
—
But then, she thought later, kisses did not always mean much to men. Lucien and his friends had been prime examples of that. She had been embarrassed to find him locked in an embrace with her governess and then, a few days later, embracing a chambermaid with equal fervour. Both times he had laughed it off and pinched her cheek and told her not to tell. The governess had never treated Chloe quite the same again and had left her position a short time later.
The fr
iends Lucien invited to the house to spend endless hours gambling had been no better; after a while they had forgotten her presence and would speak of women as carelessly as they might their horses. She had not understood half of it, only enough to realise lust and regard did not necessarily go together.
Which was why she could not allow any more kisses, no matter how pleasurable she might find them. Her mother had warned her they could lead to other, more serious things. It did not matter that they were betrothed, for they would not marry, which meant she must do everything she could to keep their betrothal on a cool, distant basis.
Chapter Seven
Brandt followed the path that wound through Falcon-cliff’s garden towards the narrow dirt lane that ran along the edge of the cliff. He had no idea why he had even bothered calling at the house—he should have known Chloe would not be there, but would be instead wandering around the property. Her illness yesterday had apparently not acted as a deterrent. Belle had been apologetic as she told him that attempting to keep Chloe inside was like trying to keep a fox in the house, but Belle had made Chloe promise she would sit in the shade.
At least the day was overcast and windy, the clouds a dark grey that hinted of rain. So she wouldn’t become overheated again, forcing him to carry her back to Falcon-cliff with her soft curves pressing against his chest. Then he would not be tempted to steal a few more of the innocent provocative kisses that made him want to do much more with her.
The wind had whipped up noticeably by the time he left the stand of trees and started down the path that wound along the cliff. He finally spotted her near a stone bench. She stood facing the sea, her face lifted to the wind. Her bonnet dangled by its ribbons down her back and her hair had fallen from its pins and blew around her face. As he watched, she closed her eyes, held out her arms and twirled in a circle, her skirts flying around her legs. She looked like some sort of pagan worshipping the elements.
He strode forward. “Your bonnet is off,” he said when he reached her.
She gasped and whirled around, her eyes wide with shock, her hands clasped to her chest. “Oh! You frightened me!”
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