Mr. Cox looked bored.
Heavens, why wasn’t the man showing more interest? If he truly loved Lady Juliet, he should be delighted she was talking to him. Not that Ellie cared, precisely, but if Lady Juliet married Mr. Cox—and last evening’s events suggested she felt some sort of attachment to him—she would not marry Ned. And she shouldn’t marry Ned if she didn’t love him. Ned had already suffered Cicely’s loss; it would be beyond cruel if he had to deal with the pain of an unfaithful, uncaring wife.
Not to mention Ellie wouldn’t have to watch him marry someone else again, at least not yet.
“I will admit”—Mr. Humphrey was still going on—“that it is easier for gentlemen to travel than ladies as we don’t have to bring the assortment of dresses and spencers and such you lovely ones must carry to dazzle our male eyes; however, we poor men do have to select the proper waistcoats”—Mr. Humphrey had selected a rather bilious green one today—“and transport a vast quantity of cravats in order to appear before you with a suitably arranged creation.”
“Yes.” It was beginning to look as if Miss Mosely had lost control of her head, she was bobbing it so regularly in her agreement with Mr. Humphrey. “Yes, indeed. My brother always says a man must bring a valise full of cravats when he leaves home.”
“Good God,” Ned muttered. “Do you suppose Mama would object if I put us all out of our misery by stuffing Humphrey’s cravat down his throat?”
Ellie gasped and giggled at the same time, making a sort of strangled gurgle.
“Are you all right?” Ned asked.
“Umm.”
Fortunately, her grace had finally wrested the conversation from Mr. Humphrey’s deadly grasp. “I’m sure that’s all very interesting, but as for today’s activity, we—”
“I have a good book,” Jack called out, “so don’t feel you need to contrive anything on my account.” He’d taken a chair closest to the duchess—and farthest from Miss Wharton. The duke was propped against the mantel nearby.
“And I have some letters that need answering,” Ash offered. He’d chosen a chair at a good distance from Lady Heldon.
The duchess frowned at them. “Of course you will wish to put aside your other diversions to participate once you hear what we’ll be doing.” She paused to smile at everyone. “We’re going to have a treasure hunt.”
Miss Wharton actually squealed—Ellie wasn’t certain she’d ever heard a grown woman make that particular sound—and clapped her hands. “A treasure hunt? How exciting!”
“And what treasure are we hunting?” Lady Heldon asked, interrupting her whispered conversation with Ophelia.
“Coins and bank-notes, I hope,” Percy said.
“No, Percy.” The duchess frowned at him. “Of course there will be no coins or bank-notes. What are you thinking?”
“That he’s so far up River Tick, he’ll never find his way home,” Ned muttered.
“Shush.” Ellie frowned at him—and then jerked her eyes back to the duchess. Why did Ned have to be so damn handsome? Any woman would want to lose herself in his deep brown eyes.
But not she. No. She was done with pining for him.
“My dear brother-in-law must be at very low ebb indeed,” he said, “to be so blatant about his interest in the ready.”
Ellie darted him a glance. “That’s not news. He’s been living hand to mouth for years.”
Ned’s brows rose. “He has?”
“Didn’t you know? He traded on his expectations until he inherited and then discovered he was expecting far too much. Apparently his father also let money slip through his fingers like water.”
“Hmm. I didn’t know that, though I suppose I should have suspected it.”
He didn’t know because he’d been too enamored of Cicely to notice.
No, that wasn’t fair. The rumors hadn’t started until after Cicely’s mother died—two months after Cicely, when Ned was lost in grief.
“Everyone says Lady Headley held the purse strings,” Ellie said. “Once she was gone, there was no stopping Sir Arthur.” The kinder souls attributed his sudden wildness to sorrow at the loss of his wife, but given that Percy’s father died of an apoplexy nine months later while in bed with two of the maids, Ellie took leave to doubt that.
Ned was shaking his head. “I definitely should have guessed. Percy had been begging money from Cicely ever since we married—perhaps before, for all I know—and once she died, he put the touch on me. I cut him off this Christmas; he must be down to his last farthing now. We’ll probably find him looking behind the cushions for spare change.”
“So what are we hunting, your grace?” Lady Heldon asked again.
The duchess smiled and looked around the room. “In honor of St. Valentine’s Day, the duke and I have hidden a dozen paper hearts in the castle’s dungeon.”
“Paper hearts?!” Percy dropped his head into his hands.
Miss Wharton reacted with more enthusiasm. “A dungeon! A real dungeon?”
“Well,” the duke said, “it’s really more of a glorified cellar. We use it to store wine—though we did not hide any hearts in that area”—he directed his gaze at Percy—“and furniture and other items we don’t use at the moment.”
“It’s quite a hodge-podge, as you might imagine,” the duchess added. “Rather dusty, I’m afraid, and a trifle cobwebby. The servants don’t clean down there, you understand.”
“Are there ghosts?” Miss Wharton looked as if she half hoped the answer was yes.
The duchess smiled. “Not to my knowledge, but with a place as old as the castle—it’s been the Greycliffe family seat for almost seven hundred years—it wouldn’t be surprising if a spirit or two was in residence.”
“Oh, dear. I-I don’t believe ... I mean ... g-ghosts?” Miss Mosely’s voice quavered in alarm.
“If there are any spirits about, I’m sure they’re friendly ones.” The duke appeared to be trying very hard not to laugh.
“I wouldn’t be so certain,” Ned muttered. “Hasn’t Father looked at the damn ancestors’ portraits recently?”
Ellie muffled her giggle.
“Oh, even friendly ghosts ...” Miss Mosely turned an unpleasant shade of white, prompting Mr. Humphrey to go so far as to pat her hand in a bracing manner.
Ned snorted, though quietly, thank heavens. “That woman should be named Miss Mousely. She’s far more likely to encounter a spider than a spirit.”
“Please don’t say so. I imagine she—and most of the other ladies—would be equally alarmed at that prospect,” Ellie said.
He smiled at her. “But not you?”
“Of course not.”
“Your grace,” Mr. Humphrey said, “I must object to subjecting the ladies to the possible presence of preternatural beings. While I—and I assume your other male guests—would face these creatures without f-flinching”—his voice trembled slightly and he cleared his throat—“if f-forced to do so, I cannot think it wise to risk injuring the delicate sensibilities of the lovely females present by inviting them into an area that might be infested with specters.”
The duke stared at Mr. Humphrey as if he were some rare species of beetle. He opened his mouth, likely to put the fellow in his place, but the duchess jumped in before he could do so.
“Oh, Mr. Humphrey—and Miss Mosely—don’t be concerned. His grace will be with us, and you know no mere ghost would dare misbehave before the Duke of Greycliffe.”
The duke blinked at his duchess. “Quite.”
“But what is the point of collecting the hearts?” Percy asked. “There must be a point.”
The duchess smiled. “Of course there is. Whoever collects the most hearts will get to take the first sleigh ride.”
Lady Heldon frowned and then said what everyone was thinking. “Pardon me, your grace, but that hardly seems worth the effort of venturing into a dank dungeon.”
“Dank and dusty,” Ophelia said. “I believe I’ll stay here and keep my hem clean while the rest of you
go looking for hearts.”
“We can get up a game of cards.” Percy looked around. “Care to join us, Ash?”
“No, thank you.” Ash contemplated his mother. “Is the winner to ride alone, Mama?”
The Duchess of Love smiled at her eldest son as if he were exceedingly clever. “No, of course not. He or she gets to choose a companion, so I suppose two people win”—she shrugged—“if the chosen companion is happy with the choice, of course.”
There was a moment of silence while everyone digested this bit of information.
Ellie swallowed a sigh. Ned would choose Lady Juliet if he won, and Mr. Cox would choose—she looked over at the couple on the settee. They were both staring at the duchess.
Would Mr. Cox choose Lady Juliet, too? And that would leave Ned with ... whom?
“Ah, you should have said so at once, your grace.” Lady Heldon stood, shook out her skirts, and threw what was obviously intended as a flirtatious glance at Ash. “Will you lead us down to this dungeon, Lord Ashton?”
“Of course.” Ash offered his mother his arm. “May I escort you, Mama? That is if the specter-taming Duke of Greycliffe doesn’t object?”
The duke inclined his head as the duchess laughed and put her hand on Ash’s arm.
Ned turned to Ellie; well, obviously he had no other choice if he didn’t wish to be unconscionably rude.
“Coming?” he asked, offering his arm.
She nodded and put her fingers on his sleeve, on his strong forearm. Her head came only as high as his shoulder.
She felt delicate and feminine for a moment, and familiar, painful longing swept through her. She loved Ned; she’d always loved him and probably always would.
But damn it, he didn’t love her, at least not the way she wanted him to.
They were the last to leave the drawing room, and by the time they reached the stairs down to the dungeon, everyone else had vanished.
“People must be eager to begin the game,” Ellie said.
“Or to finish it,” Ned said. “Here, the stairs are uneven. Let me go first. You can lean on me if you need to.”
Ellie watched Ned’s broad back move ahead of her as she stepped into the stairwell. She would not touch him if she could possibly avoid it. She put her hand against the wall instead.
Whom would she choose to ride with if she won this game: the man she loved who thought of her as a sister or the man who’d settle for her if he couldn’t have the woman he really wanted?
She stumbled slightly, but caught her balance without having to touch Ned.
She’d choose Mr. Humphrey and hope his incessant, nonsensical chattering put her out of her misery.
Chapter 7
Keep a man guessing ...
—Venus’s Love Notes
Ned hadn’t been down in the dungeon for years; he’d forgotten how low the ceiling was. He ducked just in time to avoid banging his head on the lintel as he stepped through the door from the stairs into the cellar. Damn! He’d have to be careful.
“Oh—eek!” Ellie landed hard against his back.
He stumbled forward a step, and then twisted, grabbing her by the shoulders to steady her. Her body brushed against his, her breasts soft against his chest, and he inhaled the clean scent of lemon and soap and woman.
His cock sprang to attention.
He shot his arms straight to hold her away from his misbehaving organ. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She jerked herself free. “I merely tripped on the last step.”
“I told you they were uneven.”
“Yes, I know. The last one was just deeper than the others.”
It was—he’d almost missed it himself. “Be careful—the floor’s uneven as well.”
“I know that. I’ve been here before.”
“Not since you were a girl, unless you’ve taken to helping Dalton with the wine.” They were standing right outside the wine cellar, but Father had been very clear there was nothing hidden among the casks. Everyone else had moved on to the other storage rooms around the corner.
“Of course I haven’t been helping Mr. Dalton, but it’s not as if any of this has changed since we used to play down here.” She looked away. “We should catch up to the others.” She took a quick step—and tripped again. He caught her around the waist.
Her slender waist. She had a figure somewhere under this ocean of fabric. As a girl, she’d been tall and willowy. When had she started hiding herself in her clothes?
The damn red drawers popped into his head and the image of how she would look—
What the hell was the matter with him?
She slipped out of his hold and started to hurry ahead—and stumbled once more.
“Mama will be very unhappy with me if you get injured while in my care,” he said, trying to grasp her elbow. She danced out of his reach, and he lost his patience. “What is the matter, Ellie?”
“Nothing.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I-I just want to catch up. They might start without us.”
“I doubt that.” Mama had hit on an inspired way to get them to participate in this silly game. She must know Jack and Ash wanted to be certain they weren’t trapped in a sleigh with Miss Wharton or Lady Heldon—and those ladies were equally determined to nab their quarries.
He didn’t much care if he won or not; surely he would be paired with Lady Juliet. Humphrey would likely ride with Miss Mousely—Mosely—and Cox ...
Ned frowned. Would Cox choose Ellie?
Blast it, he didn’t trust the fellow—he was obviously a bit of a rake. Ellie didn’t have the experience to deal with a man of his stamp; she might be twenty-six, but she was still as green as grass.
“Why do you wish to find these ridiculous hearts, Ellie?” he asked. “You aren’t hoping to capture Cox, are you?” She had spent most of last night in Cox’s company, seduced by his pretty face, no doubt.
Oh, damn, she flinched before glaring at him. Had he sounded as if he thought she was out of her depth with Cox? He hadn’t meant to injure her feelings.
“I’m merely taking your advice to cooperate with your mother’s matchmaking efforts.”
He hadn’t precisely told her to do that, had he?
“And in any event, your mother and father went to the trouble of hiding the hearts,” she said, finally taking his arm. “It would be rude not to show some interest.”
They proceeded down the corridor in silence. Ellie might have her fingers on his sleeve, but it felt as if she were separated from him by a solid stone wall. All the easy smiles and relaxed warmth he’d had with her in past years were gone. She was acting like a complete—and unpleasant—stranger.
Perhaps it was just as well. He should concentrate on wooing Lady Juliet. He hated to see Ellie hurt—and he was very much afraid she would be hurt by Cox—but if she didn’t want his advice, there wasn’t much he could do.
He’d have a word with Jack and Ash, though. She might listen to one of them.
“There you are,” Mama called out as they turned the corner and found the group gathered by the door to the first storeroom. “What have you two been up to?”
Something in Mama’s tone implied that they had indeed been up to something.
Ellie’s cheeks turned bright red, and she whipped her fingers off his arm as if his sleeve had just burst into flames. Zeus, did she have to look so guilty? They hadn’t been doing anything but arguing, for God’s sake.
“I was merely helping Ellie—I mean, Miss Bowman—navigate the uneven flooring,” he said.
“Oh?” Mama raised her brows. “I would have thought you’d have no trouble with your footing, Ellie. You and Ned played down here often enough.”
“That was when I was a girl, your grace,” Ellie said, “many years ago.”
“Not so many.” Mama had a definite twinkle in her eye. “Why it seems like it was just yesterday.”
Good God, now Mama seemed to be hinting that he and Ellie made a practice of sneaking down into t
he dungeons for some salacious purpose. “Hardly yesterday,” he said. “More like almost twenty years ago.”
Mama and Ellie both glared at him.
“Well, it was. Admit it, Ellie. You couldn’t have been more than seven or eight—ten at the outside—the last time we were down here.”
“You might not have wanted to stress quite how far from girlhood Ellie is,” Father murmured.
Apparently Father was correct. Ellie showed him her back. “I believe I did say it was many years ago. Is it time to start the game, your grace?”
Mama looked at Ned reproachfully before she smiled at everyone else. “Yes, indeed. Now that we are all here, the hunt can begin.”
Ophelia and Lady Heldon almost knocked Ash down to get through the storeroom door, Miss Wharton close on their heels and everyone else not far behind. Immediately the sound of drawers opening and shutting filled the corridor.
“The hearts are rather cleverly hidden”—Mama had to raise her voice to be heard over the din—“and some have clues written on them, so you’ll have to use your heads from time to time.”
No one even paused in his or her furious searching.
“The duke and I will meet you at the other end of the storerooms. We don’t want to risk giving anyone hints.”
Mama and Father moved off down the corridor. Ned waited until Ellie and the rest of the party—led by Ophelia, Lady Heldon, and Miss Wharton, of course—had moved onto the second room before he even stepped out of the passageway.
Ash and Jack were the only ones left. Jack had slipped his arm out of his sling once they were alone and was now pulling drawers out haphazardly while Ash leaned against a hideous wooden chair. Carved serpents frolicked across its back. Not for the first time Ned wondered about the decorating taste of his ancestors.
“Why aren’t you looking for hearts, Ash?” he asked. “Think they’ve all been found already?”
Jack was the one who answered. “No one found anything here, so I’m still hopeful.” He glanced at Ash. “Why aren’t you looking? Resigned to cuddling with Lady Heldon under the fur rug?”
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