He turned back to the room, looking for anything out of place. But apparently, the Duke was one of those annoying men who let his valet rule his life for there was not so much as a hair in the hairbrush to indicate that the room was used nightly. The linen in the drawers was meticulously folded and nothing hid beneath it. The wardrobe was full of pressed and brushed coats, vests and breeches, without as much as a handkerchief in any of the pockets. The writing desk by the window did not appear to have ever been used. The ink well was empty and the blotter clean.
‘Are we finished?’ Peg whispered from the doorway.
‘Almost,’ he said with a sigh, reaching for the last drawer in the bedside table. ‘There is nothing...’ Then he stopped, staring down at the token sitting in pride of place on a linen handkerchief. He looked to Margaret. ‘Come here and tell me if you recognise this.’
She hurried across the room to him and stared down into the drawer. ‘It is a lock of woman’s hair,’ she said, stating the obvious.
‘But whose?’ he asked.
She prodded it with her finger, taking care not to disarrange it. ‘It does not belong to my sister or me, or to our mother. We are all blonde and this is such a fine auburn that I cannot imagine it is not natural.’
Nor did it match the red hair of the only woman he knew to be associated with Scofield. ‘Did he have a childhood love? Has he ever offered for someone and been refused, or paid court to a special lady above all others?’
‘Not that I know of,’ Margaret said, her brow furrowed. ‘I cannot say that my brother lives the life of a monk. But neither has he told me of anyone special, in all the time I’ve known him.’ She stared down at the lock, which was bound at the end with a bit of blue string and curled tightly enough to fit in the back of a pocket watch, should a gentleman choose to carry it there.
‘It is very romantic,’ she said, at last.
‘I suppose it is,’ he said, stealing a glance at the honey curls brushing her shoulders and imagining what a similar token might mean to the bearer.
‘It supports my version of events, more than yours,’ she said, stroking it very gently with a finger.
‘Why would you think so?’ he said, confused.
‘The version of my brother that you present is a man driven by anger to commit violent acts,’ she said. ‘To me, that does not fit with a man who would cherish a keepsake or obsess over a lost love when in private.’
‘His argument with Dick Sterling was over a woman,’ David countered.
‘And this is not her hair,’ Margaret said, shaking her head. ‘You’d have recognised it otherwise and pointed it out to me as proof for your side.’
‘Probably true,’ he replied, surprised at the astuteness of her reasoning.
‘And I defy you to come up with the story of an auburn-haired lady, tragically murdered, that you can blame on my brother,’ she said. ‘Even I would have noticed such a story in the paper and remarked on it.’
Looking back over several years, he could not think of any, nor had there been a mysterious death among the ladybirds favoured by the aristocracy.
‘My brother, a man who you are convinced is so dangerous that he might do harm to me and Olivia, hides in his room and pines over a token from a woman he cannot have,’ she said, with the sort of devilish smile that a younger sister might have when she had found a delicious piece of gossip that she had no idea how to use. She glanced up at David, her eyes sparkling with mirth. ‘I must say, this opens an interesting window on his character for me and I know him better than any other person. Except her, perhaps,’ she said, touching the lock of hair again.
His heart beat quicker as well, for this was a possibility he never would have considered. Somewhere in England, there was a woman who knew hidden truths about Scofield that his family did not. ‘She might be dead,’ David said, not wanting to leave a possibility unconsidered.
‘Oh, no. I do not think so,’ Margaret replied.
‘How can you be sure?’ he asked.
‘Because, though it is necessary for a duke to marry and get an heir for succession, he has made no effort to find a wife. For some reason, he cannot have the woman he wants. If he is still holding out hope, she is likely alive and single.’
He stared at her, fascinated. ‘It is all surmise. And yet...’
‘Your theories have no more basis in fact than mine,’ she reminded him.
He grinned at her. ‘But yours give me much to consider. There is a woman out there, somewhere, who may have all the answers to our questions.’
She smiled back at him and, for a moment, he felt a flash of the connection that had linked them before she had found out who he really was. ‘Perhaps, with my help, you will be able to find her.’
‘Perhaps so. We work well together,’ he said, not wanting to lose the feeling.
She nodded. ‘You are already considering possibilities that you might have rejected before. It is proof that you need me to help you find the truth. I am opening your mind.’
A part of him wanted to argue that there had been nothing wrong with his mind before he had met her. A single lock of hair did not mean her brother was an innocent man. But he was enjoying the easy companionship between them too much to spoil it with an argument. He glanced back at the keepsake to make sure it looked as it had when they found it, then slid the drawer shut. ‘I think that is all we will find here,’ he said. ‘We should go before we are discovered.’
She nodded again and hurried to the door, opening it a crack and sticking her head into the hall. When she was sure the way was clear, she gestured him forward, pushing him past her so she could close the door. ‘I hope you did not move anything. Hugh might not notice, but his valet surely will.’
‘I was very careful,’ he assured her.
In front of them, he heard the sound of light footsteps running up the main stairs. Before he could think, Margaret had grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into the nearest bedroom, shutting the door behind them.
‘Where are we?’ he whispered.
‘My room,’ she said.
He started. ‘I cannot be found here.’
‘You cannot be found anywhere above stairs,’ she said, exasperated. ‘But at least, if you are found here, I can come up with a logical explanation for it.’
The most logical explanation was one that was likely to get him killed. ‘I would much rather that your brother thought I was rummaging through his linen than yours.’
She laughed softly. ‘I promise not to tell him that you were in my room.’
Her hand was still resting on his arm from when she had pulled him into her room. Such a gentle touch should not be having such an effect on him, but it seemed to freeze him in place, standing too close to her to be proper. Afraid to look her in the eyes, he glanced behind them and saw an attractively decorated room with a very large bed, hung with blue velvet curtains. It seemed to be an awful lot of space for just one small girl. It made him wonder how nicely two might share it.
He turned quickly back to look at her, facing his earlier fear. She was just as pretty as she had been the first time he had seen her and smiling up at him as if they were caught in a shared joke. But though they had spent much of their time together unchaperoned, it had never felt as dangerous as this did, with a bed near and the two of them standing closer than they had ever done. His mind seemed to cloud and time slowed until each moment was an eternity full of delicious tension.
She noticed the change in him and her smile faded, but she did not draw away. Instead, she closed her eyes, leaned towards him and waited.
The opportunity was too good to resist. He dropped his head and kissed her on the mouth, as he had wanted to from the first moment he’d met her. In response, she sighed and snuggled against him, putting her arms tentatively around his waist. He put his hands on her shoulders, steadying her and himself. In a
way, it was like dancing, but he must remember that she was not supposed to be the one to lead. He had promised her the perfect first kiss. It was up to him to provide it.
He took his time with her, making sure his lips were firm but gentle. He teased her mouth, tasting each inch of it, and touching the bow with the tip of his tongue, slowly running it along the closed crease of her lips, only to retreat when she opened them in invitation. Then, he began again, savouring the sigh of frustration that escaped as he retreated.
The fact that something was wrong cut through the passion-soaked haze in his brain before he could identify the nature of the problem. The room had been silent when they’d entered, but now there were sounds of movement coming from somewhere behind them. They were about to be discovered.
He tried to withdraw so they might compose themselves, but before he could release her Margaret had latched on even tighter, forcing her lips against his with the awkwardness of an overeager virgin. He struggled to free himself, but she clung to him like ivy on a stone fence.
In the midst of their battle, the door to the dressing room opened. When he had managed to thrash himself clear of the lovely arms that bound him, he saw a lady’s maid giggling in the doorway, the linen she had been carrying dropped in a heap at her feet. She smothered the laugh with a hand and hurried to pick up after herself, giving them a moment to regroup. By the time she looked up at them again, they were standing a respectable distance apart, trying and failing to pretend that nothing had happened.
‘I did not mean to interrupt, my lady,’ she said, focusing carefully on her mistress and doing her best to pretend that there was not another person in the room with them. ‘You are not usually in your bedroom at this hour. I did not expect...’
‘Of course you did not, Jenny,’ Margaret said, smoothing her skirts and giving the girl a tight smile. ‘And I would hope that you will not tell anyone that you saw me here today.’
The girl glanced quickly from Margaret to David and back again, and then said, ‘Of course not, my lady. I did not see anything.’
‘Thank you,’ Margaret said, obviously relieved. ‘And now, I think we can...um...continue our tour of the house, Mr Castellano.’
‘Of course,’ he said, forcing a brilliant smile on the maid and trying to act as if nothing had happened.
Then Margaret spoiled the pretended innocence of the moment by asking, ‘Did you happen to see anyone in the main hall when you were on your way to this room?’
‘No, my lady,’ the maid said. ‘The way is clear.’
‘Very good.’ She grabbed David by the arm and hauled him from her room, hurrying for the stairs.
They were silent until they were safely shut up in the music room again, then she seemed to collapse in upon herself, breathing heavily as if they had run the whole way down the stairs.
He was not much better. ‘You kissed me,’ he said, still shocked by the crash of her teeth against his, the thrust of her tongue in his mouth and her arms, locked about him in a death grip.
‘You kissed me first,’ she reminded him, pressing her hands to her cheeks as if trying to force the colour from them.
‘I am aware of that,’ he admitted, embarrassed. ‘But when we were about to be discovered, you could have stepped away. Instead, you made the situation worse rather than better.’
‘I made the situation different,’ she said, giving him a knowing look. ‘It was far more dangerous for you than for me. I wanted to even the odds.’
‘But your reputation...’
‘Will be undamaged by anyone in this house,’ she said. ‘The servants are not about to spread it through town that there was a man in my room. The worst that will happen is that they will tell my sister. But when they do, she will hear that I attacked you.’
‘That is your plan?’ he said doubtfully.
‘When Jenny entered the room, you appeared to be fighting for your life. When you did get away from me, you looked as if you had been mauled by a wild beast. The expression on your face was quite comical,’ she added with a smile.
‘I am sure it was not that bad,’ he said, trying not to think of the abject failure his first attempt at awakening her passions had been.
‘On the contrary, it could not have gone better if we had planned it in advance,’ she said. ‘And you must admit, what we found in Hugh’s room was exceptionally interesting.’
‘Interesting? Yes. But I cannot say that it makes me believe he is innocent.’
She looked crestfallen for a moment, then her smile returned. ‘There are still places for us to search and questions to be asked. We have only just begun.’
‘That is very true,’ he said. But when he looked at her, he had a hard time remembering his true purpose. He could only think of the kiss and what a delightful beginning that might be. Since he could not control his foolish thoughts, it was probably fortunate for both of them that Olivia whistled from the garden, signalling an end to their time together.
Chapter Eight
She had been given her first proper kiss, and it had been everything she had hoped for. It had not ended well, of course. But it was probably for the best that Jenny had interrupted them. Peg had had no idea how things might have ended, otherwise.
She had always assumed that only girls of weak character would be willing to throw away their virtue on a dishonourable man. But it had taken just one kiss to see how the temptation to do so might be irresistible.
The kiss she had given him in return had been purposely awkward and embarrassing for everyone concerned. But it had spared her from revealing her true feelings, which were quite different than she wished them to be.
No matter how many times she reminded herself that David Castell was a liar, a manipulator and a danger to her family, she could not seem to overcome the fact that she liked him. He seemed to grow more interesting with each visit and remained solicitous of her, despite what he felt for Hugh.
He was also a good kisser.
It was the last thing she should be focusing on. Yet she had not been able to sleep for reliving the moment that his lips had touched hers. The fact that it had happened in her bedroom made it even more difficult to rest easy. She could not stop trying to imagine what might have happened, had they not been interrupted.
* * *
The next morning, at breakfast, she abandoned her usual chocolate in favour of a cup of strong coffee, yawning into her hand as she poured it.
Fortunately, Hugh was too absorbed in the post he was reading to give her much notice. Since he would not pay attention to her, she took the opportunity to observe him, wondering what it was that people saw that convinced them he was capable of murder. To her, he still looked like the same distant older brother he had always been.
‘Hugh,’ she said, buttering a muffin and trying to be casual.
‘Whatever it is, the answer is no,’ he said, not looking up from his letter.
‘You do not even know what I am about to say,’ she said.
‘But I doubt that will change my answer,’ he said, setting the letter down beside his plate and looking at her. ‘What do you want now?’
‘Nothing,’ she assured him. ‘But I was wondering. Since you are not ready to see either Olivia or I married...’
‘We have been over that ground before,’ he said with a sigh.
She held up a hand to stop him. ‘Is there any chance that you will be marrying soon? You should be seeing to the succession, after all.’
‘Me?’ It was clear from his tone that this was the last question he had expected to hear from her. He paused for a moment, as if he had no idea how to answer. Then he replied, ‘Certainly not,’ and reached for the rest of his mail, eager to avoid further conversation.
Before he could shut her out, she said, ‘But you do need an heir. You will have to marry at some point.’
‘The thought had occ
urred to me,’ he replied, and she was surprised to see a flash of something in his eyes that looked almost like pain. ‘But there are some things that even obligation to the Crown cannot make me do. I do not plan to marry. Not soon. Not ever.’ He went back to his post, breaking the seal on the next letter to make it clear that he would be taking no more questions from her.
This was interesting. Though he would not admit to having a tragic, lost love, this complete refusal to marry was closer to a confirmation of her suspicions than she had thought to get. What could there be to put him so far off the marital sacrament that he would eschew it now and for ever?
But how was she to find the identity of the one he was pining for? Since he was a gentleman, he would be far too polite to give her the name of the girl, if she pressed for it. She could think of only two other options. She could casually mention every single woman in London until she got a response, or she could ask Olivia if she remembered anything. She doubted either of them would succeed, but she meant to keep digging, for sisterly curiosity if nothing else.
* * *
Later in the day, while they were waiting in the music room for the arrival of David Castell and Olivia’s inevitable escape, Peg took the opportunity to question her. ‘Are things going well with Alister?’ she said, to distract Liv from staring out the window.
‘As well as they ever do,’ she said with a pensive smile. ‘It would be better if Hugh were more flexible, of course.’
‘I asked him today at breakfast if he ever intends to marry, himself. He said no.’
Liv’s head snapped around to pay full attention. ‘But, of all of us, it is most important for him to do so.’
‘I know,’ Peg replied. ‘But he is adamant. For a moment, he seemed almost like a man with a broken heart.’
Liv’s response to this was to laugh out loud. ‘I did not think Hugh had a heart at all, much less one that could be broken.’
‘All the same, he behaved most strangely when I asked him about marriage. Do you think it is possible that he might be longing for a woman he cannot have?’
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