The Lady In Question (33 page)

“Anything for adventure,” she murmured.

“And your blindfold resembles bandages; I was most solicitous, I might add; and we went directly from the carriage to —”

“To…what?” She adopted as innocent a manner now as she had the last dozen or so times she’d asked.

He laughed. “I will say this for you, you are a stubborn creature. Surely you didn’t expect me to tell you this close to the end?”

“One never knows what to expect during an adventure,” she said loftily.

“As I was saying, thanks to the lateness of the hour, we have not encountered many people at all, save for the excellent gentlemen I arranged this particular adventure with and the equally helpful gentleman who is guiding our way with a lantern even now. I have explained to them you have had something of an accident.” He stopped, his voice lowered, and drew closer. “With a camel. Very tragic. You have their sympathy.”

“I quite deserve their sympathy.” She laughed.

All in all, his refusal to tell her what was afoot did indeed heighten her anticipation. Save for the fact that they were never going to reach the top of whatever they were climbing, not knowing and even not being able to see added to her excitement.

She smiled to herself. Not that he needed to put either of them through this kind of exertion for either excitement or adventure. He had already provided a great deal of both today.

“What are you grinning about?”

“You do realize, if I put my mind to it, I could determine exactly where we are by simply keeping track of the number of steps we’ve climbed and then proceed to eliminate structures that do not conform to my calculations?”

“I daresay you could. So have you been keeping track of the steps, then?”

“I didn’t say I have, I said I could have.”

Delia was, in fact, a touch confused and far too excited to do anything rational like keep count of endless numbers of steps. Besides, she hadn’t thought of it until they’d already climbed a considerable distance. She had noted, though, that it wasn’t a continuous climb. Their upward trek would stop briefly for progress on a level surface, then they’d head heavenward again. She was certain at one point they’d been on a spiral stair and right now negotiated a steep and winding stair. Still, it was difficult to give serious consideration to the question of where she was when she was intent on climbing without mishap while not panting for breath like an overexcited hound in the process. By the curve and the climb, she at first suspected he might have taken her up in a lighthouse, but, even though they drove for a good hour before reaching their destination, she thought it was simply a ruse and was confident they had not left the city. Therefore, they had to be in a building within the confines of London. A very tall building. One conducive to never ending stairs, winding and twisting upward. Toward the heavens.

The heavens.
Of course. The answer struck her and she was rather annoyed she hadn’t thought of it before. It had to be St. Paul’s. She was aware one could climb high up to a gallery on the outside of the dome, but she had never had occasion or the desire to do so. The only remaining question was why Tony was taking her here. For the life of her, she could not remember what adventures she had blurted out to him in the heat of passion. Although, in truth, it really didn’t matter. Nor did this morning’s encounter with Bess. The mere fact that the man was willing to go to such efforts to arrange for her to do things she had never done was the most wonderful thing anyone had ever done for her. The most wonderful thing she could ever imagine anyone doing for her. And quite obviously the act of a man in love.

“We’re here.” Tony’s voice was light, but she suspected he was as relieved to at last reach their destination as she.

She heard the sound of a heavy door being pulled open and a cool breeze wafted over her.

“There you are, my lord,” the guide said, his voice accompanied by a jingle of keys. “I’ll stay behind here but will be right by the door if you need me.” The man lowered his voice but not quite enough to prevent her from hearing. “Begging your pardon, sir, but is it wise, do you think, to take a lady who can’t see to a spot like this?”

“It’s something she’s never done and I promised I would bring her here long before” — regret sounded in Tony’s voice — “the accident.”

“But it’d be my fault were she to fall, sir. And not being able to see and all, she could tumble right over the railing before you know it.”

“Never fear, my good man, I shall make certain nothing of the kind happens.” Tony wrapped his arm around her waist and escorted her forward.

Even without the sound of the door squeaking closed a bit behind them, she would have known they were outside. Perhaps it was a difference in the sound of Tony’s voice or an immediate sense of openness, but she knew they were on the outside of the cathedral dome.

“Let me think.” He paused, then turned her and shifted her over a few steps. “Excellent. Now stay still.” He moved from her side to stand behind her, never completely letting her go, for which she was extremely grateful. She was not especially scared of heights, but the idea of standing where she thought she was standing, with a blindfold over her eyes, was the stuff panic was made of. Although, admittedly, it was quite exciting.

“First, the hat must go.” He carefully untied the ribbons of her hat and pulled it off her head. His voice sounded beside her ear, an audible caress. “Are you ready?”

“I am indeed.” Eagerness sounded in her voice and anticipation surged through her veins.

“Very well.”

Delia felt his fingers work at the blindfold’s knot at the back of her head, then the strip of fabric fell free. She opened her eyes and gasped.

The world stretched out at her feet.

“Oh, my.”

He wrapped an arm firmly around her waist, anchoring her against him, and a warm sense of security and belonging washed through her. With his free hand, he gestured toward the west. “There, Delia, there’

s your sunset.”

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, leaving in its wake slashes of light and color. A trail or a pathway or a memory of the day just ended. Brilliant white and blinding yellows, chased by rose, faded to blue and hung at the edge of the sky, the boundary between today and tonight.

“It’s…” She could barely get the words out. “It’s magnificent.”

“You said you wanted to stand on the top of the world and watch the sun set.”

“Of course,” she murmured, vaguely remember saying something of the kind. Never imagining he could possibly make it come true. Never dreaming he would.

“You like it, then?” Tony said softly.

Something akin to awe gripped her. “I can see forever.”

“Not quite forever.”

“But almost.” Excitement rose in her voice. “Look, Tony, there’s the British Museum, and over there is Westminster Abbey, and oh, I can see the Thames, of course, and Buckingham House, I think.” She stepped out of his embrace, grabbed his hand and started around the narrow gallery.

“Do be careful, Delia. Our guide would never forgive me if you should keel over the side.”

“I have no intention of doing anything of the sort.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

“I never have been before.” He stepped nearer to the balustrade, peered over the side and shuddered. “Of course, I have never been at this great a height before. We are approximately two hundred and eighty feet up.”

“And it’s quite marvelous isn’t it? Why, I feel as if I could do anything up here, even fly if I so wished.”

“Only because nothing seems particularly real up here.”

“Exactly. It feels as if anything is possible. As if we were in an entirely different world.” She gazed out over the city. Lights were just beginning to twinkle on. “I would like to fly someday. I should really add it to my list.”

“And I shall have to burn that list,” Tony muttered. “Personally, I don’t believe man was meant to fly. I think he was meant to keep his feet firmly on the ground.”

“And I agree that man should keep his feet firmly on the ground, but only when it comes to camels.”

Delia laughed and linked her arm through his. The gallery walkway was no more than a yard in width, just wide enough to allow them to walk side by side.

“Oh, and do you see the Tower? I’m certain my house is too small to be seen from here, but I imagine we could probably find Effington House. I daresay, if it wasn’t getting dark, we could probably see clear to the sea and beyond. Why, all the way to America, I should think.”

“And, no doubt, to France on the other side.”

Delia ignored the teasing note in his voice. “No doubt. Such a pity we’re losing the light. There are so many things I should like to see while we’re up here.” She squeezed his arm. “This is indeed a grand adventure.”

“There is one thing more I wish you to see.” Tony led her to the east side of the gallery. In this direction, the horizon was already the darker blue of night and stars were just beginning to appear. He stepped behind her, pointed her toward the east, then wrapped his arms around her. “There you are.”

She stared into the deepening darkness. “It’s wonderful, Tony. Indeed, it’s all wonderful, but I don’t understand.”

“The stars, Delia, you said you wanted to touch them. I fear this is as close as I could get you.”

Her breath caught and the back of her throat ached. She resisted the immediate urge to cry. She’d never been so affected by a gift before. Of course, she’d never had a gift like this. He’d laid London and the world at her feet and offered her the stars. It was indeed a grand adventure.

She swallowed hard. “It’s perfect.”

He laughed softly and rested his chin on her head. “I daresay everything looks perfect from up here. At the level of the heavens it’s impossible to see the problems of those toiling on the streets. From up here, everything and everyone looks insignificant.”

“Then at least until we return to the ground, everything is perfect,” she said staunchly.

“Perfection is an illusion.”

“Nonsense.” She drew a deep breath. “At this very moment, my life is perfect, and that’s not at all an illusion. It may well be something of a miracle. There was a time, you know, when I didn’t think life could ever be so much as pleasant again. Now I am standing on the top of the world and have been given the chance to touch the stars by the man I love.”

He pulled her tighter against him. “Do you love me, Delia?”

“Yes, Anthony St. Stephens, I believe I do.” She waited for his response. “Tony?”

“Yes?”

“It’s your turn.”

“My turn for what?” he asked innocently.

“Tony!”

“I thought laying the world at your feet said far more than mere words could ever say.”

“Sometimes words are a nice touch.”

“Very well, then.” He sighed dramatically and turned her around to face him. “Philadelphia Effington Wilmont, I do indeed love you.” Tony took her hands in his. “I love your absurd desire for adventure and your equally fervent desire to break rules even if you find it difficult to do so. I love your kindness and your sense of responsibility toward those in your employ.”

His gaze searched hers. “I love your curiosity and the way you raise your chin when you’re determined and how you wring your hands together when you’re nervous. I love your clever mind and your good heart. I love the way you admit your mistakes and continue on, and most of all, I love the courage I don’t think you realize you have. And I cannot think of anything that would ever stop me from loving you.”

She gazed up into his eyes and saw the stars, her stars, reflected there. “And there is nothing that would ever stop me from loving you.”

“Are you certain of that?” A teasing smile lifted his lips, but his voice was oddly intense.

“I have never been more certain of anything in my life.”

He raised a brow. “What if I were to do something truly vile?”

“I would forgive you,” she said loftily.

“What if I have already done something truly vile? In the past, that is?”

“I would suspect former spies have any number of vile things in their past that I neither wish to hear about nor is it my business to hear about. However, short of confessing that you have a wife and seven children stowed away somewhere” — she lifted her shoulder in a gracious shrug — “I can’t imagine anything you might have done that I could not forgive you for.”

“Not anything?” He studied her for a long moment. Far too long. Unease fluttered in her stomach.

“What if I were to have, oh, say…”

“Yes?” She held her breath.

“Something like, oh, a dozen children, not merely seven, and more than one wife? Would that be forgivable as well?”

“I don’t know.” She bit back a laugh of relief and shook her head solemnly.

“You don’t like children, then? I was hoping we’d have a dozen of our own.”

“Oh, I quite like children, although a dozen may be about eight or so too many. It’s the wives I would have difficulty with.” She studied him curiously. “Do you have any wives or children lying about?”

“I don’t believe so, but…” His brow furrowed in thought, then he shook his head. “No, no I’m fairly certain I have not misplaced either wives or children.”

“Anything else I should know? This is probably an excellent moment and a rather appropriate place for confession.”

He laughed. “I daresay I’m not any better at confession than you.”

“Even so, this is your opportunity. Possibly the only one I shall ever give you.” She slid her hands up to en-twine behind his neck. “Reveal your sins, Lord St. Stephens, purge your soul, tell me everything.”

Again he paused a shade longer than she deemed necessary. It was unnerving but probably nothing more than his past work that made him appear reluctant to divulge all. Perfectly understandable. This was a man who more than likely spent years unable to reveal anything whatsoever. Perhaps someday he could tell her his long-hidden secrets.