The Trouble With Seduction (16 page)

How different the waltz at the Grancliffe party had been from their romantic dance through the streets of St Giles. She thrilled at how Ravenhill had changed before her eyes. Underneath his suave charm was a brave, dark knight – shrewd, wily, protective, and strong enough to pull her up with one arm to save her from certain death.

She pressed a finger to her lips. Thinking about the sensations he’d brought to life still filled her with excitement. But in the quiet hours since yesterday’s adventure, doubts and misgivings could not be silenced.

What of Mr Ravenhill’s past?

All she knew was he’d returned a few weeks ago after years abroad. Coincidentally, about the same time her troubles began. But why had he been out of the country, and what kept him occupied? Where had he lived? Who were his friends? For all she knew she was bringing into her home a very handsome, very charming assassin. Once the elusive plans were found, would he disappear again?

Hooves and carriage wheels clattered down the fog-choked alley. An unmarked carriage pulled up, and a tall, broad-shouldered man clad in workman’s clothes stepped out. He pulled his cap low, hiding his face, and approached with a powerful stride. Only one man she knew moved with such swagger.

As he reached for the bell pull, Sarah opened the gate and grabbed his sleeve. “Quick, Mr Ravenhill.” She led him down the garden path to the side of the mansion, lifted a vine-covered trellis, and opened the heavy wooden door.

“Good morning, my lady?” His playful rumble resounded around the garden.

Her finger flew to his lips. Even though she’d decided to choose proving her innocence over possible gossip, caution had been too well ingrained for her not to heed its call.

She towed him through the door and locked it behind them. The lantern she’d left to light their way glowed weakly in the narrow, rock-lined tunnel.

“Is this a secret entrance, my lady?”

She exhaled in exasperation, and whispered, “My staff’s ears could win prizes.”

Ravenhill removed his cap and hunched under the low, curved, rock ceiling. His muscular physique filled the confined space reminding her of the tight spaces they’d encountered in the rookery. How easy it would be for her to
accidentally
brush against him. “I prefer we not be discovered.”

Lantern light caught the glint in his eyes. A moment passed before his gaze moved beyond hers and into the tunnel.

He gestured with his cap. “I confess, I’m all aquiver to begin our search.” His drawled words sounded like veiled intimacies. He seemed in a mischievous mood… and so early in the morning.

“Mr Ravenhill, please talk quietly. I fear our voices may carry.”

He dipped his head further. His warm breath tickled her ear. “Should I consider myself special… to be shown your secret entrance?”

Innuendo, coated with a healthy dose of charm, wove through the smile in his voice. Her insides started to flutter. Men had never flirted with her, and she didn’t know how to respond. Instead, she grasped the chain around her neck, grabbed the lantern and tripped down the passage. A door appeared on the right. Unlocking it, she lifted a tapestry and led him into a small chapel where she stepped to the altar and knelt.

“Do you pray for your past sins or your future ones, my lady?”

She gripped her hands under her chin. “Today I’m begging for divine help.”

One side of his mouth twitched. “Be sure and mention my name, would you?”

“Without a doubt, Mr Ravenhill.”

***

Damen was in a celebratory mood. Sarah had finally invited him to help her search her home. He’d awakened early, as was his custom, with a giddy sense of well-being. Yesterday, he and Sarah cheated death.

The experience brought his own life into sharper focus. The grooming process to prepare him to become viscount unfolded so gradually, he’d not realized how responsibility and command had so taken over his life. While impersonating Cory presented challenges, it had been freeing.

He gazed around the lovely little chapel while Sarah said her prayers.

Discovering the mansion had a hidden entrance shed an interesting light on things. He didn’t want to mention it to Sarah just yet, but such access was usually installed for secrecy and freedom of movement without observation.

When Sarah finished, she peered out the chapel’s doorway and grabbed his sleeve. “This way, Mr Ravenhill.” Her gray mourning gown gave her the look of a nervous little mouse readying to scamper along the baseboards of a surprisingly elegant marble hallway.

As they tiptoed apace, Damen took in his surroundings. Strathford Hall was exquisite.

Sunrise lit the stained-glass windows at the end of the hall shedding a kaleidoscope of colors around the walls. In the next corridor, arched doorways led to high-ceilinged rooms full of exquisite frescos, floors covered with deep carpets and dainty-legged furniture.

Now, further into the mansion, Damen heard quiet, chaotic rhythms, almost like tiny heartbeats. It gave the place a cheerful, lively hum like a busy workshop of elves. “Did Lord Strathford collect timepieces?”

“Most definitely,” Sarah whispered, breathless. “Watches, metronomes, chronometers, cuckoo clocks, sun dials, water clocks, anything and everything that parsed time.”

Windows abounded everywhere, as did statues, carved wood and gilt. In fact, had he not seen the profusion of Strathford’s inventions everywhere he looked, he wouldn’t have expected an inventor to live in such artistic grandeur.

By contrast, Falgate Hall was a dark, forbidding fortress. Few windows warmed its rock-lined rooms. Dark, drafty hallways held the chill of regret. In winter, cold could cut straight through a fur-lined coat. Even the large parlor, with its huge fireplaces, rarely achieved comfortable warmth.

Sarah led him around a corner to a heavy set of doors, chose a key from the chain around her neck, let them into a sunny office and relocked the doors. “So here we are,” she said softly.

Damen took in his surroundings. “Now this room is more to my taste.”

Spacious windows shed light on white paneling. Ionic pilasters graced the bookcases lining the walls. Faint odors of tobacco and pipe smoke pervaded the large gentleman’s office-library. Twin fireplaces sat at opposite ends of the room with several elegant desks and a scattering of cushioned armchairs in between. Damen turned, admiring the comfortable masculine retreat.

“I’m not sure where to begin. Edward often escaped here to do what he called ‘puttering’.”

Noises echoed in the outside corridor. Damen held up his hand and pointed. The sounds finally coalesced into lumbering footfalls. Before long, someone knocked.

He dashed behind the door as Sarah unlocked it and opened it a crack.

“Oh, there you are, my lady. I thought I heard your voice,” Megpeas wheezed through the gap. “I do beg your pardon. Lately, your brother and Lord Lumsley have taken to visiting unexpectedly. Should I have Cook prepare extra just in case?”

Sarah let out a breath. “Good thinking, Megpeas. Yes, that would be the safest, I dare say. If they don’t
pop by
there is sure to be someone else who would welcome a good meal.”

“Very good, my lady, I’ll tell her.”

Damen finally relaxed when the butler’s footsteps receded down the hall. “In this vast mansion, how would he know you were here?” He knew she feared gossip, and in truth, he preferred their friendship remain secret. The fewer who knew, the less chance they’d be caught unawares by unwelcome surprises.

Sarah gazed about forlornly and rubbed her forehead. “I asked Megpeas where he thought Lord Strathford might have put the plans. He suggested this office. My husband only allowed Megpeas to clean it, and always kept it locked. I haven’t had the heart to come in here since… well, anyway, if he made drawings or took out patents for his inventions, this is probably where he’d have done it.”

“Did you tell anyone I’d be here today?”

“No! And I’d like to keep it that way.”

***

Sarah strode to the nearest desk and riffled through the papers. Megpeas’ ill-timed inquiry had rattled her as well. After her mother’s untimely death, he and Gracie had nearly become her second set of parents. She knew she could trust them with her secrets, but she didn’t want to disappoint them. When her father’s edicts failed, upsetting Gracie and Megpeas had checked any residual impulses. Until now.

“Let’s start with the desks. Hopefully Edward dated his papers. I suggest we concentrate on those from at least three years ago. That is when he became too busy to…” She nearly said “too busy to come to my bed”, but caught herself. “About that time he became very tight-lipped about the project he was working on.”

Damen moved to the desk with the tallest piles and briefly examined the drawers before attacking the papers. After searching several stacks, he grumbled, “Scratches. Jam smears. Equations. Scribbles. Tea stains. That about sums up these papers. Do you really think he would have left items of a
sensitive nature
in plain sight?”

For some reason the words
sensitive nature
caused an image of the secret seraglio to take form in Sarah’s mind. In that image Mr Ravenhill lay sprawled among the furs. Heat rose up her collar. She fidgeted with a paper in her hand. “The only room in this mansion I knew Edward did not want me in was this one. Therefore, I can only assume this is where he kept his secrets.”

Ravenhill gazed appreciatively about the library. “You have a very interesting home, my lady. Clearly generations have invested in its artistry.”

“All compliments must go to Lord Merristone and his ancestors. Strathford bought this place a few years ago.” She picked up another piece of paper and scanned its contents.

Ravenhill moved to the side of her desk, folded his arms over his chest and reclined against it. “May I assume from the tunnel I entered that there are more secret places about this house?”

Sarah’s skin prickled at his nearness and the way his voice deepened.

“Perhaps there are closets, other passageways, or even hidden rooms?” He leaned in to gaze about her face and tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. “I’m not saying your husband would purposely hide the plans, but in a house this size, there seems ample room for secret, hidden places.”

Was she imagining it or were little sparks passing between them. She chewed on her lip. Of course the mansion had its hidey-holes. But she was not about to show a certain room to Mr Ravenhill. That would be far too intimate. And she wished its image would stop plaguing her. She reached out to pick up another piece of paper.

He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “Am I right?”

Her breath caught.

He kissed her knuckles, her forefinger, the tip, down the inside, and the ‘V’ between her two fingers. “Secret… hidden places,” he whispered.

“W… with a mansion this large and frequently remodeled,” she shivered, “it… it’s possible.”

In an effort to calm her pulse, she dragged her hand from his and quickly turned to the cabinet behind. “Perhaps I’ll have a look in here.” She pulled out the top drawer. Papers of all sizes had been carelessly stuffed inside. “Do you know the invention’s name, Mr Ravenhill?”

He didn’t answer, following her every move with an intensity that set her insides aquiver. Neither of her deceased husbands, even at their most amorous, had gazed upon her with such avid interest.

“I assume it might be called something like ‘tiny engine’,” he drawled.

“Oh, it would be more inventive than that. Edward liked naming things.” Ravenhill’s potent gaze had her hands trembling as if palsied. She pulled open the next drawer to find the same unruly organization. With the bottom drawer, she yanked too hard and dragged it completely out onto the floor. Something inside made an odd sound.

Curious, she scooped out the papers. Though identical to the other drawers, on moving it she could hear a distinct rattle. She retrieved Edward’s letter opener and pried up a board. On lifting another, she stifled a gasp.

“What did you find?” Ravenhill stepped forward.

“Oh, nothing,” she squeaked. She quickly replaced the boards and stuffed handfuls of papers back on top.
Heavens!
The false bottom held what looked to be more of Edward’s naughty toys. Why did he have so many?

She tried to distract Ravenhill by marching over to the bookshelves.

Leather-bound notebooks tucked into the far corner of a shelf caught her eye. The first she pulled out contained several large pieces of paper tucked inside. Unfolding them, she recognized the design for the Pony Rocket. Edward’s careful lines and precise penmanship revealed several different designs, apparently to accommodate the mechanism inside. The paper underneath had the Buzzy Bee’s design.

“What do you have there?” Damen whispered over her shoulder.

Sarah startled. “Dear me, I didn’t hear you approach.”

“Those pages look promising. What do you think they are?”

His heat warmed her back as he loomed over her and peered down at the drawings.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” she lied, and hastily refolded them.

“No. Let me see.” He took the plans from her and held them out to study. “How odd. It appears this little contraption has an outer shell and an inner mechanism with cogs and wheels. I’d say it resembles the inner workings of a clock. But if this was a clock, I should think it’d have hands and a face.”

“You might have noticed my husband had a passion for timepieces. These are probably unfinished plans for more clocks.” She tugged the papers out of his hands and refolded them.

“Wait a minute, I need to study them a little more. Something about the drawing on the second page looks familiar.”

“No doubt it resembles one of our clocks.” She put the final fold in the paper, tucked it under her arm and turned to him. “Have you found anything promising in the cabinet?”

Ravenhill placed one hand on the bookshelf behind her head. With the other he ran his finger lightly along the folded papers under her arm. “Why are you in such a hurry to put these away?”

“We’ve still so many places to check,” she said a little too brightly. “I can tell these plans aren’t for an engine, merely one of Edward’s little inventions to parse time.”