His Scandalous Kiss: Secrets at Thorncliff Manor: 6 (29 page)

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“A few weeks ago,” Spencer said, “Sarah and I found an earring in one of the tunnels. Lady Duncaster insists that it belonged
to the Duchess of Marveille, offering further proof that the box of heirlooms our grandmother was meant to receive did indeed
arrive here. With your recent findings in mind, Heartly, I would suggest that we start conducting a more thorough search.”

The door to the salon swung open at that moment, revealing a rather befuddled looking Earl of Montsmouth. “I . . . ah . . .
forgive me for intruding. I was not aware that the room was occupied.” Stepping back, he shut the door as quickly as he had
opened it, his arrival and departure so hasty that it was as if he’d never been there at all.

“That was odd,” Sarah commented after a moment of silence.

“I have always found him to be a bit of a strange fellow,” Spencer said. “Pleasant enough, but definitely one of my more peculiar
acquaintances.”

“Regarding the box,” Chloe said, bringing everyone’s attention back to the subject at hand, “I would like to try and find
it before we leave Thorncliff.”

“Agreed,” Richard stated. “As long as Lady Duncaster approves, that is.”

Lady Duncaster gave an elaborate shrug. “None of you seemed to require my permission before when you decided to go sneaking
around secret passageways, looking through the attic or going through my late husband’s and father-in-law’s personal belongings.”
She held up a hand, silencing their attempts to explain. “The point is that I will allow you to continue your quest on one
condition—that you also do your best to find out who the fourth member of The Cardinals was and how my father-in-law and your
grandfather died.”

“We know that their ship capsized,” Spencer said.

Lady Duncaster shook her head. “A mere detail, I can assure you.” When nobody spoke, she added, “With Mr. and Mrs. Heartly’s
recent discoveries in mind, I suspect that the shipwreck was not an accident at all, but that my father-in-law and your grandfather
were both murdered.”

Although she knew that Richard had suspected this too, Mary couldn’t help but notice how rigid he’d gone when Lady Duncaster
had made this final pronouncement. Reaching for his hand, she leaned slightly closer to him and whispered, “We will figure
this out together.”

He relaxed with a deep exhalation. “We will certainly try.”

Glancing up, she caught the sparkle in his eyes and instinctively squeezed his hand. “Sounds like another adventure.”

The edge of his mouth twitched. “Perhaps this time there will be a ghost at the bottom of a pit.”

She shuddered at the thought of it even as she smiled. “Will you rescue me if there is?”

“Of course,” he murmured, his gaze holding hers as the rest of the world shrank away. “I will always do so, Mary, my angel
of the night.”

Epilogue

London, 1821

Seated on a plush velvet seat in the Oakland box at the King’s Theatre, Mary stared down at the stage on which she’d stood
so many times before. It almost seemed like a distant memory now with all that had happened since her last performance. Leaning
back, she turned toward her husband, his expression somewhat anxious as he gazed out over the crowd. “Don’t be nervous,” she
whispered as she reached for his hand and laced her fingers through his. “There is no reason for it.”

He nodded tightly, paused for a second, and then dipped his head toward hers. “Muzio Clementi is here.” Jerking his chin a
little, he indicated the spot where the Italian composer was seated.

“I would consider that a compliment if I were you,” she said, raising her opera glasses for a closer look.

“He has played with Mozart,” Richard stated. “Indeed, it is a well-known fact that Mozart borrowed Clementi’s B-flat major
sonata for the overture of
The Magic Flute
!”

Slanting a look in Richard’s direction, Mary couldn’t help but smile. “From what I hear, Mozart was not the least bit impressed
by Clementi.” She brushed her thumb against the top of his hand in an effort to reassure him. “You are ready for this, Richard.
The pieces you have written are absolutely marvelous, and if Clementi fails to realize this, then I daresay there must be
something wrong with his hearing.”

He laughed at that. “In truth, the only opinion that matters to me is yours.”

“And I adore your music,” she said. “So does Katharine, by the way. Your playing never fails to soothe her.”

He smiled lovingly at the mention of his daughter’s name. “Perhaps we should start considering a brother for her.” His hand
closed warmly around Mary’s, the look in his eyes more mischievous than before.

She couldn’t help the blush that followed or the jittery feeling in the pit of her belly as she gazed back up at him. The
effect he had on her was really quite scandalous. If only they didn’t have to wait three full hours until they could be alone
again.

Beneath them, the orchestra finally started to play, notes swirling through the air until they soared high above them, dancing
beneath the ceiling. A woman appeared on the stage, her voice accompanying the song just as Mary’s had done so many times
before.

“She is very good,” Mary whispered, aware of the audience’s rapt attention. It filled her heart with pride and happiness,
because experience told her that this was going to be one of those performances that people would speak of for years after—Mr. Heartly’s
first showing of
The Masquerade.

“Perhaps,” he murmured with a shrug. “But she is not you, and in my eyes, nobody else can possibly compare.”

“You spoil me with your flattery.” She spoke with laughter in her voice.

Raising her hand to his lips he placed a tender kiss upon her knuckles. “Would you rather I stop doing so?”

“Only if you wish to divest me of my vanity.”

His eyes darkened a fraction. “I can think of a number of things that I would like to divest you of, my lady, but your vanity
is not one of them.” His voice was low, rippling through her and heightening her awareness. “No one is more modest than you,
Mary. You are perfection in every conceivable way.”

“As are you,” she whispered back, “which makes us very fortunate indeed to have found one another. Can you imagine the alternative?”

Chuckling lightly, he shook his head. “Indeed I cannot.”

Neither could Mary. The way in which they had met and the events that had happened since, seemed to have been orchestrated
with the sole purpose of leading them both to this exact moment in time. It was miraculous, in a way, given the odds initially
stacked against them.

With her hand placed comfortably in her husband’s, Mary closed her eyes and allowed the music to guide her back to Thorncliff,
to the night of the masquerade and to when they’d first met. He’d been a stranger then, asking to share her company. Now,
little more than a year later, he had become the most constant part of her life—the father of her child and the only man she
would ever love, until her dying day.

Author’s Note

I’m always surprised by some of the incredible information that I come across during the course of writing a book. When I
began work on this one, I knew that I wanted my heroine to be a covert opera singer, but in order for the plot to work and
for her to be able to support her brother financially, her income had to be substantial. So I began digging until I came across
Angelica Catalani on whom I’ve based my heroine.

Unlike Mary, Angelica was not of noble birth but the daughter of a tradesman. She debuted at the opera in Venice at the age
of sixteen—the beginning of a career that would span for almost thirty years and with a voice so full, powerful and clear
that Angelica was capable of executing even the most difficult songs with a natural charm that has rarely been equaled since.

As her fame grew, Angelica traveled throughout Europe, oftentimes by royal request. She arrived in England in 1806 where she
signed her first engagement with the King’s Theatre in Haymarket at a salary of £2,000 for her first season, equivalent to
almost $178,000 today. Now, I know that Mary mentions much higher earnings (£5,000 per annum with a total profit of £16,700
after including additional revenue received from tours). These numbers are actually an accurate reflection of Angelica Catalani’s
earnings for the year 1807, an astounding $1,483,893.89 today and an exorbitant sum for any single artist to receive during
that period.

Other references to historical figures in the book include Mr. Taylor who managed the King’s Theatre from 1793 until 1821
and Mr. Thomas Young whom I took the liberty of including as Lady Foxworth’s potential love interest. He was an incredible
scientist during the Regency period, a polyglot who established the wave theory of light and provided the translation of the
Rosetta stone that made it possible to decipher the ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs. Additionally, he described the characteristics
of elasticity, developed a formula for determining the drug dosage for children and has even been called the founder of physiological
optics.

Personally, I’m fascinated by these real-life stories and simply love incorporating them into my books, not only because I
want to share my findings with my readers, but also because I feel as though these factual tidbits help in the portrayal of
the time period in which I’m writing.

I hope that you agree.

Acknowledgments

Writing is a continuous learning experience—a journey of the imagination—and because of this, there are moments when I find
myself stumbling, overthinking an issue, or simply coming to a complete standstill. Thankfully, I work with an extraordinary
group of people who always help me get back on my feet, point me in the right direction, or give me that extra push that I
need. Each and every one of them deserves my deepest thanks and gratitude, because when all is said and done, a book isn’t
the work of just one person, but of many.

I’d like to thank my wonderful editor, Erika Tsang and her assistant, Chelsey Emmelhainz, for being so incredibly helpful
and easy to talk to—working with both of you is an absolute pleasure!

Together with the rest of the Avon team which includes (but is far from limited to) copyeditor, Nan Reinhardt, publicists,
Katie Steinberg, Emily Homonoff, Caroline Perny, Pam Spengler-Jaffee and Jessie Edwards, and senior director of marketing,
Shawn Nicholls, they have offered guidance and support whenever it was needed. My sincerest thanks to all of you for being
so wonderful!

Another person who must be acknowledged for his talent is artist James Griffin, who has created the stunning cover for this
book, capturing not only the feel of the story but also the way in which I envisioned the characters looking—you’ve done such
a beautiful job!

To my fabulous beta readers, Dee Foster, Kathy Nye, Doris Henderson, Cerian Halford and Marla Golladay, whose insight has
been tremendously helpful in strengthening the story, thank you so much!

I would also like to thank Nancy Mayer for her assistance. Whenever I was faced with a question regarding the Regency era
that I couldn’t answer on my own, I turned to Nancy for advice. Her help has been invaluable.

My family and friends deserve my thanks as well, especially for reminding me to take a break occasionally, to step away from
the computer and just unwind—I would be lost without you.

And to you, dear reader—thank you so much for taking the time to read this story. Your support is, as always, hugely appreciated!

About the Author

Born in Denmark,
SOPHIE BARNES
spent her youth traveling with her parents to wonderful places all around the world. She’s lived in five different countries, on three different continents, and speaks Danish, English, French, Spanish, and Romanian. But, most impressive of all, she’s been married to the same man three times—in three different countries and in three different dresses. When she’s not busy dreaming up her next romance novel, Sophie enjoys spending time with her family, swimming, cooking, gardening, watching romantic comedies and, of course, reading.

Visit Sophie Barnes at
www.sophiebarnes.com
. You can also find her on Facebook and on Twitter
@BarnesSophie.

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By Sophie Barnes

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