Seduction Becomes Her (30 page)

“Doubt it,” said Charles cheerfully from his position in the lead. “These are thick and stout walls, and they have stood for centuries. I’m sure they’ll stand long enough for us to explore.”

Adrian, following directly behind Charles, said defensively, “Of course they will! Beaumont Place is well-built.” As they negotiated another twist in the staircase, he asked, “Where do you think this leads? What do you think we’ll find?”

“Most likely, it will lead to the outside,” Julian replied from his position at the rear. “But it could lead us to another passage or a room where the troops were garrisoned.”

“Or a dungeon,” Charles said, remembering another time, another staircase.

“Or a dungeon,” Julian agreed grimly, beset by the same memories. This staircase was more ancient, but it was eerily similar.

Lifting his candle to inspect the upper reaches of the staircase, Marcus said, “I say! Look up there! Along the outer wall. See that narrow ledge beneath those boarded up spaces? I’ll wager if the boards were taken down, you’d find archer slits.”

After finding a few more identical areas along the wall, they agreed that Marcus was right.

Staring thoughtfully at the heavy slabs of wood that covered the archer slits, Charles said, “If those timbers were removed, the sun could reach inside and light the place, which makes sense. I wondered why there was no outside light at all.”

“It would also allow fresh air,” said Julian.

Frowning, Adrian asked, “But how did the archers get up there? And why build their stands so high above the stairs?”

“No doubt they used ladders to get up there,” answered Marcus. “Once the archers were in place, the ladders could be placed against the wall out of the way, still allowing the stairs to be used for troops and supplies when they were under attack.”

Adrian sighed ecstatically. “This is bloody marvelous! I cannot wait to climb up there and see for myself.”

Gingerly, they traversed the stairs. Charles became aware almost immediately that the lower they went, the colder it became. Fighting off the chill he felt even beneath his fine wool jacket, he reminded himself it was simply the natural airflow and
not
something connected with the supernatural. He was being imaginative, he decided wryly, but he couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t also uneasy.

The staircase made a sharp turn, and rounding the corner, they discovered a landing. The landing was large enough for all four men to stand comfortably on it, and pausing in their explorations, they stopped to examine the area. A close look at the inner wall brought a frown to Charles’s face.

Running his hands over the stonework, he said, “I’ll wager that there was an opening here once.” His fingers lingered on the iron remnants of a wall sconce. A quick glance revealed another one less than six feet away. “These must have been on either side of a door or hallway. My guess is that there was once a chamber here.”

As if a door to the Arctic had blown open, Charles was assailed by bone-biting cold that took his breath away. Imaginative or not, the icy sensation was unnatural and too familiar for his liking, and the back of his neck prickled. Cautiously, he glanced around, relieved not to find a ghostly presence hovering behind him. And which one, he wondered grimly, would it be? Sir Wesley? Or Katherine?

“Christ!” Julian said, breaking into his thoughts. “Is it just me, or is anyone else freezing? It feels like the middle of a December snowstorm in here.”

“I agree,” said Marcus. Puzzled, he looked around. “It wasn’t that way a moment ago.”

“No, it wasn’t,” remarked Adrian. He looked at Charles. “Reminds me of Mrs. Darby’s trick that night. Remember how cold the room got?”

“I don’t think this is a trick,” Charles said levelly. And how in the bloody hell am I going to explain that it might very well be a ghost?

“Perhaps a section of the wall has fallen,” offered Marcus. “That would explain this blast of icy air.”

“Perhaps,” Charles agreed, knowing that it hadn’t. I should have asked Goodson for his crucifix, he thought bitterly, because no conventional weapon will stop Sir Wesley.

Shrugging off the cold, Marcus came to stand beside Charles and studied the wall that had first caught his attention. After a long moment, he said, “Do you know, I believe you’re right about a chamber having once been here. The stone
is
different. Even the masonry work is different.”

Julian, too, having apparently accepted the cold as normal, held his candle nearer for a better look. Nodding, he said, “It appears to have been done at a later date. There were always renovations being done to these old places. This could have been where they kept the weapons or a guardroom. It’s possible, in the early days, when the keep was smaller, it might even have been the lord’s antechamber or bedroom. Who knows?”

His blue eyes glittering with suppressed excitement, Adrian said, “By Jove! I wish we had brought a sledgehammer with us. There is no telling what we might find behind that wall.” A reverent note in his voice, he breathed, “There could be a secret treasure room….”

Deciding he had no choice but to act as oblivious to the iciness of the passage as the others, Charles tamped down his unease and clapped Adrian on the shoulder. Forcing a smile, he said, “Or simply an empty space with nothing but mice droppings in it.”

Adrian grinned ruefully. “You are probably right, but I want to know what is on the other side.”

“Your house,” Charles said. “You can do what you want with it.”

“If Daphne lets me,” Adrian muttered.

“I think your sister will be as curious as you.”

Adrian’s face brightened. “Yes. And since
she’s
already destroyed one wall in my house, what is one more?”

The flames of the candles danced wildly as another gust of glacial air swirled around them, and startled, Julian glanced over his shoulder, demanding of no one in particular, “What the bloody hell was that?”

“Probably just the air currents coming up from below,” Marcus said dismissively, turning back to look at the wall.

Charles considered disabusing him of that notion, but deciding an explanation, especially the explanation he would give, would most likely gain him a pair of manacles in Bedlam, he kept his mouth shut. Anxiety built up inside him, though, a sense of impending danger climbing through him. The wall needed to be examined—he didn’t deny it or that it was more than probable a room lay behind it. He just wished he had Goodson’s crucifix in his vest pocket. His mouth tightened. He didn’t, and his only choice at the moment was to get everyone the hell out of here.

Abruptly, he said, “I think we have seen enough for tonight. I’m sure the ladies are wondering what is taking us so long.”

“But we haven’t even reached the bottom yet!” protested Adrian.

Julian sent Charles a curious glance. “I’m sure that a few minutes more won’t make a difference.”

“And I’d like to take a better look at this wall before we move on,” said Marcus.

Defeated, Charles shrugged his shoulders. Perhaps he was overreacting. Maybe the cold was normal. Maybe he was imagining things…or not.

The wall fascinated Marcus and Julian, and with Adrian crowding behind them, they continued to poke and prod at it. Clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering, Charles looked carefully around the landing, but to his relief, no ghostly manifestations met his gaze. Yet.

“I do believe that there is something behind this section of wall,” Julian said at last, stepping back from the wall. He smiled at Adrian. “Whether it may be a treasure room or not remains to be seen.”

“We will find out tomorrow,” vowed Adrian excitedly. “It is my house, and I want to know what is behind that wall. First thing in the morning, we shall return, tear open some of those archer slits for better light, and then break through this wall and see what is behind it.”

Without warning, a powerful blast of icy air slammed into them, and the candles winked out. Charles sensed a malevolent force surging in the blackness just before he was thrown against the wall. In the darkness, Adrian cried out, and there was the terrifying sound of a body plunging down the stairs.

Cursing, with shaking fingers, Charles relit his candle. Blood leaked into his eye, and he swiped it away, realizing that he had cut his head when he hit the stone wall. Uncaring of the blood that trickled down one side of his face, he looked anxiously around the landing. One lightning glance showed that Adrian was missing. Dreading what he would find, he held his candle up and looked down the twisting staircase. No corpse met his gaze, but he could picture Adrian’s body tumbling end over end…. His heart pumping in hard, painful bursts, he rushed down the stairs.

The steps seemed endless, and Charles pushed back the panic that churned in his chest. Dear God, did this staircase ever end? A groan came from the darkness ahead of him, and aware that it would do Adrian no good if in his haste, he trampled him, Charles slowed his progress. “Adrian,” he called out. “I am coming to you.”

Edging cautiously around a curve, Charles found Adrian crumpled on another landing much smaller than the one above. The boy’s body was partially wedged against the stone wall, and when Charles stepped onto the landing, Adrian moaned again and half-sitting up, cradled his arm next to his body.

Kneeling down beside him, Charles asked softly, “How bad is it?”

The face Adrian turned to him made Charles suck in his breath in dismay. Blood flowed freely from nasty cuts on his temple and forehead, there was a wide scrape along one cheek, and his lower lip was busted. Other bruises were already popping out, but the main thing was that he was alive.

Flashing a wan smile, Adrian mumbled, “I think my arm is broken…and I may have hurt my ankle.”

Julian and Marcus arrived on Charles’s heels, and the three men quickly ascertained, aside from the broken arm, a banged up ankle, and a multitude of cuts and bruises, that Adrian was unharmed. He would be sore for several days and most likely, limping for a while, and the arm would take weeks to mend, but he had been lucky. He was alive.

Charles ripped off his cravat and fashioned a sling for Adrian’s arm. They could do nothing about the blood until they returned to the main part of the house.

Adrian was oh, so gently helped to his feet. He was unsteady, and it was obvious that while nothing else was broken, his entire body had taken a beating, and his ankle was painful. With Charles on one side of him, Marcus in the lead, and Julian following behind, the four slowly made their way up the stairs. The return journey seemed forever, Adrian leaning more heavily on Charles with every step they took.

After a few moments, Adrian said in a very young voice, “Daffy is going to be mad as fire. She wanted us to wait.”

Charles smiled. “Your sister will be so happy that I am not returning your corpse to her that I don’t think you have anything to fear.” He gave a mock shudder. “It is my fate you should worry over—I was the one who overrode her wishes.”

Adrian gave a weak chuckle. “That’s true. But you have nothing to fear—you’ll talk her ’round in time. Everyone knows that she adores you. You can see it on her face when she looks at you.”

Feeling as if he’d been poleaxed, Charles stopped so suddenly he nearly jerked Adrian off his feet. Adrian’s startled yelp brought him quickly to his senses, and apologizing profusely, he made his feet move one in front of the other. The remainder of the trek passed by Charles in a daze. Adrian thought Daphne adored him? How could that be? Did she? Dizzying delight swelled in his chest. Was it possible? Daphne loved him?

Marcus passed through the doorway into Daphne’s bedchamber first. It had been decided that he should warn the women before they saw Charles and Adrian’s bloodied faces. At the sight of Marcus, the ladies, who had been scattered around the room conversing desultorily, leaped to their feet.

“Did you find something exciting?” asked Nell, smiling.

“Er, no,” Marcus said. “There was an accident.”

Nell’s smile vanished. “Julian?” she asked in breathless accents.

Marcus shook his head, his eyes flitting to Daphne.

Daphne’s heart stuttered in her breast, and feeling as if she might faint, she demanded, “Charles? Where is he? Take me to him!” She took a deep breath and asked fearfully, “Is he alive?”

“Oh, it is nothing so serious as that! I didn’t mean to alarm you. Everyone is fine,” Marcus said hastily. “Well, not exactly fine,” he corrected, wondering why he had to be the one to spread the bad news. “Adrian took the worst of it—his arm is broken, and his ankle is hurt.”

Adrian and Charles staggered through the doorway, and at the sight of Charles’s blood-streaked face, Daphne cried out, “Oh, Charles! My love! What has happened to you?” Oblivious to anything but Charles’s tall form, she rushed across the room to him.

Clutching his arm, she stared into his face. “If anything had happened to you…” She fought back the emotion that clogged her throat. He was safe, and that was all mattered.

“It is only a cut on my eyebrow,” Charles said, his eyes locked on her. “Adrian is in far worse shape.”

“Is he?” she asked distractedly, barely sparing a glance at her brother who was being tenderly lowered onto a chair by Julian and Marcus; April and Miss Ketty hovered around him.

“Your poor face,” she said, her gaze returning to him.

Charles touched his eyebrow and winced. “I’ve had worst wounds.” He grinned. “And it was worth it. Daphne, that staircase is fascinating! We discovered ledges where archers stood and the slits they used to fire down on the enemy. Best of all, we think we’ve found a hidden chamber!”

Exultation flooding him, Charles stared tenderly at her. He didn’t want to talk about his wounds or even the damned staircase and what they had found. What he wanted was to sweep her up into his arms and spirit her away from the others to a private place. A place where they could explore all the interesting possibilities raised by Adrian’s comments. It hadn’t escaped his attention either that she wasn’t paying the least heed to her brother. All her attention and concern was for
him!
The compulsion to drag her into his embrace and declare himself was nearly overwhelming, and all he could do, he admitted disgustedly, was stand here babbling about the damned staircase, grinning like an idiot.