4
So much for his promises.
Faith sighed. She’d been disgracefully direct about her desires. He’d left her at the front door of the house, kissed her hand, and walked away, not to be seen since. Her mother had said he’d been closeted in his room answering his correspondence, but surely that didn’t take all day? Everyone else had gathered in the drawing room before dinner, but not him.
Margaret was smiling as she came to sit beside her.
“Where’s your admirer this evening?”
“How would I know?”
“Oh, dear, do I detect a note of sullenness in your voice? Did the great man abandon you for another?”
“You are not amusing, sister.”
“Oh, I think I am.” She poked Faith’s arm. “What have I told you? Don’t wear your heart on your sleeve. Don’t let any man see you care for him, and don’t ever
ever
fall in love!”
“I’m not in love.”
Margaret sighed. “You are such a terrible liar, Faith. Your gaze follows him like a worshipful little puppy and he knows it. He probably encourages it.”
“I’m not unintelligent. I know he is not for me. Perhaps I am simply enjoying his company before I sink into the shadow of spinsterhood.”
Margaret patted her hand. “I won’t let that happen, Faith. I’ll make sure my husband finds a suitable husband for you too.”
“That’s very sweet of you, but maybe I don’t want to marry.”
“Not marry, and be beholden to your family for your room and board for the rest of your life? Obliged to tend to their sickness, their children, their orders? No woman wants that, love.”
Faith had no answer for that. She didn’t want to end up alone, but if she couldn’t have what she wanted—a man she could not only love, but respect and like, wouldn’t it be better than being married off to anyone who would have her?
Her father came in, followed by one of the footmen.
“Let’s go through to dinner, shall we?”
“But Lord Westbrook isn’t here yet,” Margaret said.
“He sent his excuses. He had to take an important letter into town for delivery to London by the Mail coach and he probably won’t be back until quite late.”
“Oh, well.” Margaret smiled beguilingly at one of the young men. “Perhaps you would escort me into dinner, Mr. Faircroft?”
Behind Faith, Robin Pelly made a huffing sound. She turned and found him scowling at her sister’s back.
“Damned popinjay.”
“Mr. Faircroft?” Faith took Robin’s reluctantly offered arm. “He seems a nice enough young man.”
“If you like an idiot with a head full of straw.”
“I believe he’s the heir to a viscount.”
“Which is why my cousin is fawning over him. I know how it is. Ever since she went up to London, her head’s been turned with all this stupid nonsense.”
“That’s not quite true, is it, Robin? She has always been quite open about wanting to marry a man with a title.”
“I thought it just words, I thought she’d—”
“Marry you? Maybe she will—if you stop glowering at her and treating her like a fool. She’s very young, Robin.”
“No, she wants none of me. She says I’ll never earn enough to keep her.”
“There is always hope. You certainly have excellent prospects at the Foreign Office.” Faith tried to sound encouraging, although she knew Robin’s chances of regaining her sister’s affections were remarkably slim. “Who knows, with the current war going on, perhaps your star will rise quickly and the king will reward your service with a title.”
“It still won’t be good enough for her.”
Robin drew out her chair, and Faith sat down and arranged her skirts.
“I’m sorry, Robin.”
His hard expression softened when he looked down at her. “It’s all right, Faith. It’s hardly your fault, is it? Please forgive my ramblings.”
“Of course.”
The meal seemed interminable without the prospect of seeing the Earl of Westbrook, as did the after-dinner games of cards and endless cups of tea. After a suitable interval passed, Faith asked to be excused, and made her way to the library to see if she could find any more books for the earl to read. Her mind was still too busy to allow her to sleep.
She also wanted to think about his offer to seduce her properly. Her words to Margaret had been true. She didn’t want to marry without respecting and loving her husband, and that seemed unlikely. Was she saving herself for an event that would never happen? Her mythical wedding night, when she married the man of her dreams? Except the earl was that man, and he’d already warned her more than once that he was a rake, and not to be trusted.
With a sigh, Faith put down the book she’d been skimming through and glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. She’d forgotten to wind it, and it had stopped at seven o’clock; it was far later than that. Picking up her shawl, she lit a single candle and made her way down the draughty corridor toward the main hall. Just as she entered the space, a sudden gust of wind blew out her candle, plunging her into darkness.
A door creaked, and quiet footsteps came down the main stairs. She edged forward, and peered around the corner to see a faint light descending down the servants’ staircase toward the kitchen. After a decent interval, she gathered her courage and followed, her soft kid slippers making no sound at all. At the bottom of the stairs, she paused and saw the remnants of the light flickering to her left. Where was the person going? The kitchen and the back door were in the opposite direction. The only rooms on the left were the scullery, the butler’s pantry, and the door down to the cellars.
She held her breath as the light stopped moving and another door was opened. The footsteps were hollower now, and she guessed someone
was
descending to the cellars. Should she follow them? It might only be the butler going down to retrieve more wine from her father’s fast-dwindling stock for dinner tomorrow. But why would he be so careful not to be heard?
She stared into the darkness and considered running back to bed. She was fairly certain that any other well-brought-up young lady would be screaming her head off by now, or at least rousing her father to come after the miscreant with his dueling pistols. She’d always been too pragmatic to be a screamer, and far too curious for her own good.
She tiptoed toward the cellar. The door was propped open with a stone crock of the local cider. A waft of warm air laced with the smell of liquor and the damp salt of the sea rose up from the level below. Faith wrinkled her nose and started down the steps. She paused regularly to listen, and heard no voices, only the sound of boxes or crates being moved about. What was her prey doing?
“Damnation.”
She froze to the spot as the hissed curse word echoed off the damp walls. She’d heard that voice in the stables this morning arguing with another man. Sending up a small prayer to God for her continuing safety, she turned on her heel, picked up her skirts, and decided to leave. A second later, she was plucked from the staircase and crushed hard against a large male body, her mouth covered with a gloved hand. She didn’t have time to take a breath, let alone scream, but she kicked her captor’s shins as hard as she could.
He swung her around until she was backed up against the cellar wall in a dark corner. She stared into the cold brown eyes of the Earl of Westbrook. Her gasp went unheard behind his gloved hand. He bent close until his mouth brushed her ear.
“Be silent.”
As if she had a choice in the matter . . .
A noise behind them made him stiffen, and press her even more closely against the wall, his cloak covering her almost completely. He held her like that until whoever else was in the cellar completed his task and went back up the steps that led to the kitchen. The door closed quietly, leaving Faith alone with the earl.
He eased his hand away from her face. “I’m sorry I had to do that. I didn’t want you to alert our friend to our presence.”
“If he’s skulking around with evil intent in my house, he is hardly my friend, is he?” She shivered as the coldness of the stone crept through the thin fabric of her dress. Had she lost her shawl somewhere? She had no recollection of doing so.
“Why are you here, my lord? You were supposed to be out.”
“I just came back.”
“And had a sudden urge for a bottle of brandy?”
If his quick smile was meant to reassure her, it didn’t. “I came in through the back door because it was so late. I saw someone creeping down the stairs.”
“So you followed them?”
“Naturally.” He stroked his thumb over her mouth. “So did you.”
“How do you know that? I might be in league with whoever it was.”
“As might I.” He held her gaze. “Don’t you think it’s time to admit we might be on the same side?”
“I don’t have to admit anything to you.”
“That’s true, but then I won’t feel obliged to indulge your curiosity either.”
Beneath his teasing words was a hint of command that she couldn’t fail to notice. She sighed.
“I, too, saw someone going down to the cellar.”
“I think we’ve already established that. What did you expect to find down here?”
“I wasn’t sure.” She hesitated. “I wondered if someone was looking for something.”
“Something to do with that argument you heard this morning?”
“Perhaps.”
He stepped away from her and spent a moment lighting a new candle. “Shall we go and see what they were doing?”
“You don’t know either?”
“As I said, I arrived about two minutes before you did.” He took her hand. “Come on, it should be safe now.”
“As if I care about such things.”
He glanced down at her. “That is a discussion for another time. If I had my way, I’d put you over my knee and spank you for being so reckless.”
“
Spank
me?” She tried to pull out of his grasp, but he wouldn’t let go.
“Yes, with your own hairbrush on your bare buttocks.”
“Oh.” She considered that erotic image for far too long before rallying. “What I do is not your concern, my lord.”
“Unfortunately it seems that it is. Everywhere I turn, there you are.” He led her through the large, cavernous cellar until they reached the other side.
“Then perhaps you shouldn’t roam so freely in your host’s house! Oh my goodness, what a mess.” She studied the mass of broken crates and moved boxes. “Whatever was he looking for?”
The earl stepped closer and held up the candle. “This, I imagine.”
Faith squinted at the stones. “Is it another door?”
“Shall we see?”
He stepped over the disturbed boxes and studied the floor-to-ceiling crack.
“I wonder if this goes down to the beach? Perhaps our intrepid bungler didn’t know how to open it,” the earl murmured. “It would be a perfect way to bring smuggled goods up to the house without being detected by the authorities.”
“Smuggled goods?” Faith tried to sound surprised. “Are you a representative of the Excise men, sir?”
“No.” He continued to study the wall.
“Then why do you care how this family brings smuggled goods in from the Continent?”
“Everyone should care. It isn’t only brandy that is brought in, my dear.”
“I suppose you’re talking about seditious ideas, and the threat of revolution. Is that what you are trying to protect, my lord? Your aristocratic friends and your station?”
He swung around to look at her. “Do you want a revolution in this country, Miss Pelly? You wish to see bloodshed, destruction, and the tearing apart of our civilization by an ignorant mob?”
“Of course not, but I think you’re overreacting, and I still don’t understand exactly what you’re interested in.”
“Surely that is my concern?”
She glared at him. “You’re a fine one to speak of being honest. You aren’t willing to tell me a thing!”
“Believe me, I would if I could.” He redirected his gaze back to the door. “It doesn’t look as if this exit has been used for a while. I wonder why? Perhaps our man is new to this business.”
“One would hope so,” Faith murmured. From the conversation she’d overheard she had to suspect that because of the continuing storm, things hadn’t gone as planned. Maybe the door hadn’t needed to be used for a long time.
“Why do you say that?” He caught her chin in his hand. “Do you know who it is?”
“No.” She dared him to ask another question. “And even if I did, do you think I’d tell you?”
He kissed her hard on the mouth. “Even though I still want to spank you, Miss Pelly, I would have to follow it with a good long session of lovemaking.”
“As if I’d let you. Do you know you are far too arrogant for your own good?”
He kissed her again. “Shall we venture into the unknown together, or do you think we should go back?”
With considerable effort, she pulled away from him. His kisses were like lighting gunpowder within her. “We should return to bed, and tell my father what happened in the morning.”
She had no intention of telling her father anything, but the earl didn’t need to know that. She had better things to do with her time, and several other guests to observe and maybe approach with her questions. He didn’t need to know that either, as she was certain he wouldn’t approve of her plans. He definitely had his own reasons for being at the house, and she still wasn’t sure what they were, or how they would affect her family.
He was watching her, so she resolutely turned back to the stairs, and went up them, her skirts caught up in her hand. She almost fell over the heavy stone jar of cider on the top step as she studied the now-closed door.
“Oh, no.” She rattled the latch but it was clearly locked. “We’re trapped.”
“Not quite.” She looked down at the earl, who had remained at the bottom of the stairs. “We can attempt to open the secret door, and find out what lies behind it.”