His Scandalous Kiss: Secrets at Thorncliff Manor: 6 (12 page)

“Why? I can hardly think of anyone more eligible than Belgrave.” There was a brief pause, and then, “Does your disinterest
in him have something to do with the gentleman you met at the masquerade?”

A gentle breeze toyed with the grass while Mary considered the question. “Perhaps,” she said, not bothering to hide her smile.

“Then you have discovered his identity?”

Mary scrunched her nose. “No.” When Sarah spoke her surprise, Mary quickly added, “but I have met with him a few times since
the night of the ball.”

“Without knowing who he is?”

“I do not expect you to understand,” Mary said, “but there is something about him that draws me. I cannot seem to help it.”

A contemplative pause followed until Sarah quietly asked, “Do you have any clue at all regarding his identity?”

“Not yet,” Mary lied. She’d told her friend enough and would not risk betraying Richard’s trust.

“Just be careful then,” Sarah said as she linked her arm with Mary’s. “I would hate for you to get hurt.”

It was past ten o’clock when Richard heard her footsteps descending the stairs that would lead her toward him. A second passed,
and then the glow of her lantern came into view, blending with the light of his own as she entered the small antechamber,
beyond which, the gardens of Thorncliff awaited.

The slightest tremor shot through him at the sight of her. She wore her hair up in a complicated style that only a maid would
have been able to produce, revealing a pair of delicate earrings that dangled from her lobes. Her gown this evening had been
cut from the sheerest white muslin in multiple layers that added an air of ghostliness to her. Over it, she wore a tight spencer
jacket that was meant to keep her warm. To Richard’s mind, it only served to draw attention to her shapely figure.

“Are you ready?” he asked. Something had to be said before he forgot himself completely.

She nodded. “I have been looking forward to it all day.”

There was something in her tone that made him want to wrap his arms around her and pull her against him. Instead, he shrugged
the feeling away and turned toward the door.

Fifteen minutes later, they were back inside the cave, their lanterns casting a yellow glow that danced across the walls.
Carefully, Richard headed toward the other end of the cave where the floor slanted downward. Turning up the light of his lantern,
he held it out in front of him and glanced down. “It appears to be a little steep,” he said. “Do you think you can manage?”

Stepping up beside him, Lady Mary paused for a moment before saying, “I am glad that I put on my walking boots after dinner.”

Dropping his gaze, he spotted the leather tips of them peeking out from beneath her hemline. “I will help you, of course.”
Moving forward, he realized the slope wasn’t nearly as challenging as it appeared, for which he was grateful. He turned when
he was halfway down and offered Lady Mary his outstretched hand, a shock of heat rushing through him the moment her palm settled
against his own, alerting him to the fact that she wasn’t wearing gloves.

With trembling heart, he guided her toward him, then stepped back the rest of the way until they were both safe on the flat
surface below. Unwilling to sever the bond between them, he failed to release her hand as he ought, waiting instead for her
to do it. To his surprise, she curled her fingers more tightly around his—so tightly, that he almost forgot to breathe.

“I went for a walk with Belgrave today,” she said. The softness of her voice made it sound as though she was speaking of a
mundane matter like the arrangement of flowers in the garden. “Later, we enjoyed a picnic with the Spencers.”

Richard stiffened. Instinct told him to retreat. Instead he held his ground, thankful that his expression would be hidden
behind his mask. Allowing a moment to pass, he aimed for a neutral tone. “I trust you had an agreeable time?”

“It was pleasant enough,” she said as she pursed her lips. “He knows that I have no interest in him.”

“Is that true?”

Her eyes widened with surprise. “Of course it is.”

His chest tightened around his heart. “I daresay that there is no ‘of course’ about it. After all, he is both handsome and
titled. In fact, the truth of the matter is that he would make an excellent match for you.” What the hell was he doing, talking
up another gentleman in favor of himself?

She nodded her agreement. “He is also exceedingly kind.”

Richard grit his teeth together. “I have no doubt that he is.”

“In fact,” she told him thoughtfully, “I do believe my life would be far less complicated if I
were
interested in him.”

“But you are not?” He held his breath in anticipation of her answer.

She frowned. “I thought we had already established that I am not.”

“Right.” He made to turn away—to avoid asking her who she might be interested in then—knowing what her answer would be but
also knowing that he really shouldn’t encourage her favor. Except of course, he wouldn’t be roaming around a dark cave with
her in the middle of the night . . . alone, one might add . . . unless he wished to encourage her favor a great deal. Damn,
what a mess he’d made. And all because he couldn’t stop himself from seeking her out on the night of the ball.

“I also spoke with Rotridge.”

A chill raced down Richard’s spine. His shoulders tensed. “About what?”

Her eyes widened a little, no doubt in response to how angry he now sounded. “Actually, he approached Belgrave while I was
in his company. Apparently Rotridge was of the opinion that Belgrave might have been you.”

“I see.” Thank God he’d had the foresight to inquire about the earl. If only he could find something condemning that he could
hold against him, then hopefully he’d have a means by which to ensure that he would stay away from Lady Mary forever.

“You should know that Belgrave has mentioned it to Spencer and Chadwick and that the three of them have offered to keep an
eye on Rotridge—to ensure that he does not try to do something foolish.”

“Good.” Richard knew little about Belgrave, but with Spencer and Chadwick looking out for Lady Mary, he was confident that
she would be safe from Rotridge. How safe she’d be from
him
, however, was an entirely different and far more complicated question. Raising his lantern, he immediately forgot about his
predicament regarding his increasing fondness for Lady Mary because of what he suddenly saw. “There are steps over here.”
It seemed unfathomable.

“Steps?” She sounded equally surprised. “So much for discovering unchartered territory.”

He almost laughed in response to her obvious disappointment. “I see no reason why we cannot still explore it.”

“I suppose you are right, especially since there is less chance of either one of us falling into a ravine as long as a proper
path exists.”

“Were you really worried about such a thing happening?” he asked. He’d warned her that their exploit could prove hazardous,
but a ravine? “I have never heard of caves having ravines in them,” he told her thoughtfully.

“A pit then?”

He blinked and murmured a drawn out, “No,” before adding, “When I spoke of potential danger, I was merely considering a sprained
ankle or some other minor injury. Not once did I imagine either one of us plummeting to our deaths.”

She scrunched her nose again in that adorable way that he’d grown so fond of. “I am sorry. It was not my intention to be quite
so dramatic about our adventure, but I have recently been reading
The Dark Secret of Mistletoe Forest
—”

“And you imagined ending up at the bottom of a pit with only a ghost for company?”

She gaped at him. “Have you read it?”

“In case you were not aware, I have had a surprising amount of time on my hands since returning from the war.” He shrugged.
“As it happens, I found it to be an amusing read—undoubtedly one of the most unpredictable books that I have ever encountered.”

“I find it vastly entertaining myself,” she said. “Especially the part where the hero descends into the pit to save the heroine
by tying the harness from his horse together with his jacket, shirt, stirrups and saddle.”

“A touch unrealistic, I suspect, but the fact that this amused you tells me something else about you,” he said.

“And what might that be?” She gazed up at him, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“Well, some might say that
The Dark Secret of Mistletoe Forest
is one of the stupidest books in existence—a mockery of English literature. But since you do not, I can only conclude that
you appreciate the satire behind it and that you also have a splendid sense of humor.”

The smile that spread its way across her face, like the first rays of sunlight brightening the sky at dawn, stole his breath.
She was without a doubt the most exquisite creature he’d ever encountered. “That is one of the best compliments I have ever
received,” she said. “Thank you.”

Dipping his head in a bow, he turned back toward the stairs. “Shall we proceed?”

“Oh, indeed we shall!”

Richard counted fifteen steps before they reached another plateau. “Do you hear that?” He whispered the question.

“It sounds like water.”

Moving closer to the sound, Richard noticed a series of torches, held in place by iron sconces that had been mounted into
the rock wall. Taking one down, he held it to the flame of his lantern, then used it to light the rest of the torches until
the cave was perfectly illuminated, allowing them both a clear view of the space they were now in—an area at least twenty
paces in width. Looking up, Richard saw that a thin waterfall flowed out from between a crack in the wall. He followed the
movement until it dove behind a ledge at the opposite side of the plateau, splashing against a larger body of water below.

Crossing the area, he peered down, confounded by what he saw. “It looks as though there is an underground river down there.”
He glanced toward the left where a gradual slope appeared to form an embankment. “I can even see a boat.”

She was beside him in an instant. “I thought you were joking,” she said. And then, “This is without a doubt the best adventure
I have ever had. Shall we see what else we can find?”

Richard laughed, the sound so foreign to him that he startled himself with it, which resulted in something of a croak. He
heard Lady Mary draw a sharp breath, and then she said, “I gather that it has been a while since you found something amusing?”

He nodded, increasingly aware of how much he enjoyed her company.

“In that case, I feel remarkably lucky to have had the good fortune of sharing this moment with you, and one day, when you
are ready, I hope to not only hear your laughter, but to see you smile as well.”

“I must confess that as much as I would like that, I cannot help but fear how you will react.” His throat tightened around
his breath until his chest ached and his heart felt uncomfortably heavy. He’d never been this honest, this open, with anyone.

“I know,” she said as she reached out and took him by the hand, her fingers wrapping around his. She looked at him with imploring
eyes. “But we cannot go on like this forever. Not if we are to have a future together.”

“I am aware of that.”

She nodded, her gaze shifting to their hands. “Then you must face your fears at some point and trust that I will accept you
for who you are.” She paused a moment before saying, “And I must do the same.”

He frowned at this. “What do you mean?”

A shy smile traced her lips. “You are not the only one who is afraid to show your true self. There is something about me that
you may not be willing to accept.”

This surprised him. Indeed, he did not believe it. Nothing about her would ever deter him from wanting her in every conceivable
way. “I take it that you are not referring to your fondness for opera, for I already know about that.”

She dropped her gaze. “You are right. There is something more.”

He didn’t like the sound of that—the not knowing what sort of stain might tarnish his view of the lady whom he’d come to hold
in the highest regard. “What is it?” he managed to ask.

“I will tell you as soon as you are ready to show me your face. One truth in return for another, to test the depth of our
affection and whether or not we have a chance for true happiness together.”

He sucked in a breath, unprepared for her suggestion. “You drive a hard bargain, my lady.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded, “but I will not marry a man who cannot appreciate me for who I am, and neither should you.”

“Marry a man? God no!”

Her laughter was immediate, completely unpretentious, and filled with the sort of happiness that was only made possible when
one was completely comfortable in the other person’s company. He loved that he’d made her feel that way and couldn’t resist
pulling her toward him. Indeed, he’d been struggling not to do so the entire evening, the memory of her warm body from the
day before tempting him every second that they were together.

So his arms found their way around her, hugging her close until she was flush against the length of him, her face buried against
the black wool of his cloak. He could feel her chest rising and falling just as unevenly as his, her heartbeat vibrating through
him until it matched the beat of his own.

Mary had never doubted that she was a romantic at heart. But with the turn her life had taken in recent years and the fact
that she’d never met a man who’d made her heart flutter before, she’d long since realized that she would probably never marry.
She certainly wouldn’t make a lifetime commitment to someone for anything less than love. And then her brother had gotten
into financial trouble and she’d dismissed the idea of marriage completely.

But now, wrapped in Richard’s warm embrace, there was no doubt that her heart was fluttering. As for love . . . she was beginning
to suspect that it might not be long before that particular emotion enveloped her completely. Which was strange, not only
because she had no notion of who Richard was or what he looked like, but because they’d only just met three days prior. Yet
somehow, in a strange and almost magical way, she already felt as though she’d known him forever.

Inhaling his scent, she leaned back, forcing him to loosen his hold. For a long moment, she gazed up at the silver mask that
concealed his features, desperately wishing that he’d take it off—remove the barrier that stood between them.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice soft and husky as it curled its way around her like smoke.

“Nothing.” She refused to push him before he was ready.

“Now you are being dishonest.” His hand caught hold of her chin as she started to look away, holding her face steady as he
gazed back into her eyes. “Tell me what it is.”

Swallowing, she allowed a few breaths to pass before saying, “Very well. I was thinking that I would like for you to kiss
me.” Heat crept up her neck and into her cheeks. Her pulse leapt at the realization of what she’d just said. “Forgive me.
That was . . . too forward.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he murmured, his thumb gently stroking along her jaw until she feared her knees might buckle.
“I have thought of little else myself, since holding you in my arms last night.”

“You kissed my neck.” She sounded breathless, and indeed she was. The memory of what he’d done—the acknowledgment of it—was
making it near impossible for her to function properly.

“It was not enough.” His statement, the simplicity of it, the boldness, was almost more than she could bear. His thumb stilled
against her cheek. “Have you ever been kissed before? Properly, that is? By a man who desires you?”

She shook her head. “No.”

His eyes held hers for what seemed like an eternity before he suddenly dropped his hand and stepped away. “I think the river
must lead toward the sea,” he said as he headed toward the steps with his lantern.

Mary blinked as she watched him go. What on earth had just happened? Feeling somewhat unraveled, she went after him. “Did
I say something wrong just now?” she asked, unable to comprehend the sudden shift in mood.

Reaching the embankment, Richard crossed to the boat and began inspecting it. “Not at all,” he said without looking at her.
“I think this must have been here for many years. It is in pretty bad shape—part of the wood has rotted away.”

“Then why are you acting so strange?”

He ran his fingers along the edge of the boat. “I do not think that I am, all things considered. After all, we have just discovered
a river and a boat beneath Thorncliff Manor. There is also a tunnel just over there, in case you failed to notice it yet.
Do you not agree that what we have found demands further investigation?”

Frustrated, she almost stomped her feet. “Well yes, but that is not what I was referring to, and you know it.”

He sighed then, his head dipping a little as if in surrender. “You fear being alone with Rotridge, and yet you have clearly
placed your trust in me. Why is that?”

“I do not know,” she said. “Perhaps because you are the one who has saved me from Rotridge’s unwelcome advances twice already.”

He shook his head and then grunted. “You are naïve if you think that you are safe in my company.”

Her eyes widened at this, surprised by the harshness of his voice. He studied her a moment before adding, “For the last five
years, I have been celibate, and then I meet you, a woman who tempts me in every possible way. You would be a fool not to
fear me.”

Squaring her shoulders, she held her ground. “And yet I find myself incapable of doing so.”

A long pause followed, and then, “You claim that you want me to kiss you.” There was a bitter undertone to his words that
made her shiver. “Wait until you see my face and you will reconsider.”

She shook her head. “No. I will not.”

“So you say, but I can assure you that I have had good reason to stay away from Society all these years. Give me a few more
days to bolster my courage and I shall show you what I mean.”

“It will not change anything between us.”

He winced. “I would hope not, but I also have to be realistic. As much as I like you—however dependent I seem to have become
on your company in the short time that we have known each other—I cannot ignore the fact that you are beautiful while I . . .
I am anything but.”

“You must not say that!” He drew back, her sharp tone visibly shocking him. “Don’t you dare tell me that you are less deserving
just because your face happens to be scarred. In my eyes, you are the hero who went to war and fought for his country, the
man who suffered torture at the hands of his enemies, the very same man who could have taken advantage of me several times
over by now, but who refuses to do so because he is at heart a gentleman.” She struggled against the tight knot forming in
her throat while her eyes burned with emotion. “You deserve every bit of happiness in the world, including . . .”

“What?”

She shook her head, almost gasping for air. “Nothing. I . . .” She blinked. “It is nothing.”

He muttered something incoherent before saying more loudly, “Considering your very impassioned speech just now, I daresay
that it is not nothing. Will you tell me what you were going to say? That I deserve everything, including . . .”

She took a deep fortifying breath before diving in headfirst. “Me,” she whispered, feeling ridiculously self-conscious all
of a sudden. “I was going to say, me.”

Silence fell between them, filled only by the soft trickling of water against the stone and the gentle splash that it made
as it spilled into the river. Gradually, almost as if realizing he ought to do something, Richard stepped away from the boat
and came toward her. “Winning your hand, would be the greatest honor,” he said when he was finally before her once more.

“Then take courage and trust that all will be well.”

With a slow nod, he took her by the hand and began leading her over to the tunnel. “I will,” he assured her, “but you have
to know that revealing myself to you is going to be more difficult than anything else I have ever done before in my life.
Your opinion and what it will mean . . . I know what you have said and I have no doubt that you believe it to be true. Nevertheless,
I must prepare myself for disappointment, and I advise you to do the same, in spite of your convictions.”

She said nothing further, knowing all too well that the subject had already been pushed beyond the bounds of comfort. So she
followed him instead, hoping that they might find something else of interest to distract them from the awkward atmosphere
that seemed to have fallen upon them.

“Tread carefully,” he said, his hand closing more firmly around hers as he slowed his progress. Descending over a slight ledge,
he helped her down, shining the light to reveal a turn in the tunnel.

“Do you think Lady Duncaster knows about this?” Mary asked, her curiosity heightened at the sight of more sconces and torches
inserted into the rock. “This was clearly deliberately built beneath Thorncliff’s foundation and actively used.”

“I have no idea, though I suppose someone in recent history must have been aware.” He stopped next to one of the scones and
studied it more closely. “There is no telling when the tunnels were built. In all likelihood, they were here before the Thorncliff
that we know today, but the sconces and torches . . . they appear to be modern in style.”

“It would have taken years to construct such a passageway.” It was difficult to fathom how long exactly.

“I suppose so, but think of the mines that have been built here in England, or the tunnels located beneath Rome. Have you
read about those in any of your books?”

“No,” Mary confessed. They continued walking, the glow from their lanterns pushing back the darkness as they went while pebbles
crunched beneath their feet.

“Apparently, Rome contains a vast structure of underground passageways dating back thousands of years to when the city was
first built.” He halted abruptly, almost causing Mary to stumble.

“What is—”

“Shh!”

She paused to listen, aware of a faint rustling sound, almost like leaves blowing in the wind. Except it couldn’t be leaves,
considering their current location, which meant that it had to be something else. The most alarming part of all was that it
seemed to be growing louder. Her first thought was that it might be a swarm of flying insects, but that too seemed somehow
illogical.

“Bats,” Richard said. Spinning toward her, he pulled her down to the ground without warning and flung his cape over her head
just as the air stirred to life around her. Mary instinctively felt like leaping to her feet and running, especially when
the bats dipped low enough to brush against her back. She shuddered in response, huddling closer to Richard who knelt beside
her, his arm draped securely around her waist.

“Are they all gone?” she asked when it was once again quiet.

Pulling his cloak away from her, he helped her to her feet. “I believe so.” He continued forward while she followed hesitantly
behind, ready to duck down again if the need to do so arose. A few more paces and she heard him suck in a breath.

“What is it?” she asked, edging closer to where he was standing.

“Something that is bound to astound you.”

Curious, she hurried up alongside him and peered through the yellow haze illuminating the space beyond the tunnel as Richard
held his lantern forward. It took a moment for Mary to comprehend what she was looking at, all things considered. Eventually,
she said, “This appears to be a foyer.” It wasn’t nearly as large as the one inside Thorncliff Manor, but it was impressive
in its own right, the floor a mosaic of intertwined ropes, spiraling disks, animals and warriors, combined in the most intricate
pattern that Mary had ever seen. The ceiling was flat, though beautifully painted in bright shades of blue and red. Across
from where they stood, a thick pair of columns marked a doorway.

“My lady?” Richard inquired.

“It is beyond compare,” Mary whispered, scarcely able to believe that she wasn’t dreaming.

“Speaking of Romans, I believe that they are the ones who built this.” Stepping forward, he headed in the direction of the
doorway. “The architecture is reminiscent of their style.”

Shaking her head in dismay, she went after him. “Under the ground like this? It makes no sense.”

With a shrug, he said, “Unless they knew about the cave, built the tunnel to allow for easy access to the sea, and then constructed
this room as some sort of transitional area.”

“I suppose anything is possible at this point,” Mary agreed. Even so, she wasn’t quite prepared to discover a hallway beyond
the doorway—least of all one with a sweeping staircase at the end of it. On either side of the hallway were a series of rooms,
each concealed by a wooden door similar to those inside Thorncliff.

Unable to contain her curiosity, Mary reached for the handle closest to her and pushed down. The door swung open, revealing
a room that was equally Roman in style, though the furnishings suggested that it had been used in more recent years. Any doubts
that this might have been the case were immediately eliminated by the presence of a large painting that hung on the wall—an
impressive portrait of the former king.

“It looks as though this might have been used as a study,” Richard said, peering past Mary’s left shoulder.

She stepped aside so he could enter the room properly, watching as he walked across to the large desk that formed the centerpiece.
“Anything of interest?” she asked when he opened a drawer and pulled out a book.

He didn’t answer immediately, flipping instead to the first page and taking a moment to read. Too curious to wait for Richard
to offer an explanation, Mary hastened over to where he stood and looked down at the text herself. It appeared to be the title
page of a personal notebook, reading simply:
The Cardinal Truths.

Mary frowned, uncertain of what that meant. Richard turned the page, revealing an elegant script that seemed to fill the entire
page. At the top was a date.
1780.
Below it, Mary read:

Our duty, as described below, defines us. It runs through our veins and keeps us on a steady course, guiding us in the name
of justice. We are the defenders of the weak and the protectors of the poor. Our sacred oath is first and foremost toward
God. May He give us strength and courage in the years to come.

“Do you recognize the handwriting by any chance?” Mary asked.

There was a brief hesitation before he answered. “As a matter of fact, it bears a striking resemblance to my late grandfather’s.”

“Your grandfather’s?”

Richard nodded absently. “He was a close friend of Lord Duncaster’s father.”

“So then, Lady Duncaster knows you well?” She hadn’t realized, though it did explain the countess’s insightful words when
she’d spoken of Richard.

“Yes. Or rather, she used to. Our families have been close for as long as I can remember.” Closing the book, he placed it
just as they had found it. “It is growing late and we have been gone for longer than I expected. We ought to return to Thorncliff.”

“And abandon our search?” It felt as if he was asking her to do the impossible. “At least take the book with you.”