Lucy watched in interest as he pushed open a slim wooden door that was half-hidden in the shadows.
“What’s this?”
His teeth flashed white as he smiled. “A secret way in to the theater. There’s a passage that comes out beneath the stage.”
Despite being desperate to get out of the rain, Lucy eyed the tunnel with deep suspicion. It was narrow and pitch black. “How often is this used, might I ask? It isn’t going to be filled with spiders and cobwebs and rats, is it?”
“You’re not afraid of a few spiders and rats, are you Montgomery? You must have encountered far worse on your travels.”
“I have, but that doesn’t mean I enjoyed the experience.” Lucy pushed a dripping strand of hair from her face. “Fine. Lead on. At least it’s dry.”
Arden’s shoulders were so broad they brushed the curved sides of the narrow tunnel as he pulled her forward, tugging inexorably on her hand. Lucy scowled at his back, even though he couldn’t possibly see her in the fast-fading light.
After a few more steps the passage became completely dark, and she shuddered. She disliked enclosed spaces such as this, but she’d rather die than admit such a fear to Arden. He’d probably slow his steps, just to prolong her torment.
To distract herself, she focused her attention on her other senses, like the feel of her hand in Arden’s much larger one. His fingers were warm and strong, curving around hers, and when she moved her thumb, she brushed the hard ridge of a scar that ran across his palm and curved up and over the back of his hand.
Her heart gave a funny little thump in her chest. She’d never imagined she’d ever be holding hands with him. It felt disturbingly pleasant.
“How long is this blasted tunnel?” she murmured.
“About a hundred yards or so.” His disembodied voice sounded strange, bouncing off the walls. “It runs under White Hart Yard.”
Lucy ducked her head and pressed closer to his back, praying that his taller form would sweep any spiders out of the way and leave the path clear for her. She was so intent on her task that when he slowed his pace unexpectedly, she barreled straight into him. Her nose bumped between his shoulder blades and she sucked in a shocked gasp.
“Oof! Sorry. I can’t see a thing.”
She cursed herself silently, and tried to ignore the way the delicious scent of his cologne wrapped around her, intensified by the rain and the enclosed space.
He gave a grunt that could have been either annoyance or amusement, and carried on.
Lucy frowned as a series of thoughts struck her. “Wait. What were you doing on Exeter Street? Were you taking part in that protest?”
“I happened to be in the area, and no, I wasn’t taking part. Although I agree with the sentiments of the protestors. Veteransshouldget more help form the government, as should the poor.”
“But how did you know I was in that coach?”
“The Montgomery crest is painted on the door.”
“Oh.” He’d probably envisaged a delightful evening visiting the taverns and brothels around Covent Garden. Instead, he’d turned into her knight in soaking wet armor. “Well, thank you for rescuing me. I’m sorry to have interrupted your night.”
His grip on her hand tightened. “I hope you wouldn’t have considered leaving the carriage if I hadn’t been there. Covent Garden is no place for a woman alone, however intrepid.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “Of course not. I’m not completely dim-witted.”
His answering snort sounded highly skeptical.
“This tunnel could be one of the ways the Phantom manages to get in and out of the theater without being seen,” she mused aloud.
“Still hot on his trail? Is that where you were heading? Back to the Theater?”
Lucy nodded, then realized he couldn’t see her in the dark. “Yes. In fact, I met him last night.”
“You did? He obviously didn’t throw you off the balcony. I applaud the man’s restraint.”
She debated how much to tell him. Not about the kiss, certainly. He’d probably be scandalized. “He was very polite, actually, although I didn’t succeed in getting his name. I was hoping I’d have more luck this evening.”
“You always were persistent.”
