“An interesting wrinkle,” she mused. “I didn’t expect Reddington to use real artillery in his mock battles.”
Stephen arched a brow. “So now what?”
“Now,” she said, “I need to find the deed, the will, and the earl.”
“Is that all?” Mr. Lenox asked mildly.
No, Elizabeth supposed it was not all. This had become a Situation that needed to be resolved. Handsome Mr. Lenox had been brave in the face of being taken hostage because he wasalreadyhostage.
And Elizabeth was a Wynchester—protector to those who needed it. Which meant she now had two clients. Blast. She had so looked forward to returning home soon. She supposed Mr. Lenox felt the same way.
“Very well. You’ve convinced me.” She set down her cognac. “I shall station myself as your bodyguard until I am able to safely extract you from danger.”
“You’re stationing yourself as my… bodyguard?” he repeated carefully. “Here?”
“In a one hundred percent professional capacity,” she warned him with a shake of her finger. “No more dampening my bodice with buckets of water, or slicing open your clothing to show off your rippling muscles.”
“You’re the one who sliced open my clothing!”
“I’m advising myself not to do it again, no matter how you tempt me. We’ll see how that goes. As you mentioned, Wynchesters aren’t used to following rules.”
“Including the prohibition against an unmarried woman spending the night unchaperoned beneath the same roof as an unmarried man, so as to protect her reputation?”
“Oh, I haven’t any reputation to protect,” Elizabeth said proudly. “All the rumors are true.”
Mr. Lenox narrowed his eyes. “Is there any gossip about you successfully acting as a bodyguard?”
“I’ve years of experience,” she assured him. “The only thing I lovemore than a good offensive strike is defending someone else from harm. I shall be honored to personally oversee the protection of the castle and your person.”
“Until you find the papers you’re looking for.”
She nodded. “Which will secure your freedom and Miss Oak’s future.”
Silence stretched between them. They both took another sip of cognac.
“Well,” said Mr. Lenox. “It’s certainly a big enough castle for two. If you’re determined to stay and search for a hidden will, I shan’t prevent you.”
“You couldn’t stop me if you tried.”
“I did a very good job of stopping you,” he pointed out. “You’d still be chopping at the door if I hadn’t let you in.”
“You created a semi-efficient temporary roadblock,” she allowed. “I would’ve come through the wall one way or another eventually. And your secret panel, too.”
“Hm.” He considered her. “I suppose if anyone were capable of such a feat, it just might be you.”
She beamed at him.
After Miss Oak’s suffocating attempts to coddle her, it was a relief to be treated as competent again. Elizabeth decided not to mention her throbbing hip and aching back from the encounter with the murder room. Or how daunting she found the prospect of her new temporary residence.
Even without Mr. Lenox’s devilish modifications, medieval castles were not designed for someone like Elizabeth. A warren of dark, narrow corridors with slippery stone floors, steps of uneven height, every staircase narrow and curving and dangerous with nothing to hold on to or to break one’s fall…
She kept her voice brisk. “Could you please have a footman returnthe pony cart to Miss Oak and retrieve my belongings from her guest room?”
“Of course. It shall be my honor to host you.”
Elizabeth hoped so. Because until they found the hidden testament or turned up the real Earl of Densmore…
She and Mr. Lenox were stuck with each other.
