Reddington sent his men a smug expression, as if her retort was proof that he held the upper hand. “Then prepare to meet your fate. Your only choices are to surrender or be sieged. I will not rest until this castle is mine or my blade has tasted your blood.”
“You can try your best.” She shook her sword and smiled her cobra smile. “I’ll be waiting.”
18
Early the next afternoon, Stephen swung his helmet’s telescopic lens away from his eyes and blinked at all the devices in their varying stages filling up the Great Hall. When his eyes adjusted, he removed his leather tinker’s helmet and placed it and his tools in a compartment he’d devised for safekeeping. Absently, he ran his hand over his hair in a halfhearted attempt to fluff the matted locks out of their helmet shape.
What time was it? Normally, he would have pressed a lever to trigger an outdoor machine he’d created that, after an intricate series of cause-and-effect reactions, terminated in the display of a sundial. But that sequence took forty minutes to reset. The position of the sun and his pocket watch confirmed it was midafternoon. He smiled. For the first time in years, Stephen wasn’t looking for ways to fill up his empty days. He knew exactly how he wanted to spend his time:
With Elizabeth.
He dusted off his trousers and glanced out of the open window. The empty grass indicated the castle was not yet under siege. Reddington and his men might be lurking in the forest, but as long as they weren’t actively charging the castle, Stephen planned to continue ignoring the threats.
Elizabeth, on the other hand, was constitutionally incapable of ignoring any potential violent skirmish. The only thing stopping herfrom charging out into the woods with her sword raised high was her commitment to making her client’s case her top priority. After breaking her fast with Stephen, she immediately resumed her quest to solve the puzzle and find the hidden will.
But even a Wynchester ought to pause intermittently for sustenance. This seemed as good a time as any for a bit of company and a hearty tea.
Stephen placed his request with a footman, then hurried through the stone corridors in search of Elizabeth.
He found her in the library.
A twinge of sympathy twisted in Stephen’s chest. Both Elizabeth and Miss Oak were trying their hardest to accomplish a worthy mission… that they might never be able to realize. For both their sakes, Stephen hoped his cousin would walk through the door at any moment, will and deed in hand.
Even if Stephen put the probability at 0.0013.
He stepped into the room. “How is it going?”
Elizabeth glanced up from the tome in her hand, green eyes shining. “Philippa wouldadorethis library. She loves bookshelves with ladders.”
The walls stretched twelve feet tall, and every inch of them was covered with shelves of books. A track around the ceiling allowed for the hooking of a stationary ladder. Stephen would have added wheels to the ladder, but he supposed the current system was satisfactory enough. He could imagine his aunt Arminia seated in one of the flowery chairs, paging through a novel.
“The unicorn led you here?”
“It didn’t lead me anywhere,” she admitted. “I thought maybe it was a literary reference. Her favorite book, or one she loved to listen to as a child.”
“Clever. How many of these books were her favorites?”
“I haven’t the least notion… but there are one thousand, six hundred and fifty-two volumes. It took all day, but I flipped through every last one of them, hoping the next clue would be written in plain English on a piece of paper hidden inside.”
“Was it?”
Her shoulders slumped. “No.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t find anything.” Somewhat sorry. If she did manage a miracle, their interlude would end all the sooner.
“I found five volumes referencing unicorns and a recipe book for biscuits, including Scotch petticoat tails.” She gestured with her sword at a pile lying on one of the ornamental tables. “The books I intend to borrow are over there, if you’re interested.”
“I’m always interested in shortbread. In fact, when I was a child, I dreamt of meals in which every course was a different, delicious dessert.”
Her eyes brightened. “Me too.”
He grinned. “I was hoping you might have time to take tea with me. It’s being delivered to the study.”
“Tea sounds perfect.” She twirled her sword. “I can come back to this later.”
“Is that a new sword?” he inquired as she fell into step beside him.
“It’s a very old sword. Or at least, modeled after one. Many of my heroines were medieval knights.”
