“Excellent.” Wick grinned. “In that case, may the game go to the best man—or lady.”
Chapter Six
Violet raced merrily toward her destination. She’d wound her way through several rooms, deliberately taking detours to throw others off her scent. She knew exactly where to hide and didn’t want anyone else hedging in on her territory. Shelovedgames; Carlisle wasn’t the only one who played to win. With glee, she imagined Lord High and Mighty’s face when she was declared the winner.
She passed through the library, hurrying past the carved stone hearth and the seats clustered around it. At the sound of female giggles and male murmurs emerging from the maze of bookshelves, her eyebrows rose. Clearly, the room was already occupied.
Not that she cared. Bookshelves were such anobviousplace to hide.
Leaving the room, she made her way stealthily toward the floor of galleries in the east wing. She heard occasional voices, but they grew dimmer as she located the small, chapel-like room that she’d explored with Polly earlier that day. Shaped like a cross, the room’s mint green walls were hung with gilt-framed paintings, and the ceiling was covered in a field of plasterwork flowers. She and Polly had scrutinized those exquisite white blooms and, in awe, concluded that each of them was unique, slightly different from the rest.
Vi had also discovered something else.
With unerring steps, she went to the head of the room, where five steps led up to a platform; here, one could look out a picturesque window framed by billowing silk curtains. She ran her fingers under the ledge of the third step, nimbly searching out the hidden mechanism. She pressed and heard the familiar click. Grinning, she watched the steps move as one, swinging open like a door to reveal the gloomy depths of the Priest Hole. She crouched, readying to jump inside—and squealed when a large, masculine hand reached out of the darkness.
She gawked at the stern face staring out at her.
“Thunderbolts.” She planted her hands on her hips. “What areyoudoing here?”
~~~
“Hiding,” Richard said curtly. “That is the purpose of the game, is it not?”
When Miss Kent continued to stare down at him as if he’d grown three heads, he sighed and heaved himself out of the Priest Hole. Even though she was on the taller side for a female, he still towered over her by half a foot. He preferred this position to looking up at her from the hole. As far as he was concerned, he’d take every advantage he could get when dealing with the brazen minx.
“How did you know about my hiding place?” she demanded.
“Pardon. I didn’t realize this niche belonged to you,” he said sardonically.
Pink bloomed in her cheeks. “I meant how did you know about the Priest Hole?”
“Billings gave me a tour. He mentioned that this gallery used to be a Catholic chapel. I put two and two together.”
Miss Kent’s brows drew together. “You figured out where the Priest Hole wasby yourself?”
Richard resented the incredulity in her tone. As if she didn’t expect him to be able to put his own boots on, let alone figure out a simple secret mechanism. “Why is this a surprise, Miss Kent, when I assume you did the same?”
“Well, I’m a hoyden, aren’t I?” Her smart words made heat crawl up his jaw. “Let’s face it, we adventurous and modern females are known to show a bit of ingenuity. But a gentleman such as you,”—she shrugged—“well, you’re…”
He waited, arms crossed over his chest.
“… conventional. A traditionalist.” Her eyes taunted him. “I wouldn’t expectyouto be capable of locating a clandestine place.”
In other words, she thought him a dullard. An unexciting—and stupid—stuffed shirt. That she held that opinion of him should come as no surprise. He’d never been the kind of man that women swooned over: a brooding, enigmatic Lord Byron… or a charming Wickham.
When Miss Belton had turned down his suit, his mama’s words of consolation had been the following:You can’t blame her, Richard. Next time, try being less dependable and direct. Such earnestness grows tedious, you know.
“Just because I don’t go looking for trouble doesn’t mean I can’t find a bloody Priest Hole,” he said shortly. “Like I said, I play to win.”
“But I was going to hide here,” Miss Kent protested.
“As they say, finders keepers, losers…” He imitated her shrug.
“I amnota loser—” Her head swung toward the door.
Footsteps and voices approached.
“Crumpets,” she breathed.
