She rushed over. “By Golly, you found it! A hidden corridor.”
He raised the lamp. Its flickering illumination revealed a narrow tunnel. “It looks like the corridor goes behind the walls, toward the study.”
“Let’s find out—” She froze at the sound of laughter outside.
“Christ. Get in the tunnel. Now.”
“Wait. The map.” She dashed back to snatch the paper, which they’d left by the hearth. She ran back toward the tunnel, Richard pushing her inside and following her, closing the panel shut behind them… and just in time.
She heard the door open to the library, the voices growing louder. The female tones she recognized as Mrs. Sumner’s. The male voice… she couldn’t be sure, but the cultured accents did not belong to Tobias Price. Apparently, the widow liked variety in her company. A flush heated Violet’s skin as conversation turned predictably into another sort of activity.
Richard whispered in her ear, “They’re going to be at it for a while. We might as well see if the tunnel is true to the map and takes us to the study.”
Collecting herself, Vi nodded. She led the way forward. She was keenly aware of Richard’s presence behind her, solid and reassuring.
Turning to him, she said in hushed tones, “How far do you think this passageway goes?”
“I have no idea.” He ducked his head to avoid hitting the ceiling, which had dropped even lower. “By Jove,” he muttered, “they could have made this a might roomier.”
“Obviously whoever built this had little priests in mind. They weren’t planning for a man of your size.”
“You have a problem with my size, Miss Kent?”
At the gleam in his eyes, warmth stirred in her belly, her awareness of him humming through her veins. The musty air suddenly turned quite humid. She faced forward so he wouldn’t see her looking flustered. “Don’t go fishing for compliments. We have more importantoof—”
Her slipper caught on something that clanked, and she pitched forward, the ground coming up at her with terrifying speed. Richard caught her, yanking her back. He held her against his rock-hard physique.
“Have a care, lass,” he murmured against her ear.
Her breath rushed in and out of her lungs. “I—I tripped on something.”
He raised the lamp, illuminating a dark bag that lay on the ground a few feet away. She retrieved it, her fingers closing around supple leather wrapped around some hard objects. Her mind flew back to the contents of the box she’d found in Monique’s room. Although she didn’t fully understand the function of those objects—why would anyone want a statue of a man’s thingamabob?—she had an inkling that their purpose was salacious.
She thrust the pouch at Richard. “You open it,” she blurted.
His mouth twitched. Wordlessly, he exchanged the lamp for the bag and released the drawstring, drawing out the contents. She stared at the thin metal rods he held, each with a uniquely shaped head.
“Lock picks,” he said tersely.
His assessment confirmed her own. “Where do you think they came from?”
“My guess is that Monique left them here.” His voice was grim. “She got what she wanted and ditched her incriminating tools.”
“What was it that she wanted?” Vi said.
He gestured ahead; she saw that they’d reached the end of the corridor, and there was a panel similar to the one they’d entered through in the library.
“We’re at the study, so my guess is that she was after something in there. Something that you would use these,”—his hand closed on the lock picks—“to access.”
Understanding hit her. “You think there’s an iron box in the study?”
“That we’ll have to find out from Billings—”
A door suddenly slammed, the walls of the corridor vibrating. Men’s muffled voices came from the other side of the panel. Violet’s heart drummed in her ears.
Richard held her fast, murmuring, “Steady, love.”
She couldn’t hear what the men were saying, but the cadence seemed adversarial. She identified the agitated voice as belonging to Billings; she couldn’t make out the owner of the other.
