“A heated chamber that ancient Romans used for relaxation,” she explained. “According to Miss Letty, her great-great-grandfather had dreamed of building one. She assumed that if he had started constructing one, it had been destroyed by the fire that nearly burned the entire spa. Yet it was right here all along. Literally hidden beneath our noses.”
“This place feels more like a closet than a chamber for relaxation,” Godwin muttered. “A man can hardly move around in here.”
“Not all men are as big as you.”
“So I’ve been told.”
At his smug look, she felt her cheeks flame.
Why does he have to be so crass? As if there were any doubt about the size of his manhood. The only thing to rival it is his arrogance.
She decided to rise above. “This seems like an antechamber. Do you see any entrances that might lead into the caldarium?”
Godwin held the candle up, examining the walls.
“Here.” He pointed to a seam in the stone from which sporadic wisps of steam escaped. “But where is the mechanism to open it?”
They both looked at the statue.
“The corridor to the caldarium was revealed when I pressed on the satyr’s face,” Godwin said. “I’ll try the same with the statue.”
He pushed on the bearded visage. Gigi heard a click, then a rusty squeal. As some inner mechanism worked, there was the sound of metal grinding against metal. Slowly, in fits and starts, a section of the wall parted, revealing an inner chamber.
“The caldarium,” she breathed.
Eagerly, she raced inside. The air was warm and humid due to the round pool in the middle of the room. By some miracle, the hot springs had continued to feed the pool, steam curling from its surface. Next to the pool was a stone platform large enough to fit three or four people. The angled backrest allowed guests to recline as they soaked up the heat. Along the caldarium’s perimeter were private alcoves where bathers could relax upon benches.
Gigi did a gleeful turn, taking it all in.
“I cannot wait to show Miss Letty,” she exclaimed. “This secret caldarium will be her pièce de résistance. It will guarantee the spa’s success.”
When Conrad shot her a look, she remembered belatedly that he was her adversary. Despite their inexplicable chemistry, they were at cross purposes. Moreover, they were opposites in personality: he was callous and calculating, the least sentimental man she’d ever met. She didn’t even like him. And from his perspective, she was a silly, naïve lady with too much time on her hands.
As he opened his mouth, probably to say something disagreeable, a screech tore through the chamber. She cringed as the sound of metal-on-metal grated across her eardrums. The next instant, the door to the caldarium slammed shut, sealing them in darkness.
Chapter Ten
“Bloody hell,” Conrad bit out.
“Can you open the door?” Gigi peered over his shoulder.
“If I could, would we still be trapped inside this goddamned cauldron?”
“It’s a caldarium.”
Gritting his teeth, he planted his feet and pushed at the door, trying to slide it open. It didn’t budge. He pushed harder, his muscles bulging against damp seams. He put all his power into it, calling upon his years of strength training as a prizefighter. The chamber was sweltering, heat radiating from the pool and the ground. Sweat poured from him as he shoved at immovable stone.
With a frustrated oath, he gave up. “The mechanism used to open and close the door is broken. Based on that unholy sound we heard, a chain probably snapped, and the door is too heavy to move without it.”
In the candlelight, Gigi’s eyes were huge. “We are trapped?”
“For now. In a few hours, Miss Caldecott will undoubtedly discover where we are. At that time, she’ll have to fetch someone to break through the door.”
“But I will be ruined if I am discovered here with you,” Gigi moaned.
He resisted the urge to kick the door, which would accomplish nothing except possibly injure his foot. Disgusted, he said, “If there is a problem, I will take care of it.”
Although he did not wish to bear the consequences of compromising the well-bred chit, Gigi’s look of utter horror grated on his pride. Bloody hell, she could do worse—a lot worse. While she didn’t know that his pedigree was, in fact, a match for hers, she was aware that he was wealthy as sin. Plenty of women would give their eyeteeth for the privilege of being Mrs. Conrad Godwin.
