“It was the times, Althea. But the men in my family haven’t always behaved well. My grandfather gambled away most of our fortune, and the less said about my father the better.”
“That has all changed with you,” she said briskly. “The oubliette sounds horrible.”
Flynn grinned. “I’ll take you to see it after dinner. As a boy, I found it better to view during the night.”
She smiled. “Well, that tells me something about your boyhood. You were adventurous and perhaps a little naughty.”
His gaze sought hers. “I don’t believe I’ve changed that much.”
Althea laughed. “Perhaps not. I will enjoy setting things to rights here while you’re away. I have experience of managing a large house.”
“I cannot ask that of you.”
“I should like to. I must have something to do.” She smiled. “I’m not keen on sketching.”
His eyes clouded. “I’m afraid there’s very little money….”
“It would require only a small amount, but I hope it will stretch to a couple more servants.”
“Thank you. I had intended to employ more. I would be grateful if you took things in hand. The house needs a woman’s touch.”
“Your cook is another treasure.” She forked up a mouthful of feather-light pastry.
After a dessert of apples and walnuts topped with a sweet sauce, they returned to the drawing room, where coffee was served.
She studied the painting above them as she sipped the hot brew. The lady’s style of gown placed her in the latter part of the last century. “Your mother?”
“Yes.” His short reply offered her no invitation to continue.
Althea would not be fobbed off. After all, she had just revealed her deepest secrets. “Was she young when she died?” she prompted.
He sighed heavily. “No…as a matter of fact, my mother died very recently.” He hesitated, then withdrew a letter from his coat and handed it to her. “I received this just before we left England.”
As Althea read it, her heart grew heavy with sorrow for him. “It seems both our lives have been blighted by sadness, Flynn.”
“Indeed.” Flynn stretched his shoulders.
Althea understood that gesture. It was as if casting off a heavy weight. She wanted to reach out and draw him to her, not merely to satisfy her own need, but to bring him comfort. All her doubts about Flynn had fled. He was a good man, a fine man. What a pity his mother had not stayed to know him.
As he promised, Flynn took a branch of candles and led Althea down to the dungeon. At the bottom of the steps, he stood in front of a heavy wooden door. Holding the candelabra high, he unlocked it, and entered the dank room with a nervous Althea close behind. In the center of the room, Flynn lifted a trapdoor to reveal a narrow, sunken space beneath an iron grill. A ladder led down into total darkness, smelling of sour, dank air.
She flinched, imagining the despair of those imprisoned there. “They actually left poor souls down here?”
“I believe they did. Hundreds of years ago.”
With a shudder, Althea stepped back, away from it. Flynn dropped the trapdoor, but the chill followed them out into the passage.
She was relieved to see Flynn lock the door. She yearned to return to the light and air above them. This was far worse than the closet Freddie had locked her in when she was eight. Flynn took her arm and returned to the welcome warmth of the drawing room where she moved closer to the fire seeking to dispel the chill. “When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow.”
“As soon as that?”
“I can’t let Crowthorne’s trail grow cold.”
“No. I suppose not.”
She fought to hide her disappointment. Through the gap in the curtains, darkness cloaked the landscape. The fire burned dully and the candles fluttered, the smoky air scented with beeswax. Shadows crept into corners. Grateful that Flynn seemed to sense her need for quiet, or perhaps wished it for himself, she nestled in her chair. It was companionable and peaceful, but a knot of unease tightened her throat. There was so much unspoken, unfinished, between them. And now time was growing short. Flynn was about to walk into danger once more. How many times could he emerge unscathed? She was terribly afraid for him.
“Flynn?”
“Yes?” He lifted his head, and his eyes swept over her.
Her heart lurched madly. She had never seen such yearning for her in a man’s eyes before. Desire, yes, covertness, but never this. She drew in a deep breath as she climbed to her feet.
“I believe I’ll retire.”
Flynn stood and took her hands. “I might not see you in the morning, Althea. I’ll leave very early.”
“God speed, Flynn.” She left the room.
