He held up a hand to stop her. “If he takes comfort in it, I have no objection.” He paused. “Has this business with your meal occurred before?”
“It really isn’t important, Your Grace.”
He folded his arms and frowned at her. “Do you ever answer a question in a direct manner, Miss Harrismith?”
Jenny sighed. “I am sure they will tire of it.”
“I am not about to wait for them to tire of it,” he growled. “Rest assured, it will not happen again.”
“If I just ignore it…” Jenny rather feared that the duke’s interference would make things worse. She’d scandalized them, she supposed, waiting to meet him in the middle of the night. But it would be a brave servant indeed who disobeyed him.
He waved a dismissive hand. The matter was not up for debate. “I had considered sending the children to their aunt until this matter is resolved,” he said, almost to himself.
Jenny’s heart began an odd thrumming. She would have to seek a new position, and worse, she would never see the children again. She studied his handsome profile as her fingers found her brooch. Was it only the children? Or the duke himself? And she considered herself sensible! At the flash of inexplicable loneliness she tightened her lips on a sigh.
“Of course, I would ensure you found a position comparable to this one,” he said, guessing her thoughts.
“If you think it’s best, Your Grace,” she murmured, hating the idea.
“I’ve decided not to at this point. That is, if you wish to remain here with us? Under the circumstances I would understand if you do not.”
“But I do. Very much.”
“I am about to employ a guard to watch over you and the children until this business is at an end. Until then, don’t go anywhere without the footman.”
“William is used to visiting the stables alone. I shall have to tell him something.”
“That he is to be William’s new riding instructor. You have an argand lamp in the nursery. Light it and bring it to me.”
In the nursery, Jenny picked up the tinderbox and lit the lamp, wondering why he needed a lamp in broad daylight. When she returned, the duke beckoned to the footman who hovered several yards away. He ordered Jeremy into the schoolroom and told him to remain with the children until they returned.
She watched the duke carry the lamp along the corridor toward the steps leading to the tower. He turned to her. “Come with me, Miss Harrismith.”
Jenny hurried after him. A hundred paces farther along the lengthy corridor, he stood before a huge wall tapestry depicting the scene of a boar hunt. He moved it aside and pressed a panel in the oak wainscoting. Startled, she watched as the panel slid aside with a thud, to reveal aged, wooden steps wreathed in cobwebs winding downward. A dusty stuffy smell wafted out.
“I need to make sure the outer door is safely bolted.” He turned to her. “You might wish to remain here. It’s not a place ladies would care to enter, would you say, Miss Harrismith? His eyes gently mocked her. Annoyed at his inference, she leaned forward and gazed inside. It was horribly claustrophobic, and there could be rats. But she was curious, and she wasn’t about to refuse a blatant dare.
“I should like to see where it leads, Your Grace.”
A light sparked in his eyes. “Well? Come on then. Better for me to go first.”
She edged forward behind him, calling His Grace’s bluff, if that’s what he’d intended, and entered the narrow staircase. It smelled of centuries of dirt, mice droppings, and worse. The duke, who barely had enough headroom, had already turned a corner, and disliking the idea of being left behind, she darted down after him. If mention of this should reach the kitchens, she would starve to death. Fortunately the footman was in with the children, and there was no one to witness it.
The creaking stairs led them down in a dizzying spiral, the duke negotiating them at speed, the lamp held high, throwing eerie shadows in his wake. “These were used for a stealthy escape during the Civil War,” he said, his voice sounding hollow. “There was a bridge over the old moat not far from the stables which enabled them to ride away before they were discovered.”
The narrow stairway was every bit as unpleasant as she’d anticipated. The weight of the solid old house seemed to crush in upon her. A cobweb stirred by the draft blew across her face and tangled in her hair. She emitted a small squeak of horror.
He turned and held the lantern up. “Are you all right?”
“A spider,” she muttered breathlessly her hands raking through her hair, loosening hairpins.
He observed her with a grin. “The spiders are long gone.”
“How can you be sure?” she asked with a shudder.
“Have you seen one?”
“I’m trying not to look.”
