Marlow led me outside the library and down the dark, empty hall.
By logic, I knew this venture was a grave mistake. Poor judgment in the past had taught me that the eerie feeling now filling my stomach meant I should do the opposite of what I was currently doing, and yet, the overpowering thrill of a secret passageway, of ghosts, was too good to fight against. And Marlow took his part as my guide very seriously.
He held his candle under his chin so shadows would fall upon his face. “Through here,” he whispered, leading me into a room a few doors down.
I couldn’t help but grin at how ridiculous and impulsive he was acting. So unlike him, and yet, exactly fitting. There were three windows on the far wall, letting in just enough moonlight to illuminate a large pianoforte, a harp, and several tables and chairs. Paintings lined the walls. I hadn’t time for a closer view, for Marlow was on his knees, peeling back the pale-blue carpet in a dark corner to reveal a hidden trapdoor.
My pulse raced as I crouched beside him.
He pulled on the latch, and the door creaked as he liftedit up. Dark stone stairs led down, down, down into shadowy depths.
“Are you certain you are brave enough?” he asked me with serious, raised brows. Gone was the lordly duke. In front of me was a man—still half a boy—letting his imagination take the lead.
My heart flipped over itself, and I realized how badly I wanted this. I wanted to be here, with him, chasing shadows just for the thrill of it.
I did not believe in ghosts, but Marlow made me want to.
“I assure you, Duke, I am far braver than you.” I sat, one hand holding my candle in the cold, damp air, and swung my feet onto the first few steps. They were gritty and steep under my slippers. I had to push myself down to get started, and then I was up, descending into the darkness with no idea what awaited us ahead.
I heard his movements behind me, then the creak and swing of the door.
Total and complete darkness. If our candles expired ... well, we would see who was the bravest between us then. My feet touched flat ground, and I stumbled a step and hit the right wall. The walls were mud and stone, the same sort of material as the stairs, rough but not too unsteady. The passageway narrowed until we could not walk side by side. And with every step, the air grew colder and danker.
“Careful,” the duke said from behind. “Watch for bends in the path. If you hear anything—”
“The ghosts of your ancestors?” I teased.
“I was going to say perhaps a large spider or a rat—”
I sucked in a breath, stopping in my tracks. A rat? Ienvisioned red eyes, massive, pointed teeth, and a worm tail and shuddered. I’d seen field mice in the barn on occasion but never rats!
“—but perhaps the ghosts of my ancestors,” Marlow finished, his voice decidedly gleeful. “Is something the matter?”
“No,” I hurried to say. I took a few slow steps forward. “Just gaining my bearings.”
“I could walk ahead.”
“And leave the beasts at my back? No, thank you.”
He chuckled. He was enjoying scaring me far too much. And I was letting him!Be brave, for heaven’s sake, woman.If Emily St. Aubert, fictional or not, could face her fears, so could I. I drew in a few steadying breaths through my nose and lifted my candle high.See?Not a rat in sight. Nor spiders on the walls despite the few cobwebs.
I quickened my pace. Wherever we were, I’d make quick work of it. There was a doorway, he’d said, so the faster I made it there, the faster I’d be out of this place and to wherever it led. Apparently, I preferred reading about mysteries to living one.
Wherewashe leading me? If I endured all this only to be led to the kitchens—or worse, someone’s bedchamber!—I would ensure he reaped some sort of consequence, duke or not.
A scattering of rocks sounded ahead, and I stopped dead in my tracks. Marlow bumped hard into my back, and I tripped forward. His arm wrapped around me, and we swayed, candles in hand, breathing hard. My body tensed and tingled where his chest met my back, where his arm brushedmy shoulder, then steadied my waist. I could hear the thrum, thrum, thrum of my heart pounding in my ears.
“What was that?” His voice was a whisper in my hair. Slowly, his arm released me.
“Did you throw something ahead to scare me?” I breathed.
“You give me too much credit.” He did not laugh. “I’ve never done this before.”
I held my candle high, looking ahead for any sign of movement in the darkness. I could not see far enough to know for a surety that we were alone. “What, take a lady down your secret villain passageway?”
“Certainly not a live one,” he muttered at my ear.
I swatted backward at him, and he caught my hand and laughed.
