Placing her hand against Amy’s shoulder, Mary told her seriously, “If anything were to happen to me, then you must tell her the truth.” She retrieved her hand. “But you must not worry. I will be perfectly fine.”
Amy sighed with resignation. “If only you would enjoy needlework and poetry like other young ladies.”
“I find such activities far too tedious, and besides, I am not like other young ladies.”
“No, you certainly are not.” Crossing her arms, Amy said, “Your aunt will have both our heads if she ever finds out.”
Mary nodded. “Yes. She will.”
“And yet you still insist on going through with this?” Amy shook her head. “It is unwise.”
“It is necessary!” Softening her tone, Mary said, “Besides, she has not discovered what I am up to yet, and it has already been two years.”
“I hope you are right,” Amy said as she helped Mary put on her cloak, “because in my experience, secrets always have a way of surfacing.”
Unwilling to argue the point, Mary wished her maid a pleasant evening, accepted the lantern that she offered her, and slipped out of the room and into the dimly lit hallway beyond.
Sipping a cup of coffee that Spencer had brought up to his bedchamber a short while earlier, Richard stood, surrounded by darkness, and looked out at the silhouetted shapes of the garden. He hadn’t been able to sleep during the day, his mind consumed by thoughts of Lady Mary, of what she’d said about appearances and character... of her beauty.
Seeing Rotridge so close to her, against her will, nonetheless, had put him in a rage. Perhaps because of her innocence—the knowledge that she was untouched by any man—pure, but with great passion simmering beneath the surface. He hadn’t thought twice about tossing the earl aside, barely resisting the temptation to pummel him. Discipline had helped keep him in check. That, along with the disturbing thought of allowing Lady Mary to witness such brutality.
So he hadn’t slept as he usually did during the day, though not for lack of trying. Eventually he’d tossed the sheets aside and risen, allowing himself the luxury of peering out at the garden from between a thin parting in the curtains, only to see her in Belgrave’s company.
Even now, the anger he felt at the memory of it was acute. More so now that he knew her true position on marriage—that the right man might stand a chance. God help him if he didn’t want to be that man. For although they’d met only twice before, they had been two remarkable times. And the letter...I could not help but feel a certain connection with you.She might not have made any promises, but with that comment, she’d bound them together anyway. Surely she wouldn’t say such a thing only to encourage another gentleman’s favor?
He thought back. Belgrave had made her laugh. Richard felt his shoulders tense. He gritted his teeth. What the devil had Belgrave said that she’d found so amusing? Closing his eyes, he leaned forward, setting his forehead against the cool glass of the window and expelling a deep breath. He couldn’t even compete for her hand on equal terms. Not looking the way he did. Not when he didn’t want anyone to know that he was even at Thorncliff. In England. Alive.
Her hand... In marriage.
Impossible.
Leaning back, he set his coffee cup aside. He didn’t know her well enough to entertain such thoughts, had not so much as kissed her yet. But he wanted to. Desperately. And the idea of forming a more permanent attachment sent a thrill through him. Perhaps because it had been so long since he’d been with a woman? No. It wasn’t just that. It was her—the kindness she emitted, the intelligence brimming in her eyes, her openness and the way in which she responded to him. There was an attraction between them that stirred his blood, tempting him to forget his plans and all that he’d worked for these past five years. If he was wise, he would keep his distance from her so he could focus on what still remained to be done.
The terrace door opened below and Richard watched as a woman stepped out, light flickering from the lantern she carried. It was her. He knew it even though she’d pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head. Mesmerized, Richard watched as she crossed the terrace to the right as if she were heading toward the same place where she’d invited him the previous evening. But she hadn’t invited him tonight, which made him wonder about where she might be going and, more to the point, whom she might be planning to meet. Belgrave, perhaps? The thought rankled.
Letting the curtain slide back into place, Richard spun away from the window and grabbed his mask and cloak from the wardrobe, putting them on as he crossed to the wall-panel next to the bed. A slight nudge was all it took for it to spring open, revealing the passageway through which he always found his way in and out of the house.
Snatching the lantern that stood on his bedside table, he stepped inside the narrow passageway and closed the wall behind him. It didn’t take long for him to exit into the stairwell he’d shown Lady Mary, descending at a pace that quickly led him through the small antechamber and into the garden beyond.
Taking a moment, he glanced around, hoping for a hint of Lady Mary’s whereabouts. Met by nothing but darkness, he started in the direction of the Greek folly, his hasty footsteps grating against the graveled pathway until he stepped onto the lawn. Hidden behind a row of trees, this part of the garden had been divided into long walkways, interspersed by neatly trimmed grass quadrants. The folly stood to the right, but further along, to the left of it, a tiny dot of light acted like a beacon—there, then gone, then there again, according to Lady Mary’s movements.
She shouldn’t be out here like this, late at night and alone. It wasn’t safe. He hurried after her, eager to know her purpose. If Belgrave was involved, he was not as honorable as Richard had thought him to be, but an irresponsible cad, luring her so far away from the house. Richard clenched his fists. But if hewasn’tinvolved... some of the tension eased from Richard’s body as he considered that possibility, even though he couldn’t fathom what else might have prompted her to show so little regard for her own safety, let alone her reputation if someone happened to see her.
The light disappeared through between some bushes toward a part of the property that Richard had never visited before. Drawing closer, he realized that there wasn’t even a proper path here, just a narrow gap that led him through to a wide slope. Glancing down, he saw the light some distance below, moving off to the right. He muttered a curse. The woman was clearly mad to risk coming here in the dark. If she were to fall and hurt herself, nobody would even hear her calling for help.
Careful of his own steps, Richard had no choice but to move more slowly than before as he descended toward the flat ground below. His chest was tight with concern for the lady by the time he reached it. Was she not aware of the peril she placed herself in by venturing this far from Thorncliff? Having vanished from view, Richard could only continue in the general direction that he’d seen her go, his lantern casting a steady glow against the slope as it grew in height by his side. The grass upon it gradually disappeared, giving way to the jagged outlines of rocks. His heart beat faster. This was no place for any woman. He considered calling her name and letting his presence be known. If thiswasBelgrave’s doing, Richard would have no qualms with letting the viscount know that he thought him an ass and an utter scoundrel for suggesting such a hazardous location for his midnight rendezvous with her.
A faint sound drifted toward him, carried upon the breeze like a boat upon a wave. Holding still, Richard listened as it hummed through him, heightening each sensation. A melodious tune that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else:Singing. His stomach contracted with pleasure. It couldn’t possibly be her, could it? And yet he knew, before he found the parting amidst the rocks, before he stepped between them, and before he rounded the corner to discover the vast cavern that awaited... he knew without a doubt that it was her. And so it was; her voice loud and clear, filled with light and goodness as it soared through the air—a creature released within this secret place beneath the ground where no one else would ever hear it.
Turning down the flame of his lantern, Richard set it aside and leaned into the darkness, fearful that she might stop her song if she noticed his presence. He recognized the piece immediately. It was one of his favorites—Porgi, Amor, from Mozart’sMarriage of Figaro. He’d heard it a dozen times before he’d gone to war, though never with this degree of pure talent. It was so unexpected that he practically forgot to breathe.
Turned slightly away from him as she sang, he could only see the profile of her face, partly concealed by shadows. Even so, there was no mistaking the raw emotion that she shared through her voice. It filled the cavern, wrapping itself around him as he stood there, confounded by her skill and her passion for the music. He’d noted it when they’d first met, but this... he had no words for it. She was like a supernatural being descended from the heavens to convey a message from God.
Responding to each and every note—to the rise and fall of the song, his soul seemed to extend beyond the confines of his own body, reaching out to share in the divinity of the moment. But then she turned, muted as she met his gaze, and he realized that in his captivated state of awe, he’d stepped away from the darkness and gone toward her, like a sailor lured by a mystical siren.
Chapter7
Mary caught her breath, her skin prickling with tiny bursts of heat the moment she saw him. “Why are you here?” She had to say something in order to break the strange silence now hanging between them. Knowing that he’d heard her—that he’d spied a part of her soul—unnerved her in the most peculiar way. Indeed, he might as well have caught her in a state of complete undress for all the difference it made.
