“Speaking of Romans, I believe that they are the ones who built this.” Stepping forward, he headed in the direction of the doorway. “The architecture is reminiscent of their style.”
Shaking her head in dismay, she went after him. “Under the ground like this? It makes no sense.”
With a shrug, he said, “Unless they knew about the cave, built the tunnel to allow for easy access to the sea, and then constructed this room as some sort of transitional area.”
“I suppose anything is possible at this point,” Mary agreed. Even so, she wasn’t quite prepared to discover a hallway beyond the doorway—least of all one with a sweeping staircase at the end of it. On either side of the hallway were a series of rooms, each concealed by a wooden door similar to those inside Thorncliff.
Unable to contain her curiosity, Mary reached for the handle closest to her and pushed down. The door swung open, revealing a room that was equally Roman in style, though the furnishings suggested that it had been used in more recent years. Any doubts that this might have been the case were immediately eliminated by the presence of a large painting that hung on the wall—an impressive portrait of the former king.
“It looks as though this might have been used as a study,” Richard said, peering past Mary’s left shoulder.
She stepped aside so he could enter the room properly, watching as he walked across to the large desk that formed the centerpiece. “Anything of interest?” she asked when he opened a drawer and pulled out a book.
He didn’t answer immediately, flipping instead to the first page and taking a moment to read. Too curious to wait for Richard to offer an explanation, Mary hastened over to where he stood and looked down at the text herself. It appeared to be the title page of a personal notebook, reading simply:The Cardinal Truths.
Mary frowned, uncertain of what that meant. Richard turned the page, revealing an elegant script that seemed to fill the entire page. At the top was a date.1780.Below it, Mary read:
Our duty, as described below, defines us. It runs through our veins and keeps us on a steady course, guiding us in the name of justice. We are the defenders of the weak and the protectors of the poor. Our sacred oath is first and foremost toward God. May He give us strength and courage in the years to come.
“Do you recognize the handwriting by any chance?” Mary asked.
There was a brief hesitation before he answered. “As a matter of fact, it bears a striking resemblance to my late grandfather’s.”
“Your grandfather’s?”
Richard nodded absently. “He was a close friend of Lord Duncaster’s father.”
“So then, Lady Duncaster knows you well?” She hadn’t realized, though it did explain the countess’s insightful words when she’d spoken of Richard.
“Yes. Or rather, she used to. Our families have been close for as long as I can remember.” Closing the book, he placed it just as they had found it. “It is growing late and we have been gone for longer than I expected. We ought to return to Thorncliff.”
“And abandon our search?” It felt as if he was asking her to do the impossible. “At least take the book with you.”
He shook his head. “I feel as though it would be wrong of me to remove it from here. We can come back tomorrow, preferably at an earlier hour if you can manage it.” Turning toward her, he forced her back a step. “But if your aunt discovers that you are not in your bed where you are supposed to be—”
“I claimed a headache like you suggested and insisted upon a good night’s rest,” Mary said, determined to argue his point. “She will not disturb me.”
“Nevertheless,” he insisted, already pulling her toward the door. “If she finds you gone, then you can forget about coming back here any time soon or of ever seeing me again.”
Knowing how right he was, Mary reluctantly followed him out of the room, surprised to discover that it was almost two o’clock in the morning by the time she returned to her bedchamber. She’d spent over three hours in Richard’s company, yet the time had flown by, making it feel like no time at all.
Careful not to make a sound that might wake Amy, whom Mary had insisted should go to bed, Mary snuck inside her room and closed the door gently behind her. It didn’t take too long for her to undress, thanks to the gown she’d selected, which wrapped across her front and fastened at her sides. Letting down her hair, she then pulled on her nightgown, attended to her toilette and climbed into bed before retrieving the book that she’d brought up earlier in the day from the library:Debrett’s Peerage and Baronetage.
Fluffing up her pillow, she leaned back with the book in her lap and opened it, determined to get a better idea of who Richard might be. He’d mentioned siblings, and the way in which he’d spoken of his parents suggested that they were still alive. Considering all the people she’d seen at dinner since her arrival at Thorncliff, Mary looked up each family in turn, checking to see if any of the peers had a son, or even a nephew, named Richard.
Of course, there was every possibility that he might have given her another fake name. In fact, the thought had just occurred to her by the time she reached the Earl of Oakland’s family. Her index finger trailed below the fine print listing the earl’s name, his date of birth, title and parentage, along with other relevant information. Next was a mention of his wife, with similar details attached, followed by theirissue: Christopher Maxwell Heartly, Viscount Spencer, born, 1790. Below him, Mary found Spencer’s sister, the Duchess of Stonegate’s name, along with a mention of her previous marriage to the Earl of Newbury, and then... Richard Anthony Heartly.
Her breath caught and she sat up straighter, leaned forward and continued to read. Born, February27, 1795, at Oakland Manor in Wiltshire near Swindon. Fought at the battle of Waterloo, 1815. Reported missing in action.
It had to be him. The coincidences were just too great.
Setting the book aside, Mary scooted down beneath her blankets and turned down the light. Her heart felt jittery. No wonder Lady Duncaster had been willing to vouch for him. She’d been right. Richard... Mr.Heartly, that was... did indeed come from a very good family. And if she married him... Good lord, she could scarcely breathe at the very thought of such a possibility.
She bit her bottom lip, not wanting to ruin her excitement with thoughts of her brother and the duty that she had toward him. Wincing, she turned on her side. Mr.Heartly worried that she would not care for his appearance, but at least his actions were commendable. She, on the other hand, was a scandal waiting to be discovered. And yet, he had approved of her singing, so perhaps he’d understand? Perhaps he might even be willing to help her deal with her brother’s difficulties? It would be so much easier to share the burden with someone, but would he be open to the idea or would he judge her harshly for what she’d chosen to do?
One thing was certain: she wouldn’t know until she told him the truth.
Chapter10
