The footmen immediately fell into step behind her.
She descended the staircase quietly and made her way towards the library, where several more footmen already stood guard outside the door.
Without a word, she entered to find the Baron seated near the fireplace, in the very spot where Wolverton had been.
She glanced towards where they had hidden the body, but the bookcase had already been moved back into place and the space cleared. She briefly wondered where Lord Stanley’s men had taken Wolverton. An outbuilding, probably.
Still frustrated but determined to remain practical, she adopted a businesslike tone.
‘My lord, how is it that you are unaware of these secret passageways in your own mansion?’
Her question came out more sternly than she intended, earning her a raised brow.
‘I assure you, there were no passageways when I resided here. Matthew must have installed them later... though for what purpose, I cannot imagine,’ came his dry response. He watched her wearily as she stood before him.
Charlotte nodded. ‘Then we ought to begin here.’ She pointed towards the wall dominated by the great fireplace. ‘I am certain the passageway must be on this side of the room.’
He did not immediately move, but instead rose and studied her before replying slowly, ‘You look exhausted.’
Before she could object, he crossed towards her and gently clasped her wrist, guiding her to the nearest sofa. Then he sat beside her.
Charlotte drew an involuntary breath. Surely no gentleman had ever sat so close to her before—or was it simply that no other gentleman had ever made her conscious of it? She firmly pushed the thought aside.
‘Hmm, and...’ He pursed his lips as though reading her mind. ‘You are still annoyed about the engagement. I apologise for that. But given the state in which we were discovered, I assure you it was the only solution that occurred to me.’
In truth, she was no longer angry about it. Merely confused by her increasingly contradictory thoughts regarding the man seated beside her.
‘I daresay I cannot fault you for your quick thinking. We did look... ruffled,’ she replied. ‘I suppose I shall eventually find it in myself to forgive you.’
A wry smile tugged at her lips.
‘Excellent.’ Apparently satisfied with his small victory, he rose. ‘Now, let us begin.’
Together they searched the walls, pressing along panels, inspecting every alcove and nook, and examining carvings for hidden catches or levers. Half an hour passed with little success. Her hands became dusty, her skirt hopelessly crumpled, and her arms began to ache.
After some time, they began removing books from the shelves lining the wall, hoping to discover a mechanism hidden behind them. But there were hundreds of tomes stretching from floor to ceiling across the entire wall. At this rate, they would remain there all night.
Then, on one of the upper shelves, a volume caught Charlotte’s eye. The spine bore a now-familiar symbol: a rose entwined with a vine.
She climbed the ladder and reached for it.
Strangely, the book felt far too light.
Charlotte examined the marking more closely. It was the same symbol she had seen on the parchment Matthew Stanley gave her... on Wolverton’s snuff box... on Boulton’s ring... yet she had never looked closely enough to notice. Here, enlarged upon the spine, the truth was unmistakable. What she had first taken for a vine was not a vine at all, but a serpent coiled around a rose.
A sudden chill swept through her.
‘I believe this is the Odd Fellows’ symbol,’ she said quietly.
Lord Stanley took the volume from her and examined it grimly. When he shook it lightly, something rattled within.
He opened the hollowed-out book.
Charlotte peered over his shoulder, curiosity overriding decorum. ‘Well? What is it?’ she demanded, annoyed that his broad frame blocked her view.
He turned. Resting in his hand was a large black wrought-iron key.
They exchanged an instinctive look of understanding.
