Page 30 of Sir Andrew and the Authoress

At the back of the closet, his finger found a narrow split in the wall that may have been nothing more than the uneven meeting of two boards. But he knew better.

For one brief instant, he considered leaving Josephine alone. He could walk out of the closet, close the door behind him, and pretend he hadn’t seen a thing.

Except… He searched his mind for a credible reason to go after her. She was within the castle walls. That meant she was safe. Obviously, she wished for privacy, slipping away alone as she had. Josephine had spent most of her time alone of late. He had sensed on more than one occasion she missed Emma. Was that reason enough to follow her? Suspecting loneliness didn’t mean it would please her to see him.

And that thought stung more than he thought it would.

Except what if she meant to do something foolish again, such as she had when she visited the rector without an escort?

With a gentle press in the right place, he opened the door in near silence, and soft blue light came through the doorway. He stepped through, careful to close it behind him, and looked up. The winding staircase went both directions, descending into shadow and rising into light.

His feet took him silently upward, his intuition pointed him to Josephine. His mind turned about his mental map of the castle and he knew precisely where they were. The false tower.

He made not a sound, but he could hear the soft sound of Josephine’s humming above him.

Then he turned the final step, bringing his eyes level with the landing—the only floor in the tower, shining in blues, golds, and lavender light that filtered through the stained glass in the faux arrow-slits meant for decoration rather than any practical purpose.

Until that moment, he had thought only two towers in the castle had any way to enter them. One was the clock tower, which served as a rookery for the duke’s hunting birds. The other was in the center of the castle, where the duke’s flag flew when he was in residence. The family used it mostly for storage.

But here he found Josephine, her back to him, as she leaned toward an open window, her head tilted to rest against the arched stone.

The room couldn’t be more than eight feet in diameter. Worn rugs covered the floor. Cushions lay piled in the center, against the stone column rising from the staircase. Various other objects were scattered around the room, but he had no chance to inspect anything else.

Josephine ceased humming. Slowly, as though reluctant to discover what had disturbed her, and with rigid posture, she turned.

He took another step up, revealing head and shoulders to her. Then he took another step. He offered what he hoped she’d see as a non-threatening smile as he rose, step after slow step, until he was only one away from the landing. He leaned his shoulder against the stone column.

Josephine’s hands opened and closed into fists at her side, over and over, and her face remained a mask of uncertainty.

“Andrew.” Her eyes darted to the side where several books and a traveling desk were stacked atop one another. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to ask you that very thing.” He hesitated. If he took that last step into territory she had clearly made her own, her calm facade would most likely explode in fury or indignation. Or something with a measure of both. He hovered as he would at any doorway when uncertain of his welcome. “I did not know there was a room here.”

“I don’t think anyone does.” Josephine spoke with a tightness in her voice he hadn’t heard before. “It isn’t much of a room.”

He looked about again, his eyes lingering on the glass. “Why are you up here all alone?”

She took a step forward. “I had rather not say.”

Andrew raised his eyebrows. “Ah. Well then.” He pushed away from the stone and tugged at his coat sleeves as though to straighten them. He had one last card to play. “Perhaps I will put that question to Simon. He might find your whereabouts of interest.”

“Andrew, no.” She rushed forward, coming to within a foot of him. “Please. Don’t say anything to Simon. Or anyone else.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “I have kept it to myself for so long. I have no wish to explain myself, or to have the tower invaded by anyone else.” Her deep blue eyes pled with him so earnestly, he nearly felt sorry for threatening to speak to Simon.

Still. “No one else knows about you being up here?”

“Emma did.” Josephine turned away from him, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “But only Emma.”

Although the two ladies had always been thick as thieves, Emma had always had a practical mind beneath her playful nature. “What did my cousin think of your reason for being up here?”

“She understood. I think.”

“And you do not think me capable of the same?” he asked, feigning insult.

“It isn’t as though I have ever taken you into my confidence before.” She paced away, murmuring, “Until lately.”

“If you are referring to the visit we paid to the rector, I hope I have proven myself trustworthy in that regard.”

She nodded. “You have. And I thank you for it. But this is…different.” Her voice grew softer on the last word, and she lowered her gaze to the carpet.