Page 61 of His Wicked Charm

Alex would love this place. They would have to invite the newlyweds here as soon as they returned from their honeymoon. Belatedly, he realized that he was thinking of Barrow House as his and Lilah’s, the invitation theirs, not his. That was an unsettling thought.

Con left the hall and went up to the top floor. Here was the long gallery, added on years later. This floor, at least, had light, for windows lined the wall. But the pale glow of the moon only served to make the dust and cobwebs more visible, the emptiness more tangible.

Portraits of dead Holcutts hung on the long wall opposite the windows, gazing out from the shadows. Everything was coated with a layer of dust, and a deathly silence hung in the air. Con started forward quietly, as if not to disturb anyone.

Something caught the corner of his eye, and he turned toward the window. It looked out on the wide swath of grass separating the house from the untended maze. In the silvery moonlight, a white figure moved across the grass.

Lilah. The old glass distorted his view, but he was certain it was she...once again roaming about outside at midnight. What the devil was she doing? The suspicion that she was meeting someone flared in him anew, but he could not imagine who it could be. It was also difficult to believe that Lilah was carrying on any sort of deception at all.

As he watched, she stopped in front of the entrance to the maze. He waited for someone to join her, for her to go inside, for something to happen, but she only stood, still as a statue. Finally, she turned and started back toward the house.

Con whirled around and hurried back down the stairs. Blast it, he was going to find out what was going on. His candle flickered wildly, creating dancing shadows on the walls around him. Two flights of steps—why had he had to climb all the way to the top floor? He ached to run, but that would be suicidal on these narrow, uneven steps.

When he reached the hallway, he broke into a run. And that was his mistake. The rush of air blew out his candle, plunging him into the utter gloom of the Great Hall. He stopped, then started forward more slowly, one hand stretched out in front of him. The door into the other wing was directly across the room; as long as he walked in a straight line, he couldn’t miss it.

He made it across without running into anything, but it had cost him precious time. He trotted down the long hall. Thanks to the lamp he’d left burning in the library, the hall was illuminated enough to see his way. Con turned and went to the back door, coming out of the house onto the terrace. He looked toward the maze, but there was no sign of Lilah. Had she been that fast? He stood for a moment, listening. There was nothing but silence.

It occurred to him that he was acting the fool, running around all over the house, trying to find a woman who obviously did not want to be found. Lilah had a right to her secrets. If she wanted to ramble around the grounds at midnight, it had nothing to do with him. Turning, he went back into the house.

The hall was quiet, as was the corridor above. Lilah’s door was closed, no sign of light beneath it. Determined to put the whole thing out of his mind, he began to undress. Just as he was about to blow out the candle and get into bed, he heard something. Had that been the click of a latch? Turning, he opened the door. But the hall remained still and dark.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

LILAH CAME DOWN to breakfast in a cheerful mood, eager to get started. Unnaturally silent, Con fiddled with his spoon, watching her with an assessing gaze. Lilah shifted, faintly uneasy.

“I saw you last night,” Con said abruptly.

“Of course you did. We spent the evening together.” Whatever was the matter with him?

“I’m talking about later. I looked out and saw you standing at the entrance to the maze.” His eyes were focused intently on her face.

Lilah went cold. “That’s impossible. I haven’t been near the maze—other than when you and I went the other day.”

“Lilah...I saw you. There you were, in your nightgown, staring into the maze. Then you turned to come back in.”

She could feel, literally feel, the blood draining from her face. “You’re mad. I wasn’t. It was a...a trick of the moonlight. Why didn’t you come out and ask me what I was doing?”

“I tried, but you were gone by the time I got out there.”

“So you saw a figure flitting about outside, and then it vanished.” She felt on surer ground. “Con, you were dreaming.”

“It was not a dream. Unless I dreamed sitting in the library, reading The Ancient Mysteries of Somerset, as well.”

“No wonder you had a bizarre dream if you fell asleep reading that.”

“It was not a dream.” Con finished his words with a rap of his spoon against the table.

“If there was actually someone there, it must have been my aunt—she was probably out talking to the goddess of the moon. Or maybe it was one of the maids sneaking out to meet a man.” Lilah pushed back her chair and popped up. She no longer had an appetite. “I was in bed asleep. All night.”

Con frowned at her for a moment, then shrugged. “Very well. Let’s talk of something else. Are you ready to look into your father’s room?”

“What? Oh. Yes. I—I must, um, put on other shoes. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

Lilah fled from the room. It wasn’t true. Con was mistaken. Or maybe he was playing a joke on her; he had an odd sense of humor. She’d been asleep. She ran up the stairs and into her bedroom, where she startled one of the chambermaids.

Dropping down onto the hassock, she whipped off one of her soft-soled slippers. The sole of her foot was dirty. Her heart began to hammer. No, it couldn’t be...

She glanced around the room, panic fizzing inside her. “My nightgown. Where’s my nightgown?”