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As the dance came to a close, Gray’s uneasiness at the continued absence of both Viola and Cordelia grew. Something felt amiss. He looked around. Lady Frome had engaged Bernie in conversation. Lionel was on the dance floor. There was no danger from either of them, but Gray thanked his partner and went in search of the footman who had handed him the note. The man said the note had come from a girl who took the basement stairs on the far side of the courtyard.

Gray took the tower stairs beyond the entrance, where some bottles of champagne had been stored. The stairs led down to the narrow passage where he and Cordelia had found the costume room. He called and received no answer. He stopped by the bench outside the costume room and lit a candle in a lantern and, holding it up, peered down the hall. At a little turning in the passage, a door stood open into a dark space.

He called again and got silence. A spurt of temper sent him forward. In a few strides, he reached the open door. The lantern revealed nothing inside, except what looked like tall stacks of old ledgers in crates.

“Hello?” he called.

“Ooh,” came a moan from the darkness.

“Miss Staveley? Viola? What game are you playing at?” he asked. He lifted the lantern and stepped into the dark chamber. Behind him the door swung in with an ear-piercing screech of metal on stone. He spun and put out a hand to stop the door. His foot knocked something in the dark, and a pile of ledgers collapsed, sending the lantern to the floor. The glass shattered, the candle went out, and Gray fell back against the wall. In the sudden blackness, he leaned against the stones, coughing in a cloud of moldy dust, his feet trapped by what felt like bricks.

“Are you hurt?” came a female voice. “Don’t worry. We won’t be here long.”

“Viola,” he said. He coughed again. “What is this about?”

“Oh, you recognize my voice?” she said.

Gray could tell that she was somewhere opposite him in the dark. He bent his knees, sliding down the wall, and tried to dislodge the old ledgers from his feet. “Let’s say that I recognize … your methods. What are you hoping to accomplish?”

“It’s simple, really. We Staveleys must get our home back.”

“And ambushing me in a closet helps, does it?” He managed to shift one of the top ledgers. Low in the stack, a sharp fragment of broken crate poked into his anklebone.

“It’s not a closet. It’s a dungeon.”

“Viola, closet or dungeon, what’s the point here?” He could not keep some annoyance from his voice.

“Well, it’s clear that one of us must marry you.”

“What? Marry me?” He was momentarily distracted by the recollection of Cordelia Staveley in her silver gown.

“Yes, and Roz can’t do it because she wants a Season. And clearly Mr. Winter has fallen in love with Mir.”

“Has he?” Gray shifted another ledger. Certain details of Winter’s behavior of late now made sense.

“Yes. Even though he has no money, you have plenty, so you could help them.”

“So, on the one hand, I’m the monster who deprived you of your home, and on the other hand, I’m the benevolent rescuer of young lovers.” Gray sounded cross, even to himself.

“Well, you could be, once you are part of the family. And you will be when you marry me, which of course, as a man of honor, you will be obliged to do when we are discovered in this … intimate place together.”

Gray swallowed his anger. She was a child with no idea of the real consequences of her scheme. Would-be seducers did not choose dungeons for trysts. Wiser heads would see through Viola’s plot and prevail. Of course, a lot depended on who found them. His choice would be Finch or Cordelia. Either of them would know exactly what to do. He concentrated on the heavy volumes that trapped him in place. It was possible that if he freed himself, he could get the door open.

“You mustn’t hate me. You must understand …” Her voice was small now. “Desperate action was the only course open to me.”

“Was it?” he asked.

“Yes, because you and Cordelia took such a dislike to one another. If there had been any chance of a union between you, that would have solved all our problems.”

“Cordelia dislikes me? She said so?” He found it hard to speak in the dust-filled air.

“Not in so many words, but …” she paused. “Do you hear that? Someone’s coming.”

He stopped pulling at the ledgers. The voices and footsteps of a number of people sounded in the passageway. He prayed that Finch was among them.

Chapter Twenty-Five

As Cordelia entered the courtyard, Graymont’s friend Finch came striding toward her.