Blackmoore(6)

“No. Not much.”

I nodded, chewing on my lip. The question that rested there, on the tip of my tongue, I did not dare to ask. But I wanted to know—needed to know—if he had built this for me. If it meant something. If I meant something.

“Now I suppose I shall be indebted to you and I shall have to find some

way to pay you back.” I drew in a breath, my face hot with awkwardness.

“Since you gave up your holiday and Miss St. Claire . . .”

Henry cut a glance at me, then smirked and said, “I didn’t build this for you, Kitty.”

“You didn’t?” Relief mixed with disappointment rushed through me.

He shook his head. “No, you ungrateful brat, I did not.”

He leaned closer, tilting his head, examining the model. Then he grasped the tiny door handle on the front door.

15



J u l i a n n e D o n a l D s o n

“I did it,” he murmured, swinging open the miniature front door, “for

your toes.”

I stifled a gasp of delight. Bending my head down, I peered through the

open front door and saw a black-and-white checkerboard floor, a fireplace on one side, and an arch at the furthest end of the room, leading to a staircase.

I bit my lip to keep myself from grinning, and then I blinked hard to keep myself from crying. It was simply too much. “My toes thank you,” I finally whispered.

I could feel the width of Henry’s smile, even though I did not look at him.

It was like a ray of sunshine on my face, and my cheeks grew warm. Then

he pointed at the model and said, “It has thirty-five rooms, twelve chimneys, two wings, a conservatory, stables, and a top-notch view. There is, reportedly, a secret passageway that was once used by priests during the Reformation, although I will neither confirm nor deny it, as you will, no doubt, find it more intriguing and mysterious if you have something to wonder about.”

I pulled my gaze from the model to his face. He was talking quickly, saying something about the library containing over three thousand books. But all I could see was Henry, with the light in his grey eyes and the smattering of faded freckles across the top of his tanned cheeks and his dark golden hair falling over his brow and the quirk of his lips when he smiled as he talked.

“It faces the ocean and is backed by the moors,” he said. “And now you

know.” A note of accomplishment entered his voice. “Now you know exactly what Blackmoore looks like. Someday you will see it for yourself, as I have promised.” He met my gaze with a warm smile. “Until then, you may keep

this.”

16







Chapter 3


Present Day


A knock sounded at the door—two raps, a pause, and then two more raps. It was Oliver’s code. I looked up sharply, startled out of my reverie.

Another four knocks. Still Oliver. I opened the door carefully, just a crack, so that he could not see into my room—so that he could not see the ruined model of Blackmoore.

Oliver stood close to the door, his brown hair hanging over his hazel eyes. He needed a haircut. I would have to mention it to Cook.

“What is it?” I asked, hoping he did not notice my distress. I lifted the corners of my lips for his sake, trying to smile, when I would have done it for no one else.

He beckoned me closer, crooking one dirty little finger. I bent my head ,and he loudly whispered in my ear, “Mr. Cooper is coming to dinner.”

I pulled back. “No.”

He nodded. “I heard Mama say so to Cook.”

That disgusting Mr. Cooper whom I had refused was coming back?

Mama must have given him reason to come back. She must have led him 17



J u l i a n n e D o n a l D s o n to suppose that I had changed my mind. That was it, then. I would have to run away.

“Thank you, Ollie,” I sighed.

He stuck out a hand. “Do you have a penny? For a treat? Please?” He gave me such a winning smile that I could not resist. I took two pennies from my reticule and put them in his hand. Before he could pull his hand back, I grabbed it and turned it over, then clucked my tongue with disap-proval. “Go and clean your fingernails, little man. They are atrocious.”

He laughed, his eyes lit up with a mischievous gleam. “I like them atrocious.” He ran down the hall, clutching the two pennies, and I could not help but smile as I heard his loud footsteps clatter down the wooden steps. He was the one person I would miss when I left tomorrow for— I stopped my thoughts. No. I was not leaving for Blackmoore tomorrow. The despair struck me again. No Blackmoore, and I would have to endure Mr. Cooper’s company at dinner? It was too much.

Just then the sound of a whistle lifted through the air and filled the room. It was a blackbird’s song. I hurried to the window, set my hands on the sill and leaned out, looking down. Henry stood below my window, his hands cupped around his mouth as he whistled.

“I have set up the target,” he called out. “Come shoot with me.”

I shushed him with a finger to my lips and turned back to the room.

I hurried to put the model back inside the chest, locking it tight and returning the key to its hiding place before turning back to the window. I threw one leg over the windowsill.

“What are you doing?” Henry called from the ground below.