The Wicked Governess (Blackhaven Brides Book 6)(15)
“That was when the visitations lessened?” she asked.
He nodded, casting her a curious glance. “You’re very quick witted, Miss Grey.”
“Thank you.”
He sank onto the window seat she had vacated only minutes before and fixed her with his direct, curious gaze. “Are you not frightened away by this intrusion?”
She thought about it. It might have been his presence, but she didn’t feel scared at all. “No. I believe I would like him frightened off. He may be no physical threat to Rosa, but any stranger in her home is alarming and inexcusable. Hence my advice to inform the magistrate. Mr. Winslow is most helpful.”
“He may be, but I shall have him—our intruder—next time. All I have to do is find where the passage opens.”
Caroline frowned. “The clanking we heard must have been the secret door opening and closing.” She went to the fireplace wall, knocking it in various places with her knuckles in search of a hollow sound. The big fireplace made a likelier noise, so, under his apparently amused scrutiny, she knocked and poked in various places, eventually crouching down to try the lower tiles and twisting the decorative roses at the bottom.
“Enough, Miss Grey,” came his voice behind her, so close that it made her jump. She had been so involved in finding the passage that she hadn’t seen him move. His boots were planted close beside her. His hand appeared as he bent to help her rise. “While I appreciate your enthusiasm, I fear your continuous knocking is more likely than the howling to disturb Rosa and Marjorie.”
She flushed and tried to rise without his aid, but he caught her fingers and tugged her to her feet more swiftly than she was prepared for. She clutched the mantelpiece with her free hand, while he held on to her hand until she was steady.
“I apologize,” she said, mortified. “I’m afraid I got stupidly carried away. You are quite right.”
He stood too close. His warmth seemed to seep into her own. She could smell his distinctive scent, soap and sandalwood, and the hint of wine on his breath. Though it took conscious bravery to meet and hold his gaze, he did not appear to be angry. In fact, there was a hint of humor in those hard, grey eyes.
“There is no need for apologies,” he said mildly. “If Williams and I find it tomorrow, you will be the first to know. Though we had best keep it from Rosa, at least until we’ve caught the miscreant and blocked up the passage.”
“She is bound to hear you knocking from the schoolroom,” Caroline pointed out.
“Then we’ll pretend to be checking for woodworm.”
“And if you don’t find the passage?”
“Williams or I will sit in here every evening until our intruder returns. One way or another, we will find it.”
His eyes weren’t really hard at all, she decided, just veiled, secretive. In fact, reflecting the glow of the candles on the mantel shelf, they were warm, intense and rather beautiful. The shadows emphasized the strong lines and hollows of his face, and she had the sudden, insane urge to touch the ridged scar on his cheek.
Somehow, she managed to nod. She didn’t seem able to breathe freely enough to speak. His lips curved into a faint smile, drawing her gaze, and her wayward thoughts. How would they feel against hers? How did such a man as Javan Benedict kiss?
Shocked by her own speculation, she almost snatched her hand free and slipped past him.
“Yes, please do let me know what you find,” she managed to say as she walked to the door. “I shall be most intrigued. Goodnight, Mr. Benedict.”
She wasn’t sure he answered, but she did feel the heat of his gaze burning into the back of her neck as she fled.
Chapter Five
It was some days before Serena, the new Marchioness of Tamar, noticed the absence of her sisters’ governess. For one thing, she was absorbed in the wonder of her marriage and the joy of being with her new husband. For another, no one troubled to mention it to her. She only discovered it when Tamar set up his easel in their bedchamber one morning, and she used the opportunity offered by his preoccupation to go in search of her sisters.
Her sisters had visited her new apartments several times since the wedding, and she and Tamar had dined with the family after her mother and brother’s failed departure for London. But Miss Grey’s absence had, stupidly, not occurred to her until she walked into the schoolroom and found it empty. When calling for her sisters elicited no response, she wandered down to the drawing room. In the long gallery, she encountered her brother, striding off to his study, no doubt, since the steward was at his heels.
“Gervaise, where are the girls?” Serena asked. “Are they out somewhere in the rain with Miss Grey?”
Braithwaite paused. “Ah. Go on to the study,” he instructed his steward. “I’ll join you directly. Serena…” Drawing her further away from the drawing room, where, no doubt, their mother lurked, he said low, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Miss Grey. She had a letter from home that upset her.”
“She’s gone home?” Serena said in surprise. “I wish she would have said goodbye!”
“Well, no, not home,” Braithwaite said uncomfortably. “I found her alone in the schoolroom—upset, as I said—when I was looking for the girls. I stayed to offer a word of comfort, and of course, Mother walked in and immediately read the worst into an entirely innocent situation. The devil was in it that the door had blown over and she chose to believe Miss Grey had closed it deliberately and was somehow trying to trap or inveigle me into marriage.”