The Wicked Governess (Blackhaven Brides Book 6)(53)

Williams. His old sergeant beckoned him with a grin. Javan advanced hastily, bent and entered the hole. For the barest instant, his candle flame flickered over Caroline’s face, and then she blew it out.

“Is the whole household here?” he murmured.

“Just us,” Williams assured him as another, more muffled howl reached them. “He didn’t even see me lurking behind the sofa in the dark, just stepped out of here and went straight for the door. No light.”

“He must know this house like the back of his hand,” Javan remarked.

“Should do,” Williams said sardonically. “He’s here often enough. But look, he leaves his lantern here.” Williams reached behind him and lifted something, a blanket, to reveal the lantern beneath. For an instant, the light glowed on a narrow stone passage within the walls, and steep steps leading downward. Then Williams dropped the blanket back over it.

“Useful,” Javan commented.

“I must have passed him downstairs when I left you,” Caroline whispered. “For I’m sure the first howl came from there when I was half way upstairs.” In the cramped space, her breath caressed his ear with devastating effect.

“So you came in here to be safe?” he managed with cool sarcasm.

“To see how he got in,” she corrected. “I thought it was the plan. Where is—”

He cut her short with a finger over her lips, for his ears, trained for so many years to pick up the faintest sounds, told him their man approached.

Her lips parted in shock at his touch. And God help him, it was sweet, even in this slightly ridiculous situation. Shrouded in darkness, awaiting the approach of the enemy, there was something unspeakably sensual about her soft, warm lips against his fingertip, her ragged breath stirring the tiny hairs on his skin. Even when she was engaged to his cousin. He did not move as the library door whispered open and breath panted in the room, advancing on their hiding place.

With reluctance, Javan let his finger slide away. He tugged the blanket off the lantern, grasped it and stepped out into the room, straightening at once.

A young man stood frozen in the light, his eyes wide and frightened. It was no great surprise.

“Tom Nairn,” Javan said conversationally. “I thought it was you.”

As though released from a bow, Nairn whirled around and bolted for the library door—but Richard now stood there, placing a candelabra on the table beside him. Brought up short, Nairn spun helplessly, looking for an escape that didn’t exist.

At last, his shoulders slumped. He didn’t even try to fight when Williams advanced and collared him.

“Any reason we shouldn’t hand you over to the magistrate?” Javan asked sternly.

Nairn shook his head miserably. “I told him it was over. Said you came too close last time, which you did, and you weren’t going to leave anyway—”

“You want us to go so you can buy the house cheaply?”

“It’s for my ma. She used to work here, was lady’s maid to Mrs. Gardyn, and always dreamed of living here again, only as mistress. And when my da came into some money…”

“If you had frightened my daughter, just once,” Javan said coldly, “I’d kill you.”

The boy blanched. “I told him that. I said you weren’t like the other tenants and we were playing with fire, but he wouldn’t give up. Said he’d come himself.”

“Who? Your father?”

Nairn paused, then nodded.

But Javan had already picked up his hesitation. “Not your father?” he pounced, going closer, holding the youth’s frightened gaze. “Come on, man, spit it out. It’s your only hope.”

“I’d talked my da round. He didn’t like it, but he took my word eventually. Then he met this cove skulking around the farm and nearby land, and suddenly it was back on again. This cove don’t like you, paid my da to scare you one more time.”

“What cove?” Williams demanded.

“I don’t know his name,” Nairn insisted. “Not sure my da does either!”

“A slender, pale gentleman with a walking stick?” Javan hazarded.

Nairn blinked. “Oh no. He was no gentleman. Great hulking fellow you wouldn’t want to cross.”

Javan frowned. That, he hadn’t expected. Although the boy might be lying.

“How do you open the passage from this side?” Caroline asked. “We found the lever inside the passage, but we couldn’t find a way in from the room.”

Nairn hesitated.

“Magistrate,” Williams said decisively, tugging Nairn by the collar.

“No, wait!” Nairn resisted, desperately. “I’ll show you and I’ll swear on the Bible never to come here again if you just let me go. It’ll kill my ma if I get sent to prison and—”

“Stop whining and show us,” Javan interrupted.

Nairn drew in his breath, and Williams released his collar, allowing him to walk to the bell pull. Lifting the cord, he pulled it sharply to the right and the fireplace hole began to close with the same clanking grind Javan had heard so often before. Then Nairn pulled the cord to the left, and the secret door slid silently open again.

“Well,” Caroline said, impressed. “None of us thought of that.”

“I’ll be blocking this off,” Javan snapped. “At both ends. And you may tell your father I’ll have you both up before the magistrate—who is a friend of mine, incidentally—before you can say ‘help’ if I catch either of you within a hundred yards of my house or my family again. Or, if I’m angry, if my daughter is frightened in the slightest degree, I’ll just kill you where you cower. Do I make myself clear?”