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‘Yes, well—matter of fact, I’m not, terribly,’ Hyde drawled. ‘No time for all that out in India, y’know, but one has to admit books look the part in an English country house. The second baronet created this room, dear Great-uncle Aubrey.’
‘He’s the one in the painting in the hallway? The tiger hunter?’
‘That’s the chap. Family scoundrel. Quite a character—we still have all his papers here, of course. As a matter of fact, I started going through them, years ago, writing a sort of biography thing. Fascinating chap. Must pick it up again when I have more time. Now, why don’t we—’
Praying for them to leave, Kate scarcely dared breathe. Jem Arden stood below her, very still, his back against the wall and his head bent. She couldn’t see his face, only the hollow at the nape of his neck where the hair grew to a soft point. Close up, she noticed that it was the tawny brown of old tortoiseshell, which looked black until you held it up to the light and saw that it was shot through with gold. He would have been blond as a boy, she found herself thinking.
‘Oh—that’s the tower on the hill, isn’t it?’ The tap of Miss Addison’s feet came closer, and Kate pictured her going over to the fireplace to look at the painting that hung over it. ‘The one I saw when we arrived. What did you say it was called?’
‘The temple. Another of Great-uncle Aubrey’s projects. It’s the gatehouse of the old hunting lodge that was demolished to make the present house; dates back to the sixteenth century. They kept it as a sort of folly, but Aubrey kitted it out with carved panels from a temple in Pondicherry and used it as a gambling den.’ He gave a snort of laughter. ‘He used to invite chums to Coldwell to worship in the temple.’
‘A scoundrel indeed,’ Miss Addison said dryly. ‘But how perfectly thrilling to find an Indian temple in darkest Derbyshire. I should love to see inside.’
‘Oh—place has been locked up for years. Supposed to be a curse on it, because of the Indian loot. Poppycock of course. It’s just a dashed inconvenience—too far from the house to be worth bothering with. Right then—if you’re ready, shall we—?’
‘What charming prints!’ Miss Addison’s footsteps advanced, until her voice was only a few feet away, on the other side of the panelling. ‘They’re Indian too, aren’t they? They look terribly old—oh! Goodness me…’
‘My dear Miss Addison, I did try to warn you.’ Hyde’s tone was blustering and defensive rather than apologetic. ‘A gentlemen’s club, you see. Not for ladies’ eyes.’
‘Nonsense.’ Miss Addison recovered her composure admirably fast. ‘You forget I’m a country girl, Mr Hyde, from farming stock; I’m not easily shocked. They weren’t what I was expecting, that’s all, but they’re rather beautiful… It’s our modern way to make a fuss about propriety and modesty and so forth, isn’t it? I’m not saying it’s wrong, but these are a reminder that the love between a man and a woman is very natural and as old as time, don’t you think?’
‘Indeed I do, Miss Addison, though of course one must be careful not to frighten the horses.’ Hyde gave a bray of uneasy laughter. ‘A time and a place for everything, I say.’
The silence that followed felt endless. Kate couldn’t imagine what was going on a mere few feet from where they were concealed, but she was aware of the warm scent of Jem Arden’s skin; its clean masculinity. His head was still bowed, and her eyes traced the curve of his cheekbone, the thickness of his eyelashes. She was close enough to see the faint stippling of stubble on his jaw, though he must have shaved that morning, and a small scar, faded and well healed, just above the edge of his eyebrow. She imagined lifting her hand to touch it… And then Hyde spoke again, his voice gruff and awkward.
‘Talking of which… well, the thing is—I’m a bit long in the tooth for turtledoves and all that “language of flowers” business, but… Well, there comes a time when one thinks of settling down. Don’t get me wrong—I’m an infernal old bachelor, too set in my ways and too damned happy in them to change much. But time is ticking on, and a man in my position has certain responsibilities…’
Slowly, Jem Arden raised his head and his eyes found Kate’s. Breaths held, they gazed at each other, silently acknowledging that they were about to become accidental witnesses to a proposal.
‘So you see, I need a wife and Coldwell needs a mistress. The last thing I want is some delicate slip of a girl who can’t look out for herself, and it seems to me that you’ve got a bit of backbone and a sensible head on your shoulders. No silly notions. An arrangement that suits us both. What about it, Leonora? Reckon you could take on this old duffer and his crumbling old pile?’
Jem’s eyes were grey. Darker at the edges, like the pools of silvered water you came across on the moors. He shook his head a fraction at the crassness of the proposal, its utter absence of romance or sensitivity, and Kate had to bite the inside of her cheeks to stifle a sudden smile. On the other side of the door. Miss Addison stammered, ‘Oh, heavens… gosh… thank you! I mean, yes. Please,’ and Kate remembered Henderson’s words. She’s hardly in a position to say no… The smile died again.
There was another beat of silence. Her gaze was still locked with Jem’s when they heard the unmistakable sound of a kiss, and for a moment she forgot that it came from Randolph Hyde’s damp lips. A meteor shower of stars shimmered through the darkness inside her. Suddenly light-headed, she put her free hand out to lean against the wall, but found herself gripping his shoulder instead.
‘Good show, old girl, good show.’
Randolph Hyde’s voice was loud, hearty with relief and self-congratulation at this tricky piece of business concluded so easily. ‘Now that’s settled I rather think it calls for champagne, don’t you?’
Clicking his fingers, he gave a sharp whistle and the spaniel’s claws skittered on the polished floor. As the dog passed the staircase, his wet nose appeared beneath the door again, sniffing frantically. Kate’s hand tightened on Jem’s shoulder.
‘Boy!’
The shout was more distant now, Hyde’s voice echoing back as he bore his newly acquired fiancée off like one of his hunting trophies. Kate’s head swam with relief and she exhaled heavily at the same time as Jem, so she felt the tension leave his body. Hastily she withdrew her hand from his shoulder, smoothing her skirt, untwisting the chains of her chatelaine, preparing to step out of this tiny space and rejoin the everyday business of the house.
They didn’t move.
She felt shaky. Unready. Slowly she held out the visitors’ book and he took it from her, not meeting her eye now. She had intended to find out whether he was telling the truth about being asked to find it by Lady Etchingham, but she knew that she would say nothing. Just as he would say nothing about what had just happened. About them hiding together in the cramped space of the staircase while the future of Coldwell was forged only a few feet away.
It would be impossible to explain to anyone else; awkward and improbable, and faintly incriminating for them both. And so they were bound together in an unspoken conspiracy of silence.
Keepers of the same secret.
Chapter 5
‘Thank God that’s over.’
Up in the footmen’s attic Thomas tugged at the knot of his white bow tie and pulled it off with the relief of a man ducking out of the hangman’s noose. On the other side of the room Jem Arden was shrugging off his shirt, and Thomas tried not to stare at the well-muscled chest that it revealed.