The butler’s lips twitched as he bowed before leaving the room. Was it normal for young ladies to show a guest the dungeon? Trevor took a sip of scalding tea and was handed a plate laden with biscuits and fancy little cakes by Lady Helen. She gave him a small grin that felt slightly predatory. How fanciful! These were proper young ladies under his dearest Mary’s tutelage, and their manners had been more than civil; they had been kind and welcoming. Pulling his knees together, Trevor decided that his concerns were all nerves.
Once he had finished his last biscuit, Lady Rebecca stood. “To the dungeons!”
Lady Helen also shuffled to her feet. “I will meet you there in a moment.”
Fiddling with his shirtsleeves, Trevor followed the two taller sisters down stone steps to a dark, cold corridor with a sinister aspect. Lady Frederica opened an old iron gate, and it made a creaking sound, causing him to jump. Lady Rebecca seemed unaffected by the atmosphere and walked through the gate. Lady Frederica followed her, leaving him a moment to gather his courage. He had never been in a dungeon before. Or a castle, for that matter. It was probably perfectly normal to be given a tour of a medieval torture chamber.
“There is the rack,” Lady Frederica said, waving one hand toward a wheel-like structure. “We tried it once and it really hurt. And over there is where they used to draw and quarter criminals, but up here is my absolute favorite: the gibbet. Some barbaric villages still use them, but our local town has not since the interregnum.”
The gibbet looked like an iron suit suspended in the air.
Clearing his throat, Trevor asked, “How precisely does one use a gibbet?”
Lady Rebecca turned back to look at him, her eyes wide and sparkling. “It was not used for torture but to hang the body afterdeath for an example to others of what happens to those who do not follow the law. The bodies would rot at a crossroads or other prominent viewing areas.”
“Why do you still have it?”
Lady Frederica chuckled but sobered quickly. “It is a part of our history. An ugly part, to be sure, but Stringhams do not hide from the unpleasant bits of the past.”
“Let us go to the cells!” Lady Rebecca said, forging on as if this entire experience was a special treat for him.
They passed through another iron gate to an area that was divided into several jail cells. There were long scratches on the floor and walls. A servant must have built the fire there when requested, for Trevor could see how the flame caused shadows all around the room, making it feel even more menacing. He did not wish to step inside, but Lady Frederica stood behind him and made a sound of impatience. It was the first uncivil action of the Stringham sisters. Stepping forward, he went toward the fire to warm his hands. A chill crawled down his spine, causing him to shiver. He never wished to step foot in a dungeon again.
“Why is there a fire lit in here?” a voice behind him asked. He recognized it at once: Mary’s cultivated tone. “Your parents specifically said that you are not to play in here since the incident.”
His entire body quivered. What incident?
“We were keeping your Christmas present warm,” Lady Helen said.
Turning, he saw Mary take a stutter step toward him. “Trevor? Trevor, is that you?”
He held open his arms, but when she reached him, Mary merely took his cold hands in hers and squeezed them tightly. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. He wished that he could wrap his arms around her and hold her tightly, but they were not married yet and they may never be. Yet he could have looked at her beautiful face all day. Her delicate nose, holding up her glasses that emphasized her intelligent eyes. Her sweet mouth, pink and kissable. A year had passed since they had last seen one another, but it did not feel like more than three days. A surge of love coursed through his veins, heating him as the fire could not.
The sound of the squeaky iron door closing with a clunk caused them to break eye contact. He watched over her shoulder and saw that all three of the duke’s daughters were on the other side of the iron grate and they were locking it with a key. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Lady Helen and Lady Frederica snickered and left. Only Lady Rebecca stayed to watch their horrifiedfaces.
“Becca, don’t let them do this,” Mary said in a sharp tone. “You know how displeased your father will be if you disobey me.”
Lady Rebecca lowered her head and looked very young. “But it is part of your Christmas present.”
“Being locked in a dungeon?”
She bit her lower lip. “Time alone with your betrothed. We know that it is not quite proper, but this way you have no choice. Therefore, you did no wrong. I will be back with the key in a few hours, Miss Perkins.”
Lady Rebecca gave them one last sorrowful glance before beginning to walk away from them, the fire causing her to cast a long shadow.
Mary broke away from him and went to the iron-grated door. “Becca, you get back here, or I will tell your mother when she gets back from London!”
Trevor saw that the girl paused but then continued walking until they could no longer see or hear her. Mary’s worried face glanced at him, and Trevor felt as if he’d failed her anew.
He attempted a small smile. “I do not mind being in a dungeon, as long as I am with you. I have missed you every moment of every day. I have wished for nothing more than to be at your side.”
Her shoulders slumped as she moved closer to him. Once again, he held open his arms for her, and this time, she fell into them. He squeezed her tight against his chest. How wonderful she felt! Her body seemed to fit perfectly against his.
Trevor’s temperature rose quickly. “At least there is a fire.”
Shaking her head, she stepped back from him. “There will be more than that. My charges are redoubtable girls.”
Trevor followed her to a corner, and he saw that there were several cushions stacked next to another pile of blankets. Mary stooped down and picked up something that appeared to be organic.A skin of some sort that caused bile to rise in his throat.