Seduction Becomes Her (18 page)

Working his way toward the section of wall that Daphne had described, he stopped before it and affected much interest in the pattern of the Chinese silk wall covering. “This is quite lovely,” he murmured as he studied it closely.

“I believe,” Goodson said, “that it was hung when Sir Huxley’s mother came here as a bride, sir. I understand that it is all the rage now, with the Prince of Wales loving all things oriental, but Sir Huxley’s mother was considered quite ahead of her time.”

Charles wished the day were brighter and not so gray, but squint and stare though he did, he could find nothing that resembled a crack or crease in the wall before him. Certainly nothing that looked like a doorway had once existed in this vicinity. Daphne may really have imagined the doorway. He could certainly see no sign of it.

Continuing to study the wall, Charles asked, “Did Sir Huxley’s mother institute many changes in the house?”

Goodson smiled. “According to my grandfather, who was the butler then, during the first few years, she always seemed to have some new project in mind.”

“Did she make any changes that you know of to this room?”

“As a matter of fact,” Goodson said, “she did. That was one of things that Mrs. Hutton and I discussed. This room was originally part of the master’s suite until Lady Beaumont had the area where Sir Adrian now sleeps converted into a grander suite, and they moved into them. There was a doorway over here that led to a sitting room with the mistress’s bedroom and a dressing room beyond that. It would be an easy task to reopen the entrance and would give you and”—he smiled—“Mrs. Weston an excellent suite of rooms.”

Charles was aware of a stab of disappointment. It would seem that there was nothing supernatural about Daphne’s outline of a door beneath the wallpaper. His features bland, Charles said simply, “Show me.”

Crossing to the other side of the room, Goodson said, “The original door is right here behind this armoire. Lady Beaumont didn’t even have it fully closed off. She and Sir Huxley’s father thought, should their son marry during their lifetime, that he and his bride would be able to use this suite for themselves.”

Charles hid his astonishment. The armoire was on the opposite side of the room, nowhere near where Daphne had claimed to see the outline of a door. Could he have misunderstood her? No. He was positive of his location, and it sure as hell wasn’t on the opposite side of the room. “Really,” he said as if he found Goodson’s words fascinating. “Over here, you say?”

Goodson nodded as Charles strolled over to his side. “You can’t see the doorway because of the armoire,” Goodson explained, “but with the help of a few sturdy footmen, we can have it moved to a different location.” He looked a bit embarrassed. “The rooms haven’t been used in decades, sir, and will require some refurbishing, but I assure you that we can have everything ready for you by the wedding. Would you like to see the sitting room and the other bedroom?”

After a considering glance at the huge ancient oak armoire, Charles said, “Of course.”

Leaving Daphne’s room, Goodson led Charles a short way down the hall. Coming to a large door, he opened it and after taking down one of the candles from the sconces that hung on either side of the door and lighting it, waved Charles inside.

The place smelled musty and unused, but not unpleasant, and with a couple of days of opened windows and a thorough cleaning and airing of the drapes and rugs, that particular problem would be solved, Charles thought as he followed Goodson into the shadowy gloom. Goodson’s candle revealed a handsome room with a carved ceiling and several pieces of furniture cloaked in dust covers. Crossing quickly to a tall bank of windows, Goodson threw back the heavy honey-colored velvet drapes in an attempt to dispel some of the shadows. Even with the drapes thrown wide, there still wasn’t much light coming in through the dirty windows, but Charles glimpsed an exquisite old rug in shades of amber and green on the floor and realized that the flooring itself was a beautiful walnut parquet. An imposing green marble fireplace dominated the far wall; a gilt-edged mirror hung above the mantle. Nearby, he spied a set of double doors that led, he supposed, to the other bedroom.

He said as much to Goodson, and the butler nodded. “Yes, that is correct, sir. Miss Daphne’s room was used by the master, and these rooms were for his wife.”

After Goodson opened one of the doors, Charles followed him into another spacious room, the furniture hidden beneath dust covers looming ghostlike in the gloom. Charles didn’t waste much time on the bedroom and sitting room. They would suit him well enough.

Walking back into the sitting room, he looked around and finally found the doorway into Daphne’s bedroom hidden behind a heavy drape, giving the illusion of another window. Pushing aside the fabric, he grasped the crystal knob and after a bit of a struggle, opened the door. The rear of the armoire in Daphne’s room met his gaze.

He took another glance around the sitting room and nodded to Goodson. “Yes, I think this shall do nicely once it has been aired and cleaned.”

Goodson beamed at him. “I shall tell Mrs. Hutton, and she will have the maids start on it immediately. Would you like to see the furniture? It is old-fashioned but quite elegant. I’m sure that we can change anything that does not meet with your approval.”

“Ah, no,” Charles said hastily. “I’m sure that I can trust you and Mrs. Hutton to see that all is as it should be by the day of the wedding.”

Charles bid Goodson good day and walked slowly down the broad, sweeping staircase to the lower floor. A moment later, he rejoined Daphne in the salon.

At his entrance, she stood up, questions in her eyes. Charles shook his head. “I looked,” he said, “but I could see no sign of any doorway.”

Her face full of disappointment, she said, “Are you certain you looked in the right place?”

He nodded, and after refilling his snifter, he said, “Believe me, I stared at that Chinese wallpaper until I thought my eyes would cross.”

Daphne stiffened. “Do you doubt my word?”

Charles shook his head. “No. I just tend to think that in your confusion and terror, perhaps you
thought
you saw the outline of another doorway that night. You examined the wall by the light of a candle, and it’s possible that in the uncertain light, you were deceived in what you saw.”

“If you think that,” she snapped, “then why do you believe I saw the female apparition? Why don’t you think I didn’t imagine her, too? You didn’t see her in my room either, yet you claim to believe me. Why not the doorway?” She shot him a hard glance. “You cannot just believe in part of what I tell you and dismiss the other.” Passionately, she added, “I
saw
that outline. I did not imagine it, and it was not because I was frightened and my bloody candle threw shadows! It was there, I tell you!”

Charles realized that Daphne was absolutely correct. He hadn’t seen the ghost, yet he believed her about that, and if he believed her about having seen a ghost in her bedroom, why not the doorway?

“I apologize,” he said. “And you’re right. The doorway is part and parcel of this whole affair, and I was mistaken to dismiss it so lightly.” He frowned. “It could be that it was the presence of your little ghost that caused it to appear. It’s possible that your doorway is important to her, that there is some relationship between her appearance and the outline.” He rubbed his chin. “Did you know that your bedroom was once part of the master’s suite of rooms?”

When Daphne shook her head, he continued, “According to Goodson, it was Sir Huxley’s mother who decided to make a new suite of rooms for the master and mistress of the house and moved them down the hall. She was also the one who had the Chinese wallpaper hung. Something else I discovered—that big armoire in your room hides the doorway that leads to the original sitting room and the mistress’s bedroom and dressing room. Goodson gave me a tour. He and Mrs. Hutton will be preparing them for us and opening up the doorway between your bedroom and the sitting room.” He took a swallow of his brandy. “We shall be quite comfortable whenever we are in residence here.”

Daphne reseated herself on the sofa, her thoughts whirling. It gave her a queer feeling to think that she had slept in that room for months now and never once guessed that the old armoire hid a doorway into another set of rooms. In one way, she was pleased. She’d grown comfortable in her bedroom and the knowledge that upon her marriage, she wasn’t going to be moving into a different part of the house was comforting. But Charles’s words brought something to mind that had been troubling her for a while. How often and how long would he be willing to live at Beaumont Place?

They had never discussed precisely how their time was to be divided between the two estates. Daphne knew that Charles could not simply abandon his own home, Stonegate, in favor of Beaumont Place, but she didn’t think it right either that Adrian, until he was of age, be compelled to abandon his own lands and home. Of course, there would be trips to London for the Season, especially once April was brought out, and she was positive that Adrian intended to make a dash in London, but where, she wondered, would they all live when they were not in London?

Uncertainly, she eyed Charles. He had promised that he would not separate her from her brother and sister and she believed him, but where did he plan on them living? Stonegate? Her heart sank. She had grown to love Beaumont Place and the surrounding area, and she wasn’t happy at the notion of leaving behind her friends in the neighborhood, such as Vicar Henley and his family. And what about Goodson and Mrs. Hutton? Would they stay here or go to Stonegate? Her heart sank even lower. It had to be assumed that Charles already had his own servants, and so it was unlikely, even if only until Adrian was of age, that he’d hire Goodson and Mrs. Hutton to run Stonegate. She bit her lip, dreading the idea of being a stranger again and having to find her footing in a new house, with new servants, and all that settling into a new place entailed. A new home, she reminded herself, not a place. A home. Stonegate would be her home. And Charles would be her husband.

She looked down at her clasped hands, not willing to speculate too much on all the changes that were happening in her life at the moment. Charles would be her husband, but Adrian and April’s needs could not be pushed aside. She understood that her new husband would have his own estates to consider, but what about Adrian’s? Did Charles intend to leave Adrian’s holdings in the hands of someone like Mr. Vinton and for them all to live at Stonegate with just the fleeting visit now and then to Beaumont Place? He would have the power to do just that.

She glanced at him, studying him beneath her lashes. He was a handsome, powerful male, a man she had known a matter of days, a man she would marry in just over three weeks. What did she really know of him? She knew that he could make her knees melt with a mere look and that he had been kind to Adrian and April and for what it was worth, that he was wealthy and related to an earl. She admitted to herself that she trusted him on some instinctual level, else she never would have agreed to the marriage or told him of the spectral sighting in her room, yet there was so much she did not know about him. Again, she reminded herself that soon enough he would hold her life in the palm of his hand. All of their lives, not just hers. She trusted him…but did she trust him enough?

Aware of her covert stare, Charles asked, “What? You’re looking at me as if I have suddenly sprouted horns.”

Daphne flushed. “I was just, er, wondering—after we are married, how often you think we shall be staying at Beaumont Place?”

“Afraid I might lock you in the dungeon at Stonegate and throw away the key?” he demanded, a bite in his voice.

“That’s unfair,” she protested. “There are two large estates, two homes involved, with farms and tenants and servants and a myriad of other things. One is yours, and one is Adrian’s. We’ve never discussed what your plans are in regard to either one of them. When we marry, not only is my life in your hands, but until he reaches his majority, Adrian’s also. And until she marries, April’s as well.”

That she did not quite trust him was obvious. That she placed the welfare of her brother and sister above all else was also obvious. That she loved Adrian and April first, last, and always was obvious, too, and he wondered bleakly if the day would ever come that she would allow him a small place in her heart. Would he always come second to her brother and sister? Charles pinched the bridge of his nose. “I suspect that we shall divide our time between the two places and London,” he said finally. “If I am needed at Stonegate, then we will be there; if Adrian is needed here, then we shall be here. I have no set plan.” He gave her a steady look. “Naturally, once we are married, I shall expect us to spend time at Stonegate. It will be your home and for as long as they wish, the home of your brother and sister, but I imagine we will spend an equal amount of time here. Your brother has an excellent man of business, as do I; between them, I think they will be able to see to things when we cannot be here.” He made a face. “Or there.”

She still looked wary, and he came to sit beside her on the sofa. Taking her hand in his, he said, “Daphne, I cannot promise you that everything will be as you wish. There may be times that I will demand you put my desires above those of your brother and sister. I may be required to be at Stonegate for a time, and if I am, then I shall expect you to be there, too. Your brother and sister will always be welcome. We shall certainly spend time here—it is your brother’s home. He is young yet, but one day, he must oversee his own estates, and he cannot learn everything he needs to learn living at Stonegate—I understand that. I know that we will be here often, perhaps more than I would like, but I am willing to do it, certainly in these early years. Adrian must learn the ways of his lands, become the true master here, and I will help him in any manner that I can, but I will not lie to you—I will not sacrifice my lands for his.” Something implacable entered his face. “Nor will I sacrifice my life for his,” he said bluntly, “or allow you to do so.”