Seduction Becomes Her (29 page)

But Charles was not done with her yet. As she floated slowly back to earth, he was there, caressing her, nibbling once more at her breasts, his hand gently moving through the curls at the V where her thighs met. Small shocks of pleasure still rippled through her, but then as they ebbed and Charles continued to taste and explore her, heat built beneath his hand, and the magic began again.

His mouth caught hers, his kiss hot and urgent, and when he parted her thighs and lowered himself between them, she was eager for him. Daphne’s arms tightened around him, and like a flick of flame, her tongue met and slid along the length of his, stoking the simmering fire that leaped higher and higher between them.

Charles possessed her in one frantic thrust, sliding deep within her, his hands on her hips holding her, positioning her beneath him as he plunged again and again into her. The soft sounds she made, the clench and clasp of her molten heat around him each time he sank into her was exquisite torture, the urge to drive harder, deeper, and faster warring with the longing to make this moment where they rocked on the edge of completion last forever. He fought to hold this moment, fought to meet her pumping hips, but his body demanded succor. Daphne’s low keening cry was his undoing, and he could not stop the rush, could not stop his seed from bursting from him. With something between a growl and a moan, he rode the wave, taking Daphne with him as the world vanished and they drowned in pleasure.

For a long time, they remained locked together, too satiated and replete to move. Eventually, Charles slid from between her thighs and lay beside her. Daphne turned her head to stare at him. Wonderingly, she touched his dark face. “I think,” she said slowly, “that we were just very wanton.”

He smiled. “Do you? Did you like being wanton?”

Dreamily, she said, “I think that I could become quite accustomed to it.”

He nuzzled her neck. “Then perhaps we shall do this often.”

Some time later, Charles descended the stairs and made his way once more to the library. He rang for Goodson, and when the butler arrived, he said, “Would you please inform my cousins and the countess that I wish to speak with them here as soon as possible? Also, bring a tray of refreshments for us.”

Goodson bowed and said, “I shall see to it immediately.”

While he waited, Charles lit the kindling on the hearth and once that was crackling nicely, threw on several applewood logs. With the snap of the fire in the background, he returned to the Beaumont family papers, idly turning this page and that, not certain what exactly he was looking for amongst the documents. A confession to all his wrongdoings written in Sir Wesley’s own hand would be nice, he thought. Or at least another mention of Katherine. And the fate of the child she carried. He didn’t disagree with Daphne’s belief that their little ghost was Sir Wesley’s child bride; he had the same sense that it could be no one else.

The sound of the opening of the door jerked his head in that direction, and he smiled as Marcus walked into the room.

Bearing a strong resemblance to both Julian and Charles, although not as striking as the resemblance between the other two cousins, Marcus had always been the quieter, the steadier, and least reckless of the three. The one cousin, Charles thought smiling, most likely to advise them to proceed carefully and not rush into scandal and danger. For all the good it did, Charles admitted to himself.

His expression wary, Marcus walked toward him, saying, “I mistrust that look in your eye. I sincerely hope that you are not about to spring something unpleasant on me.”

Before Charles could reply, Goodson appeared with a tray and the requested refreshments. He was still serving Charles and Marcus when Julian and Nell entered.

There was polite chatter as Goodson went about his duties, supplying everyone with a mug of the spicy punch, the scent of cinnamon and cloves mingling pleasantly with the faint hint of the burning applewood in the room. His services no longer needed, Charles dismissed him. He followed the butler to the door and once it had closed behind Goodson, Charles very deliberately locked the door.

Marcus, standing with one hand resting on the mantle of the marble fireplace, cocked an eyebrow at Charles’s action. “Secrets, cousin?” he asked.

Julian, seated on the damask sofa next to Nell, glanced at Charles as he joined them by the fire. The expression on Charles’s face chilled him, and he demanded, “What is it? Why have you gathered us here?”

Without preamble, Charles told them all. He explained the reasons for his trip to Cornwall, confessing his own inability to find any trace of Raoul to support his feelings and ending with the discoveries that he and Daphne had made.

“Daphne knows of Raoul?” Marcus asked sharply. “You told her about him and then dragged your bride of only days along with you while you searched for proof that he is still alive?”

Charles sipped his punch. “Yes, I did—and my bride would have it no other way. I did attempt to send her back here, but she would have none of it.” A faint smile flitted across his face. “Daphne is rather, er, intrepid and not to be swayed when the mood takes her.”

Her eyes dark with anxiety, Nell leaned forward. “Do you really believe that Raoul is alive? And somewhere in this area living off the jewels that his mother secreted away for him?”

“I do,” Charles said flatly. “And my reasoning is thus: we never found his body, and we should have. There have been at least two women, if not three, ripped to pieces in the manner that Raoul preferred. And many of Sofia’s jewels are missing, jewels that I know she owned, jewels that I saw with my eyes. Do I know the extent of her private jewel collection? No, of course not—the woman bought jewelry like a starving jackal attacks a week-dead carcass. But I know of several pieces that are missing, and it makes sense that she gave them to Raoul to hide or even hid them for him. We found no jewels at the house in Poole, but we did discover a cache hidden on his yacht.” Charles’s mouth tightened. “Whether any will be found in his Brighton or London rooms or at his hunting lodge or any of the other places he would have had access to remains to be seen.”

“But Nell never dreams of him anymore,” declared Julian impatiently. “Surely that counts for something.”

“Perhaps,” Charles said, “for some reason the link between them has been broken. Nell may no longer be beset by nightmares but doesn’t mean that Raoul is not alive.”

“This is ridiculous!” snapped Marcus. “Just because we didn’t find his body doesn’t mean that he is alive. He was shot in the chest,
twice,
I might add, and he fell, what? Twenty or thirty feet down the sluice hole. It’s true the cavern below led to the river, but I hardly think he could have survived the river in the condition he was in.
If,
and it is a big if, he survived your bullets and the fall, he would have drowned once he reached the river. He’s dead.”

Julian agreed with Marcus, but it was Nell who said slowly, “All of that is true, but suppose he kept a small rowboat there?” She swallowed. “And used it to escape?”

Julian studied her pale features. “It is possible, but…”

“Not only possible, but highly likely,” Charles said. His gaze traveling from one intent face to the other, he said, “I am convinced that he and Sofia, most probably Sofia, planned ahead for the day that Raoul’s monstrous behavior would be exposed.” He glared at Marcus. “The jewels
are
missing. And Daphne and I
did
find a cache of jewels on his yacht. And do not forget that bodies of women have been found here in an area that he frequented often and was familiar with.” He looked down at his gleaming boots. “I am convinced,” he said harshly, “that Sofia gave him much, if not all, of her personal jewelry and instructed him to hide it in places he could reach should the worst happen. Nell’s idea that he might have had a small boat ready with who knows what sort of supplies in it makes perfect sense. What is to say that he didn’t have another hiding place nearby? A place we didn’t know about that he could escape to initially, regroup, and then move on and…disappear.” His mouth grim, he added, “Raoul wouldn’t have thought of it on his own, but Sofia bloody well would have.”

Marcus took a long drink of his punch. Julian stared at the fire. Nell’s eyes were fixed on her lap, where her fingers were so tightly clasped the knuckles shone white, like bleached bones. Taking a sip of his own punch, Charles waited, knowing that each was considering the situation.

Julian spoke first. His voice heavy, he said, “Very well. It is possible.”

In a small voice, Nell added, “I think it is more than possible. I think it is true.”

Marcus sighed. “I don’t know if it is true or not, but I’ll concede that it is not beyond the realm of possibility.” He looked across at Charles. “So what do we do now?”

“Find him,” Charles said.

“And where do you suggest we begin?” asked Marcus in exasperation. “You’ve already admitted that you’ve found no trace of him here. How do you expect us to do any better?”

Charles smiled tauntingly. “You’ve always thought that you were wiser than me—here is your chance to prove it.”

It was a dicey moment, and Charles wondered idly if Marcus might actually attack him, but his cousin apparently throttled back any murderous tendencies he felt and laughed instead. “Damn you,” Marcus burst out, appreciative amusement gleaming in his eyes, “I suppose I shall just have to do that.”

Julian rose from the sofa. A hint of a smile around his mouth, he murmured, “I have always said that Charles’s audacity is the only thing that makes him bearable. It is so pleasing to be proven right. Again.”

Someone tried the door to the library. “Charles? Are you in there?” asked Daphne from the other side.

Charles opened the door and ushered her inside, locking the door again. From the friendly expression on her face, no one would have guessed her inner turmoil as she walked up to the trio at the other end of the room and greeted them. As she took a seat in a chair near the fire, however, the covert glance she cast them was wary.

Nell sent her a warm smile and said, “Do not be alarmed. He has told us about the jewels and his belief that Raoul is still alive. We believe him.”

Relief crossed Daphne’s face. “Oh, I am so glad. I feared that you might think him, us, quite mad.”

Julian smiled at her. “If you are mad, then we are, too. Your husband has convinced us of the possibility that Raoul may, indeed, still be alive.”

“Only the possibility?” Daphne asked.

Marcus nodded. “Charles is thoroughly convinced that Raoul is alive, and it seems that you are, too. Until there is proof to the contrary, we are willing to help in any way that we can.”

It wasn’t quite the enthusiastic endorsement that Daphne could have wished for, but it sufficed.

For several minutes, the conversation centered on Raoul and how they were to proceed. They were all in agreement that they must investigate cautiously and in secret.

Conscious of the passing time and of the fact that any second, Adrian or April might come looking for her, Daphne said, “We can discuss this later, but at the moment, I am worried that one of my siblings may come looking for me.” She rose to her feet, and twitching out the folds of the skirts of her pale mauve gown, she added wryly, “My brother is young, but he is not unintelligent. Should he discover us here behind a locked door, he would know instantly that something was afoot.”

Charles nodded and walking over to the door, unlocked it and threw it open. “Do you think this will disarm him?” he asked lightly.

“No doubt,” Daphne replied, walking toward him.

She was just stepping past Charles when Adrian appeared in the doorway. “Here you are!” her brother exclaimed. “Been looking all over for you.” He glanced beyond her and seeing the others, smiled and said, “Oh, hullo. Didn’t realize that everyone was in here.”

“We were just leaving,” Daphne said quickly. “Uh, the countess wished to see the library, and I have been showing her the room.”

“And a very pretty room it is,” said Nell, rising to her feet, smiling at Adrian. “You are fortunate to have such an extensive collection of wonderful books.”

Adrian grinned. “Wasted on me, I’m afraid. Not much for reading.”

“No,” said Charles, a teasing gleam in his eyes. “You are much more likely to be found hanging around the stables mooning over some showy hack I wouldn’t allow one of my tenants to own, much less own it myself.”

“Unfair!” declared Adrian, not at all put out by Charles’s words. His face alight with laughter, he looked at Marcus and urged, “You tell him, Mr. Sherbrook. You saw my stock. You said you liked it.”

Marcus smiled and clapping Adrian on the shoulder, said, “Pay him no mind. My cousin has always had a very high opinion of his own opinion, even when no one else agrees with him.”

Julian laughed. “A hit! I congratulate you, Marcus. Seldom does one slip beneath Charles’s guard.”

Smiling, Charles waved Daphne and Nell toward the door. “Do you know,” he said sotto voce, “I have just remembered one of the reasons I enjoy the company of beautiful women: they
so
appreciate me.”

Laughing, the group left the library and as one, headed for the front salon. Walking into the room, they discovered that April and Miss Ketty were there before them.

A flurry of greetings was exchanged, and everyone scattered around the room, the gentlemen standing, the ladies seated. The conversation ebbed and flowed, and then Daphne made the mistake of saying to her brother, “Earlier, you said you were looking for me. Why?”

He pulled on his ear, looking uncomfortable, but blurted out, “Wanted to know why in the devil you needed a crowbar and sledgehammer brought up to your rooms this afternoon. You doing some remodeling?”

D
aphne’s heart sank. She’d hoped to postpone any explanation about the secret staircase until at least after dinner, but Adrian’s question begged an immediate answer. To her further dismay, a quick glance around the room revealed that everyone was looking at her in varying degrees of astonishment.

“What utter nonsense!” exclaimed Miss Ketty. “Wherever did you get it in your head that Miss Daphne wanted a sledgehammer brought to her rooms. Ridiculous!”

Adrian flushed, but his chin took on a decidedly stubborn cast that Daphne knew too well. “If you must know,” he said stiffly, “it was my valet, Bertram. He told me that he heard it from Mrs. Hutton herself. And
she
heard it from Goodson.”

“Never say that you have been gossiping with the servants!” Miss Ketty gasped. “Surely I have taught you better. Your poor mother would turn over in her grave if she could hear you now.”

“Oh, don’t scold him, Ketty,” Daphne begged, hoping to put off a tearful tirade. She slapped a smile on her face and said, “It is true. I did request those tools be brought to my rooms this afternoon.”

Goggle-eyed, April asked, “But why? Whatever did you need them for?”

Daphne threw Charles a harassed look, and he shrugged. The cat was half out of the bag already, and there was no way they could stuff it back. Like Daphne, he had hoped that the news of the discovery of the secret staircase could be delayed. Twenty-four hours would have done nicely, he thought wistfully. He would have definitely preferred that the news of its discovery not follow so closely on the heels of his conversation with his relatives about Raoul. Nell, Julian, and Marcus were still reeling from
that
facer, and it would have been better if they’d had a little time to digest what he’d told them before being confronted by the flimsy story he and Daphne were going to tell. He brightened when it occurred to him that perhaps, preoccupied with the news about Raoul, they wouldn’t look too closely at Daphne’s reasons for attacking her bedroom wall.

Charles smiled at April and said, “Your sister was convinced that she could discern the outline of a doorway hidden behind all the wallpaper in one of the walls in her bedroom. This afternoon, she showed the area to me, and while the outline was very faint, it did look as if there could be a doorway underneath the wallpaper. So we, um, proceeded to find out if our supposition was correct.”

Apparently not at all concerned with any damage done to his house, with ghoulish interest, Adrian demanded, “And did you find anything?”

Charles laughed. “We did. We discovered that there
was
a door behind the wallpaper and plaster. It had been covered over a couple of centuries ago, perhaps in the 1600s or even earlier.” Charles’s amused gaze traveled over the spellbound occupants of the room. “My clever wife has a very good eye.”

“You uncovered a secret doorway in Daffy’s bedroom?” April squeaked.

Charles bowed. “Not only was there a door behind the wallpaper, but it also opened onto a staircase. A very old staircase—it could date, to our untrained eye, back to when Beaumont Place was first built.”

“By Jove!” exclaimed Adrian, his blue eyes incandescent with excitement. “A secret staircase. Wait until my friends hear of this!” Looking very young, he added with naïve pride, “I’ll wager that the vicarage has nothing like this. I must see it!”

“Yes, I’m sure you must,” Daphne agreed, “but it might be better if we waited until after we ate to go exploring.”

Brushing aside any interest in food, this from a young man with an appetite like a famished wolf, Adrian argued for immediate exploration of the staircase; April, her expression one of apprehension and eagerness, sided with her brother, and for several moments, Daphne had her hands full. Ignoring Miss Ketty’s gloomy predictions of the fate of those unwise enough to go wandering up and down nasty secret staircases, Daphne concentrated on convincing Adrian and April to wait until later to explore.

While Daphne dealt with her siblings, Julian strolled up to Charles, and for his ears alone, he murmured, “First, Raoul and now this. For a newly married man, you have been very busy.”

Charles slid him a limpid look. “You know how easily I become bored if I am not always doing something.”

Julian grimaced. Sometimes, there was just no dealing with his cousin. Nodding his head in Daphne’s direction, he asked, “Did she really just happen to notice the outline, or is there more to the tale?”

“Daphne is very observant,” Charles said circumspectly. He disliked keeping Julian in the dark, but explaining about the little ghost, Katherine, as Daphne insisted calling her, was more than he was willing to divulge at the moment. No reason to complicate the situation, he told himself virtuously.

Julian’s eyes narrowed. “You’re hiding something.”

“Prove it,” Charles retorted.

Julian snorted. “I can’t, and you bloody well know it.” He sent his cousin an unfriendly look. “I just remembered how infuriating you can be.”

“But you love me anyway,” murmured Charles.

“Enough!” Julian said, and shaking his head half in disgust, half in amusement, he wandered back to where Nell sat on one of several sofas in the room. Marcus stood behind her.

Nell glanced up at Julian when he approached. “What were you and Charles talking about?”

His eyes on Charles, Julian replied, “What he knows that he’s not telling us.”

Marcus looked startled. “You think that he is keeping something from us?”

“Hmmm, yes, I do, but whether it is important or not remains to be seen. With Charles, one never knows if he’s keeping quiet for his own amusement or if there is a good reason for it.” Thoughtfully, Julian added, “Usually, there is a good reason.”

“Julian…this secret staircase worries me,” Nell admitted. “What if it has something to do with Raoul?”

Julian looked at her. “If the staircase had anything to do with Raoul, Charles would have said something. He might be infuriating, but he would never do anything to put you or his wife or anyone else in danger.”

“Not knowingly,” Nell said. “I mislike it. It seems too much of a coincidence—his telling us about Raoul, and then we learn that he and Daphne have discovered a secret door and staircase.”

“But it must be a coincidence. I know of no other logical explanation,” argued Marcus. “The door was closed up centuries ago. There can be no connection between Raoul and a long hidden door and staircase in this place.” His eyes on Daphne, he concluded, “I’ll confess that it is fantastic that she just happened to notice the outline behind several generations of wallpaper, but stranger things have happened. It might very well just be a coincidence.”

“Coincidence or not,” said Julian, “I am very interested in seeing this staircase.”

Goodson knocked on the door and upon entering, announced that dinner was served.

Daphne rose to her feet. “Thank you, Goodson.” After Goodson departed, she sent Adrian a stern glance and said coolly, “We will continue this discussion after dinner. Until then, not one word from you about it.”

Adrian nodded sulkily, but since his nature was sunny, by the time they were seated in the dining room and enjoying the first course of turtle soup and baked salmon, among other offerings, he was once again his congenial self. Daphne suppressed a smile. He may have given way to her, but she was not fooled—the instant they left the dining room, he would demand to see her discovery.

The storm hinted at earlier in the day arrived, and even inside the stout walls of Beaumont Place, the rain and howling wind could be heard. Thunder rolled overhead, and lightning crackled.

There had been no question of the gentlemen lingering long in the dining room over their port. The ladies had barely settled themselves comfortably around the front salon and Daphne had just handed out tea when Adrian and the others joined them.

As if their earlier argument had never been interrupted, Adrian strode over to stand in front of his sister. His blue eyes blazing with excitement, he demanded,
“Now
may we please see the staircase?”

“Oh, yes, please, Daffy,” chimed in April, setting down her cup. “Please! It is a thrilling discovery, and it is unfair of you to keep it all to yourself.”

Daphne hesitated. She knew that they would see the staircase soon enough, but she wondered if tonight was the best time. The storm worried her, reminding her too vividly of the night that Sir Wesley had made his appearance. She cast a wary glance at the fire burning cheerfully on the hearth and was glad that they were here in this room, well away from the blue salon.

Putting aside memories of Sir Wesley, the storm created a new set of worries for her. The staircase was in a section of the most ancient part of the house—who knew how safe it would be—and the idea of her brother and sister merrily tripping up and down that staircase with a storm clawing and shrieking outside alarmed her. Rain could have leaked through the roof, making those narrow steps slick and lethal. What if the wind tore open a weakened portion of the outside wall? Or lightning struck?

A terrific clap of thunder exploded overhead, making Daphne jump. Setting down her cup and saucer, she said, “Don’t you think it would be better to wait until tomorrow after the storm has passed before we do any exploring? It could be dangerous for us to be wandering up and down that old staircase until we know it is safe. Charles and I only examined one small portion of the upper reaches, and that only briefly—there could be all manner of danger. I think we should wait.”

Adrian and April would have none of that, both of them pleading like children denied an extravagant treat. Daphne gamely held to her position, Miss Ketty coming down firmly on her side, to no avail. Adrian and April were united—they wanted to see the secret doorway and stairs tonight.

Charles put an end to it by saying, “Your sister is right about the lot of us traipsing about the staircase—it could be dangerous, and the storm makes it more so.” Chuckling at Adrian’s mutinous expression, Charles added, “However, I see no reason why we gentlemen cannot take a brief look around tonight. I, for one, want a better look.” He glanced across to Julian and Marcus. “Don’t you?”

Adrian’s happy shout drowned out Daphne’s cry of protest. It would seem, she thought furiously, that her husband was as much an adventure-mad boy as her brother. Julian and Marcus’s prompt acceptance made it clear that the vice ran in the family.

“And what of us?” Daphne demanded. “Are we merely to sit here and drink tea and wait while you go exploring? Perhaps risking your life and limb?”

“Remain here, absolutely not!” Charles grinned at her. “I thought that we could all adjoin to your bedchamber, and while we gentlemen are, er, risking life and limb, you ladies can study the doorway you so cleverly discovered.”

Daphne, Nell, and April objected vigorously, but the gentlemen won the argument, and soon enough, they were gathered in Daphne’s bedchamber, staring at the destruction she and Charles had wrought. There was a moment of stunned silence at the sight of all the litter heaped and scattered across the room and the scarred oak wall with its row of rosettes.

Adrian ambled over to the wall and stared at it. One hand resting on a rosette, he glanced back at Daphne. “Which one opens the door?”

Reluctantly, Daphne replied, “The second one down from where your hand is now.”

Adrian’s hand dropped, and he gave the rosette a hard twist. He jumped back, and there was a collective gasp when with a low, grating rumble, the door slid open.

“By heaven!” exclaimed Julian. “There really is a secret door.”

“You didn’t believe us?” Charles asked with a lifted brow.

“I believed you,” said Julian, “I just didn’t…” His face alight with the same excitement that was on Adrian’s face, he added with boyish enthusiasm, “This is wonderful! There is no telling what we may find.”

Once the gentlemen had each taken a candle, with Charles in the lead, they entered the staircase. “Be careful,” Charles said as he began the descent. “The steps are narrow, and some may be crumbling.”

The ladies crowded around the doorway, watching as the men disappeared into the darkness. Only when the male voices grew faint and the flickering lights of the candles vanished did they step back from the door.

Having seen the staircase, the suffocating darkness of it and the faint damp sheen on the rough stone steps, April admitted, “I think that it is a good thing that the gentlemen are exploring it first.”

“No doubt,” Daphne answered crossly, “but it seems palpably unfair that we have to sit here and drink tea while they have all the adventure.”

“You wouldn’t think it much of an adventure,” said Miss Ketty bluntly, “if you fell and broke your neck. Foolishness is what I call it.”

Since she hadn’t been all that eager to explore the staircase when they had first discovered it, Daphne couldn’t argue with Miss Ketty’s comments. Her old nurse was right—it wouldn’t be much of an adventure if one of them got hurt. Which was the crux of the matter for Daphne: she was anxious for Charles. What if
he
fell and broke his neck?

Nell looked down the staircase for several seconds longer. Except for the candlelight from Daphne’s bedroom that spilled through the doorway, the blackness was complete. It was like looking into a black, bottomless pit, she concluded with a flutter in her stomach. Almost, she thought fearfully, like staring into the pitiless depths of Raoul’s black eyes….

Shivering, Nell stepped away from the doorway. She did not consider herself a coward, and heaven knew if Julian needed her, she would charge down the steps in an instant and no thought of danger to herself would slow her, but she echoed April’s words, “It probably
is
best that the gentlemen see that it is safe first.”

The gentlemen were having a grand time. The sounds of the storm could be heard even within the confines of the staircase, and as they descended lower, they discovered hairline cracks in the walls that allowed rain to seep inside.

“This is bloody dangerous,” Marcus said as they passed one particularly noticeable fissure. “A section of the wall could come crashing down at any moment.”