The Dark Viscount. Deborah Simmons

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      ‘It’s too wet to go out there now,’ Barto said.

      ‘Yes,’ Sydony answered. She glanced up at the man standing beside her, and for a moment the years fell away. They shared a look from their past, one that promised adventure and daring, right here in her own garden.

      ‘Well?’

      The sound of Kit’s voice jarred Sydony, and she realised she was standing far too close to Barto. She was still clutching his arm, too. Releasing her hold, she stepped back, just as Barto did, and turned, unaccountably flustered, to face her brother.

      ‘Can you see it?’ Kit asked. His open expression gave no hint of anything except curiosity.

      ‘We can,’ Barto said. The tone of his voice made Sydony glance at him, and she realised that whatever had passed between them was gone. His face once again looked impassive—cold, even—and she felt a sharp stab of disappointment.

      ‘Duece, it’s huge,’ Kit said, moving between them to look out over the lawn.

      ‘And dangerous. You wouldn’t want to get lost in there,’ Barto said, just as though he hadn’t been tempted to brave it.

      ‘Yes! Don’t go investigating by yourself, Syd,’ Kit warned.

      Sydony frowned. ‘Well, you’re not going without me,’ she said, in an echo of her youthful protests.

      Kit laughed. ‘No, we should all go, to try to map it out. But we’ll probably need an army of gardeners to trim the hedges, or we’ll be scratched to death.’

      Her brother’s choice of words made Sydony shiver, and the maze that had seemed so intriguing took on a threatening aspect. It was only the gloom of the weather, Sydony told herself as she peered out into the mist. Although the rain had stopped, the trees still dripped, and the constant wind made it appear as if there were movement among the greenery. In fact, Sydony could swear she saw something black in the dark hedges as she squinted through the dirty glass.

      ‘Syd!’

      Reluctantly, Sydony turned away from the panes toward Kit, who must have been speaking to her. But instead of looking exasperated, he wore an expression of suppressed excitement. ‘Come away from the window. I want you both to see what our man found in the library.’

      Although Kit was keyed up about something, Sydony was loath to leave the labyrinth she had waited so long to view. Perhaps she could try to put the pattern on to a sheet of paper…But Kit was already heading toward the door, and Sydony watched as Barto snatched up his coat and shrugged into it without breaking his stride. Obviously eager to follow Kit from the room, he disappeared without a backwards glance.

      The moment they had shared definitely was gone. In fact, Sydony wondered if she hadn’t imagined it.

      

      Barto moved alongside Kit, intent upon putting some space between himself and Sydony Marchant. He blamed the close quarters for the heat he had imagined between them. She had made her animosity clear since his arrival, and his sudden, unexpected hunger when she removed his coat was no more than a typical male reaction. No doubt, he had gone without a woman for too long, but he hadn’t the heart for it since his father’s death and everything that followed.

      With that sharp reminder of his purpose, Barto dismissed all thoughts of Sydony from his mind. She might have grown into a beauty, but he was not here for a dalliance. He had too many questions, and even if the Mar-chants were not involved in the answers, he had no intention of seducing a gently bred female whom his mother had asked about.

      Keeping his countenance, as well as his unwelcome urges, under rigid control, Barto followed Kit into one of the lower rooms. It was deserted except for the workman who stood near the doorway, wearing an odd expression. As Barto passed by, he gave the fellow a sharp glance. Though the man kept his face downcast, it was almost as if he were terrified. Had something startled him, or was he simply as queer as Dick’s hatband? Barto didn’t think much of Sparrowhawk’s hires. But was it the fault of the solicitor, or was something deeper at work?

      When Barto moved into the room he could see some unusual ruptures in the floor, which went beyond the ravages of time. Indeed, the wood was torn in places, and, upon inspection, appeared not to be the result of accidents or animals, but of a pry bar.

      ‘I wanted to make sure that there weren’t any other bad spots while we were repairing in here,’ Kit explained. ‘So I had our man Newton there pull up the carpet.’ He gave a nod towards the man who still stood near the doorway, as though held there by no will of his own.

      Scanning the space, Barto saw that the crates and furniture in the room had been pushed to the side, so that a large, worn rug that had covered one section of the floor could be rolled up. Beneath it was an expanse of wood that differed little from the rest of the planks, except for one small area where the secretary had stood.

      ‘What is it?’ Barto asked. At first glance, there appeared to be cuts in the flooring, perhaps where planks had been replaced. But when he stepped closer, Barto saw the marks were actually grooves in the wood.

      ‘It looks like a trapdoor!’ Sydony’s voice rose in excitement from behind him, like a phantom from his past. The ladies Barto knew these days would never show emotion in public. But Sydony always had been a strange one, more boy than girl, more stubborn and reckless than any other female.

      ‘It’s not big enough for a trapdoor,’ Kit said, as Sydony crowded in beside them, and Barto saw disappointment cross her face. She appeared to make no effort to hide her feelings; after the intrigues he was accustomed to, Barto found her lack of guile refreshing—if it were real. Then again, Sydony might just have grown up to be a better actress than any of the ton.

      ‘But, still, it might be a secret hiding place. It’s big enough to hold papers, I’m sure,’ she said.

      ‘Or books,’ Barto noted, watching the siblings for a reaction.

      ‘I doubt if it’s big enough to hold all the books that must have resided here,’ Sydony said, drily.

      Changing his assessment of her bluntness from refreshing to annoying, Barto ignored her. ‘Were there ever any books on these shelves?’

      ‘Not when we arrived,’ Kit said. He crouched down before the section of flooring and ran his hand over the edges, then looked up suddenly. ‘Come to think of it, didn’t Father receive a large shipment of books not that long ago?’ he asked, turning his head toward his sister.

      ‘Father was always getting shipments of books,’ Sydony said. ‘And anyway, I thought Sparrowhawk said Elspeth had them all burned.’

      Barto studied her carefully. Was she impatient to investigate this spot, or was she deliberately being dismissive? Barto looked at Kit, but he appeared to have lost all interest in the topic and was bent over the flooring again.

      ‘There’s no catch as far as I can tell,’ he said, his fingers probing the area gingerly.

      Barto walked over to the secretary and rifled through the drawers to find a heavy letter opener. ‘Try this,’ he said, handing it to Kit. ‘If that doesn’t work, I left the pry bar upstairs.’

      ‘I hate to ruin the surface,’ Kit said.

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