Moonlight And Mistletoe

hinges, the slight angle that the wall was set at which hid it utterly unless one was face-on to it. ‘As I suspected, this was built as part of the house, not added later.’

‘So it must be part of the original secret, the same secret as the treasure?’ Hester speculated as they regained the kitchen.

‘Yes. If there ever was a treasure. I am beginning to wonder about that. And you know, those old family books of legends make no mention of any dead roses or of this house at all.’

‘The Nugents think there is a treasure, or why else are they doing this? Oh, yes, and I forgot to tell you-Miss Nugent is our ghost, I caught a glimpse under her veil yesterday and she has the bruises of your knuckles on her cheek, plain as day. She is also a good actress, according to Jethro’s sources.’

‘Is she, indeed?’ Guy regarded his knuckles. ‘I have never hit a woman-I cannot say it gives me any great pleasure, whatever she has been about. As for the “treasure”, they may be misinterpreting some clue-that letter you glimpsed, for example.’ Guy leaned against the kitchen table and looked around the room. ‘This is a home, this place. I cannot see it as some kind of treasure house, can you?’ Hester shook her head, intrigued that he seemed to experience the same kind of feelings as she did for the Moon House. ‘It is feminine, warm. A house for a man to come to and relax, sit by the fire, enjoy a woman’s company.’

His gaze rested on Hester as he spoke and she found her lips curving into a smile of recognition at the picture he was painting. She could see herself seated by the fire, or curled upon the chaise in her bedchamber, holding out a hand to Guy as he came through the door in the candlelight. She would pull him down beside her in the firelight while the snow swirled against the window panes…

‘Why, then, would he need to sneak in through a secret opening?’ Hester wondered aloud. ‘An assignation?’ Jethro, Susan and Maria had all vanished from the kitchen. She wondered why, then supposed they had all gone to wash hands and faces after their dusty explorations.

Guy shifted position suddenly as though to snap himself out of his flight of fancy. ‘Perhaps. I need to read that box of documents.’

‘But how?’ Hester felt she could watch the play of expression on his face for hours. In company he shielded his thoughts and emotions and one saw only what he wanted you to see. But lately she felt he let his guard down with her-or perhaps, being in love with him, she could read him more clearly.

‘What is it, Hester?’ Guy reached out a hand across the table and she put hers into it with a smile, surprised once more at how right his touch seemed.

She must have looked startled at his question, for he added, ‘You were staring at me. Have I a smudge on my face?’

‘No, no… I was wool-gathering.’

‘Well, you have-a smudge, I mean. And cobwebs in your hair. In fact, I think you are even grubbier than the first time I saw you.’

Guy watched the emotions chase across Hester’s face, then mischief won over indignation. ‘Wretch! To remind me of that is most unfair.’

‘I thought you made a very fetching parlourmaid,’ he commented, wondering how much longer he could hold her hand before she became self-conscious and snatched it away.

He very much wanted to do more than hold her hand. If he was honest with himself, the thought of kissing her again, holding her in his arms, making love to her, was beginning to obsess him. Up there on the chilly downs he had thought for a dizzy moment that she returned his feelings, but it seemed that all she felt was friendship-and attraction. In the tone she had used, that was the sort of word which was usually preceded by unfortunate.

The vehemence with which she rejected the idea of a carte blanche puzzled him. Of course any well-bred young lady would be appalled at the thought, but her reaction was more intense, more personal. And the fact that it had occurred to her at all, significant. Had someone tried to force his attentions on her in the period after her father’s death when she had been alone and not yet safely employed?

Whatever her secret was, he did not intend cajoling or tricking it out of her. If she trusted him, she would tell him when she was ready, and if she did not trust him, then this was pointless anyway. A patient man, Guy settled himself to play a long game, but for the first time he found himself apprehensive about whether he would win it.

He must have been lost in thought for long enough to make her uncomfortable for Hester coloured and, extracting her hand from his grasp, stood up. ‘I am keeping you from your sister. I am sorry, I should have asked you if she had a comfortable journey.’

‘She had a very comfortable journey, I thank you. During the course of it she sprung the news upon me that her husband has gone north to County Durham to visit a very sick great- uncle of his, leaving her to amuse herself as best she can over the festive season. Being Georgy she has decided that descending upon me and causing me to celebrate Christmas in style would entertain her best.

‘By this I imagine she expects me to decorate that hideous house with evergreens, dispense mince pies and punch to tuneless wassailers, issue invitations to the local society and generally behave in a manner that is best calculated to drive me back to London to shut myself up in one of my clubs until it is all over.’

He could not suppress the grin that Hester’s gurgle of amusement provoked. ‘Oh, poor Guy! And you such a curmudgeonly recluse-entertaining will obviously go right against the grain with you. Is Lady Broome explaining all this to Parrott at the moment?’

‘No, fortunately she decided she would call upon her very dear friend Lady Redbourn who lives in Watford, so I was able to drop her off for a couple of days of exhausting gossip and character assassination before she comes on here.’

He saw Hester was looking dubious in the face of such a frank description. ‘I adore my sister, and at a distance of twenty miles we get on excellently well. I think about a sennight will be delightful, after that I will not vouch for the Christmas spirit enduring.’ He regarded Hester who was looking somewhat relieved. ‘I think she will like you. At least, should we manage to keep you from looking like a chimney sweep. Here, stand in the light.’

The smudge on the end of her nose was irresistible. Guy proffered one corner of his pocket handkerchief and Hester obediently licked it. The pink, pointed tongue darting from between her lips was so erotic he almost dropped the handkerchief. Instead he dabbed carefully at the end of her nose. ‘There. Now the one on your forehead.’ She was standing very still, looking at him solemnly with those great brown eyes. Guy could feel his heart thudding. His hand shook slightly; was it the effort not to snatch her into his arms or was there something in her gaze that was making him vulnerable?

Another glimpse of that tongue would undo him. Guy dipped the cloth in a bowl of water standing in the sink. He dabbed at the line of dirt on Hester’s cheekbone and stopped, his hand upraised, his eyes locked with hers. ‘Those gold flecks are back again. Are you angry or happy?’

She blinked at him and then said tartly, ‘Chilly, my lord. There is cold water dribbling down my cheek.’ The dimple at the corner of her mouth showed she was feigning anger, but Guy knew he was close to overstepping whatever invisible boundary she had set between them.

‘I am sorry. Here.’ He handed her the towel, which hung on the back of the door, making no attempt to wipe the water away himself. Suddenly he could not trust himself to touch her.

Hester knew she was making rather a business of drying her face. It was ridiculous, if Guy had the slightest idea of the effect he could have on her with such a simple gesture as washing away a trace of dirt, he would imagine she was fevered. In an effort to control her hectic imagination, which had him taking her masterfully in his arms and heeding not the slightest her maidenly pleas to desist, she dragged her mind back to the last sensible thing they had spoken of.

‘You did not tell me how you intended examining the box of documents in the library at Winterbourne Hall.’

‘Let us just say that the Nugents do not have the monopoly on breaking and entering around here.’

His expression spoke of nothing but a thoroughly masculine delight in doing something dangerous, reckless and foolhardy. Hester found her anxiety surfacing in a rush of anger. ‘Are you all about in the head? Housebreaking? Breaking into a magistrate’s house at that? No one would think the worse of him if he took a shotgun to an intruder. And what if he doesn’t shoot you? What is the penalty for breaking and entering? Hanging? Of all the stupid, ill