“Well.” Wesley set his whiskey down, unsipped. “I don’t typically lose toantiquarians.”
The other men laughed again. Wesley used their distraction to subtly push his whiskey to the side.
“At least you’ve got deep pockets,” Sir Reginald said, rubbing his hands together like Wesley had brought him Christmas.
Valemount began to deal. “Get your bets ready, gents.”
As cards landed in front of him, Wesley tapped theash off his cigar and put it back to his lips. Valemount wanted a suitor for his niece and thought he could help himself to Sebastian.
The fucking audacity.
* * *
Sebastian got his coat and a flashlight from the staff, claiming he was just stepping out for a smoke. The footman directed him to a door on the ground floor that opened to a portico and then the gardens beyond.
It was perhaps a quarter mile’s walk to the bottom of the garden and then back up the next hill to the guest house. Sebastian buttoned his coat tight as he strolled through tall hedges and past manicured shrubs. The heavier rain had eased to a misty fog, but the air was cold, and the moon and stars were blocked by the clouds just visible against the night sky.
The guest house itself seemed even bigger up close, larger and more impressive than any home most people would ever own. Unlike the prior night, when they’d arrived, all of the windows were dark now, giving it a foreboding, unwelcoming countenance. Sebastian cautiously climbed the front steps on light feet; if the foundation really was undergoing repairs, he needed to be careful where he stepped. But there was no evidence of ongoing repairs anywhere; no evidence of anyone at all inside.
He tried the front door, which opened easily. When you lived miles from the nearest village—or even the road—with a whole staff to man your grounds, perhaps you didn’t worry too much about intruders. Sebastian stepped inside the front hall, under the chandelier suspended from the vaulted two-story ceiling. His flashlight beam illuminated rich carpets leading into otherrooms to both his right and his left, and in front of him, a carved staircase gracefully curving up to the second floor. It was silent inside, but not dusty. Empty, but not abandoned.
Sebastian ducked into every room on the first floor, shining his flashlight around the floors and walls, but there was no evidence that anyone had stayed there recently—no books off the shelves in the library, no cushions out of place on the settee; no drapes open on the windows. He went up the stairs instead, which opened into a long hall lined with bedrooms. He went into each one in turn, not sure exactly what he was looking for but finding nothing out of the ordinary.
Finally, at the room at the very end of the hall, Sebastian’s flashlight found something out of place: a black glove on the floor, just barely visible against the dark floor where it poked out from under the bed. He bent and picked it up, turning it over in his hands. It seemed to be a typical thick glove, like anyone might wear to keep their hands warm in winter—except it had no fingertips, as if they’d been cut off.
Suddenly, from downstairs, he heard a voice.
“Don Sebastian? Did you come in here?”
What on earth wasGeoffreydoing in the guest house? Sebastian hastily crammed the glove into his overcoat pocket and hurried back to the stairs. “Mr. Collins?” he called, as he took the first steps down.
“Man, what are youdoing?” Geoffrey said, sounding very much like Wesley when he was irritated. “You can’t be in here.”
Sebastian winced. “I know, but I was being mindful of the foundation—”
“That’s not the issue,” Geoffrey said testily. “That’sjust a lie Valemount told to keep us all out. Apparently some distant cousin of his was staying in here, ill as anything. That’s the real reason we’re in the main house.”
Sebastian frowned. “Wasstaying in here?”
“He’s been moved to a hospital,” Geoffrey said. “I only found out because I nearly wandered in here myself out of habit; I usually stay in the guest house on these hunts. But I ran into the man’s doctor, who had to explain the real situation to me.”
“A doctor?” Sebastian said in shock. “What was his name?”
“How would I know?” In the edge of the flashlight beam, Geoffrey looked a lot like Wesley then too, as he eyed Sebastian curiously. “Why are you down here anyway? Wesley said you’ve got that Mediterranean blood and hate the cold.”
“I wanted to see the gardens at night,” Sebastian lied. “Why areyouhere?”
“I saw you leave the gallery and the footman said you’d gone out,” Geoffrey said.
“So youfollowedme?” Sebastian said.
“I knew you wouldn’t know about Valemount’s cousin,” Geoffrey said, “and I don’t know if they’ve properly sanitized the house with all of us here.”
Sebastian folded his arms. “That’s not much of a reason.”
“Yes it is,” Geoffrey said curtly. “Look, how many friends do you think Wesley has? Can you imagine how he’d react if you caught scarlet fever and he found out I’d let it happen?”
He gestured at the door. “Come on, you’ve been inhere too long already. I bet we’ve both been missed at the manor by now.”
