To his relief, Luna shook her head. “No, I closed it for two o’clock tea break.”
“Ah.” A little pang stabbed his heart, and he looked away quickly. He’d avoided their tea break. Again. On purpose. He was beginning to wonder if he’d ever feel comfortable enough to simply sit and enjoy a cup of tea with this woman again. Those days might, in fact, be gone. And this idea hurt as much or morethan all the rest: that he had ruined the easy friendship between them, all because he simply couldnotget his feelings in order.
But that was the whole point of taking Bryony out tonight, wasn’t it? A reset. A last-ditch effort to fix everything he’d spoiled.
Though, granted, he wouldn’t be going anywhere, with anyone, if Garden didn’t release them.
“Well, surely Mr. Marlin will be on his merry way soon enough,” Nigel said, pushing sweaty hair back from his forehead. “Then perhaps Debbie can . . . can . . .”
“Peck the door down?” Luna suggested dryly.
Nigel flashed her a short glance. “I was going to suggest shoving the key under the door to see if she can manage the lock from that side.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Is Debbie that dexterous?”
“Probably not.”
“Hmmm.”
Nigel rolled his jaw. Then, for want of another idea, he addressed himself to the door once more and pounded it with his fist. “Debbie?” he called.
It took a few tries, but eventually a familiar hoarse squawking sounded on the far side of the slats.
“Are you alone?” Nigel asked.
“Never mind!”
“Good, good. I’m pushing the key through to you. Do you see it?” So saying, he slid the little metal key through the small gap between the door slats and the floor. It was a tight fit, but with a little jiggling, he got it under.
There was a sound of pecking and scraping, followed by a,“Never mind.”
Nigel grimaced and glanced Luna’s way. She stood close by, hands on hips, sweat dampening her blouse ininterestingways and . . .
He turned to the door again, staring at the slats in front of him intently. “Can you get it into the lock?”
A moment of scuffle and flapping. Then:“Never mind!”
“Right, never mind, never mind.” Nigel blew out a sigh and sat back on his heels. “Very well, if nothing changes between now and then, I need you to give the key to Mrs. Goddard when she arrives. Convince her to open the boiler room door. Do you understand?”
“Never mind?”
“I know it’s risky. But we can’t stay out here forever.”
The last thing, the absolutelastthing he needed was to be locked in somewhere with Luna Talbot overnight. Not that being locked in the wide and rolling acreage of Garden was anything like being trapped in Lord Bruxley’s undercroft . . . but still.
Debbie squawked again and fluttered her wings at the door.
“I don’t know.” Nigel shook his head, spattering droplets of perspiration as he did so. “Figure it out. Make a fuss. Steal her cap. Just don’t do anything violent.”
With much grumbling and disapproval, the raven agreed at last. Emitting another sigh, Nigel turned and sat with his back against the door. He tilted his head, forcing himself to meet Luna’s narrowed gaze. Her mouth was set in a hard line, and Nigel braced himself for what he knew was coming.
“So what happens,” she said, her voice cold despite the sultry atmosphere, “when Mrs. Goddard gets an eyeful of Garden? Are you going to rearrange her memories like you did for Lord Bruxley?”
“Only if my Sovereign Lady so ordains,” Nigel answered through edged teeth.
Luna took a backward step. Her lips thinned. Then, turning away from him, she crossed her arms and stared out across the sweltering landscape, leaving Nigel to wish he could take back the bitterness from his tone.
“I wouldn’t worry about it over much, Miss Talbot,” he said more gently. “The spells on Garden’s door are such that, should anyone without sorcerous inclination stumble through, they won’t see anything save the boiler room. I have never met a woman moreadamantlyunmagical than our Mrs. Goddard,” he added with a little huff of laughter. “We should be safe.”
