Chapter Ten
‘Were you purposely ignoring me?’
‘No. Why would I do that?’ As he wasn’t looking at her it was difficult to ascertain if he was telling the truth. ‘What can you tell me about this house?’
That it was little better than a prison for poor Penny. Desolate and miles from anywhere. ‘Oh, dear. How very boring—but if you insist. The original building is medieval and now forms the central entranceway. The giant fireplace there is fourteenth century. The east and west wings were both built by the third Viscount Penhurst nearly a century ago to double the number of bedrooms and add the ballroom.’
‘Impressive, although the bedrooms are less so. There is barely enough room to swing a cat in the one I have been given.’
Clarissa couldn’t help but smile at his dismissive tone. Overt displays of wealth and status really didn’t affect him in quite the same way they did most people. ‘I think you will find the same in most great houses. They tend to compromise on size of bedchambers to ensure an adequate number of guest rooms for events just like this. Poor you, though I pity that cat more.’ Some unexplained force made her run her palm greedily along the shape of his bicep before she stopped herself. ‘As I am a long-standing friend, Penny always puts me in one of the huge rooms at the back on the family floor. Aside from a magnificent and decadent amount of space I also get a splendid view of the sea—or at least I would if I had remembered to pack my opera glasses.’
Seb’s face turned for the first time since they had started their slow perambulation, his deadpan expression betrayed by his eyes. ‘I have a telescope.’
‘Who brings a telescope to a house party?’
‘A spy.’ His voice had dropped to an amused whisper that sent goosebumps rising all over her neck. ‘We always come prepared for every eventuality.’ He tugged her to follow him to the emptier end of the room. ‘Have you ever ventured down to the cellars?’
‘I have never had cause to.’
He looked oddly disappointed. ‘Then I don’t suppose you know if there are any tunnels or secret entrances?’
Tunnels and secret entrances? She was beginning to suspect the mysterious Lord Millcroft might not have come here strictly on the off chance. ‘You mean like smugglers’ tunnels?Here?’
He shrugged and stared off into the distance as if checking they were not being watched. ‘Merely out of interest. Not so long ago this coastline would have been a hive of smuggling activity. Many buildings along these cliffs have a hidden warren of caves beneath them, most of which would have been used to hide contraband from the authorities. It can’t hurt to investigate them if they exist—to see if they collide with other old tunnels. I’m a spy, remember. Being nosy goes with the territory.’
Clarissa was getting a decidedly uneasy feeling, like an itch which refused to be scratched. Her own voice dropped to a conspiratorial hiss. ‘Do you suspect Penhurst?’
‘No.’ He appeared uncomfortable at the suggestion. ‘Of course I don’t. But he runs with a very dubious crowd, don’t you agree, Gem? Men I noticeyoudislike with a vengeance. I would be remiss in my duty if I didn’t explore every suspicion or suspicious person. Viscount Regis, for example—where does his money come from? He’s never short of it, yet his estate has been on the verge of ruin for years. Gaines is another one. His reckless spending does not bear any resemblance to his small allowance and lack of property.’
‘Perhaps they make their money through gambling. All of Penhurst’s set practically live in the hells.’ As did he. Penny’s dowry must surely have been spent long ago on her husband’s hedonistic lifestyle? Her eyes scanned the room critically as if seeing it properly for the first time. Had it been so luxurious when Penny had been a new bride? The paintings certainly had been dirtier, the gilt on their frames dulled by years of neglect. There had been a distinct lack of the valuable antiques one would expect to find in a house of this age. The furnishings then had been old and outdated. Clumsy, uncomfortable Tudor and Stuart relics which had disappeared in the last few years to be replaced with sumptuous chairs and sofas covered in fashionable, plush brocade. Her friend’s dowry had been good, but nowhere near that good. Was this the fortuitous result of gambling? Hardly.
Seb touched her arm and smiled as if he could read her mind and found her vivid leap of imagination funny. ‘Most money is made through speculation nowadays, not that pure-bred aristocrats would ever admit to such a thing. Only upstarts like Millcroft or new money brag about such investments. Please take my questions at face value. I have been doing this job for so many years now, I ask them as a matter of course, even when there is no cause to do so. Besides, we both know I am useless at making small talk. Even with you.’
He swiftly changed the subject, but the seeds of doubt had been sown and consequently Clarissa’s mind was racing, not helped by the fact that Seb was behaving differently. He was more distant, more the invented Lord Millcroft than the man she knew, and that change also bothered her. The last time she had seen the real Seb had been at the inn this morning, and the more she thought about it, the more she believed the switch of persona had also happened in that hired room. The endearing and awkward ally had walked in and his brash alter-ego had strode out. She missed the real Seb. Missed the way that man made her feel.
Penhurst wandered over with Penny in tow and was soon followed by Westbridge, who had extricated his arm from Lady Olivia’s to come to Clarissa. What began as a group chat soon petered into just Clarissa and her Duke as first Seb, then the others drifted away.
‘I am not sure I approve of Millcroft.’ Westbridge sounded gloriously churlish. ‘People are beginning to talk about the pair of you.’
‘They are?’ How splendid. ‘Pray, what do they say?’
‘That he is sweet on you.’ The idea made her pulse flutter.
‘Lord Millcroft is very sweet.’
‘Sweet?’ An unattractive blood vessel pulsed near his eye as he scowled. ‘The man is a crook. And a disrespectful one at that. Did you not see the half-hearted attempt at a bow he welcomed me with?’ She had, although the slight incline of Seb’s dark head hardly constituted a bow by any definition, more an acknowledgement they co-existed on the same planet. ‘It shows scant regard for the proper formalities.’
‘Conversely, that is one of the things I like about him the most. Seb isdelightfullyinformal.’ Westbridge never would have called unannounced at her bedchamber or discussed scandalous things with her. He mostly discussed himself. And largely with himself. All Clarissa had to do was nod at the right time.
‘Seb!’ The pulsing vessel went into a gallop as his face contorted. ‘You scarcely know the fellow and yet he has given you leave to call him by his name and not his full name either! Please tell me you have not been so silly as to grant him the same privilege? Tell me he doesn’t call you Clarissa, my lady.’
‘He doesn’t.’ Westbridge sagged with relief. ‘He calls me Gem—because in his eyes I am as precious as a diamond.’ Or at least that was why she hoped he called her by the pet name. He could just as easily see her as a big joke. The girl in rags with jam on her nightdress. ‘I rather like it.’ While he was consumed with jealousy, now might be a good time to push him. ‘In fact, I wouldn’t mind if you started to drop the formalities, as well. Would you call me simply Clarissa?’
This concession seemed to placate him because he nodded, the irritating blood vessel calmed to the occasional twitch. ‘I should be honoured to.’
She let the silence hang for a few moments, waiting for him to ask her to call him Albert, but he didn’t. Pride prevented her from asking him to extend the courtesy, so she tried a different tack to test the waters. ‘How was your journey here,your Grace?’
‘Tolerable. The state of the lanes across the South Downs leaves a lot to be desired. Penhurst should see to that. One of the first things I did when I inherited the dukedom was to have the lanes approaching my estate cobbled and lined with becoming trees. It is important to give off the correct impression, don’t you think?’ Typically, he failed to notice the brittle smile she offered in reply, largely because he was back to talking about himself.
