Page 29 of A Holiday By Gaslight

“Appersett House sold?” Sir William gave a booming laugh. “The idea of it!”

Ned stared at the man in disbelief. Didn’t he understand the danger in which he placed his family? The risk inherent in these endless improvements and modernizations?

His horse stamped beneath him in impatience. Ned loosened the reins. The stable was in sight and both horses were anxious to get back to it.

A stable lad met them in the yard. Ned dismounted and handed him his horse. Sir William did the same, pausing to bark instructions.

Ned was obliged to wait for his host, though he didn’t feel much like doing so. He needed a moment alone. Time to think. Better yet, he needed another moment with Sophie. She was the whole point of this visit. The entire reason he was even considering subsidizing Sir William’s latest scheme.

“I have the plans in my study,” Sir William said as they walked back to the house. “An architect in London has drawn them up for me. He’s keen to start work.” He glanced at Ned, his eyes hard as flint. “Come by after you’ve changed. We can discuss the estimates.”

The attics at Appersett House were a vast honeycomb of hidden spaces filled with ramshackle crates, leather trunks, and Holland-covered furnishings from generations past. There was no exact order to the way things were stored. A painting with torn canvas here, a faded tapestry there. Sophie peered under quite a few sheets before finding what she was looking for.

The family’s Christmas decorations resided in three enormous trunks. As she swept away the covers, the dust stirred up in a cloud. She sneezed mightily.

“Bless you,” a deep male voice said.

Sophie whipped around with a start. Ned was standing at the entry to the attic, one shoulder propped against the doorjamb. He looked as solemn and self-possessed as he had while courting her in London. A tall, darkly serious man with an unfathomable expression. A far cry from the smiling fellow who’d promised to kiss her under the mistletoe.

But not just under the mistletoe.

Under the gaslight, he’d said. And under the stars.

Her heartbeat quickened. “What are you doing here?”

Ned ducked inside, shutting the door behind him. “Looking for you.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why? Is the attic off-limits for guests? Your mother never said so.”

“My mother?”

“Who do you think told me where to find you?”

Sophie dusted off her hands. “No. It’s not off-limits. But we shouldn’t be here alone together, as well you know.”

Ned crossed the attic floor, navigating carefully around the clutter. “We’ll have to keep it a secret, then.”

“There are no such things as secrets at country house parties. Haven’t you heard?”

His lips quirked. “Point taken.”

For a moment, she was tempted to smile. To try and recapture a little of the magic of their morning walk in the snow. But her nerves wouldn’t permit it. The image of him riding off with her father was seared on her brain. “Where have you been all day?”

“Where have you been?” he countered. “You weren’t at breakfast.”

“There was a small crisis with my sister. By the time I came downstairs you were already gone.”

“Your father invited me to go riding.”

“Yes, I saw the pair of you from Emily’s window.” She regarded him with a worried frown. “Is everything all right?”

“With your father?” Ned shrugged. “It’s fine. He was very civil. He took me to see the gas works.”

“I thought as much.” Sophie continued to look at him, unable to quell a rising sense of dread. “You were gone a long while.”

Ned seemed to hesitate. “Your father wished to speak with me in his study when we returned.”