Page 104 of A Figure of Love

A gritty laugh forced its way out of his throat. “I’m glad you did.”

Gareth had made it through the hole, but just as he was about to climb down to the floor of the cave a rock had clipped the back of his head and knocked him out. He’d woken up to find small hands wrapped around his, pulling him hard enough to yank his shoulder from the socket, but moving him inch by inch.

He pushed himself up, grimacing at the pain in his right foot and wiggling his toes. They hurt, but he didn’t think his foot was broken. Every bone in his body creaked and ached as he lurched to his feet.

Oliver stood beside him. “You can lean on me if you need to, sir. I’m stronger than I look.” He grinned up at Gareth, his teeth a startling white in his dirty face.

Yes, Gareth thought, you certainly are. Just like your mother.

They hobbled together toward the fork in the corridor. Gareth was astonished by how sound and clear the rest of the corridor appeared. The beams and their cross-pieces were old—ancient, he would guess. Numbers and letters were carved into them, leading him to believe they were part of some long-lost system. These caves often went for miles, like those at Chiselhurst, which were still being mined. They could wander for a very long time, but he believed Oliver’s supposition was correct: they were somewhere below the opening he had sealed.

“Do you need to rest?”

Gareth realized his breath was coming in loud, sawing rasps and shook his head. “Just swallowed lots of dust, and perhaps even a rock or two.” His lips twitched into a smile, which made the boy’s narrow shoulders sag with relief. “Let’s have a rest when we get to the bottom of that shaft.”

“Is my mama angry?” Oliver asked, cutting Gareth a nervous look.

“Angry?”

“Doesn’t she know I came into the cave with Monsieur Bardot?”

Oh, that. “No, we did not know where you had gone.”

His answer seemed to make Oliver even more miserable.

“What is it?” Gareth asked.

“She is going to be very angry when she finds out I was in here.”

Somehow Gareth thought she would forgive him. “She will be relieved you are safe.”

“Yes, she will. But then she will be angry.”

“Ah, is that how mothers operate?”

They came to a small semi-round room, just like the one at the base of the other shaft, and Gareth lowered himself to the ground, more grateful than he would have liked to sit for a moment.

The boy sat cross-legged beside him, close enough that one knee rested against Gareth’s thigh. He understood the impulse to touch another person in a time of stress, but he was surprised he did not feel the revulsion that usually accompanied such human contact.

“I remember you grew up in an orphanage. Did your mama and papa die? My papa died fighting in the War. He was a hero.” Pride tinged with regret colored his voice.

Gareth thought of the boy’s real father—a blackmailing thief who would kidnap and ransom his own son—and suddenly understood why Serena was so reluctant to tell Oliver the truth about his parentage.

“Why did you and Mr. Bardot come down into the caves?”

“He told me he’d found something astonishing, and that it would make a nice surprise for my mama when she came back home.” He shot Gareth a nervous glance. “When I told him I wasn’t allowed in the caves he said it would be all right if he was with me.” He chewed his lip, a gesture just like his mother’s. “I don’t think there was really anything down here. Do you?”

Gareth wondered what answer would make the boy feel least anxious or foolish. He finally shrugged. “I daresay there could be any number of interesting things down here. Unfortunately, they will stay buried; I expect it will never be safe to explore these caves.”

Oliver nodded. “Still, it is rather a shame, isn’t it?”

Gareth looked around at the small cave they were in and realized, with a shock, that he agreed with the boy. He couldn’t have said when, exactly, he’d ceased to be terrorized by the darkness, confinement, and brooding pressure above his head, but he did know it had been banished. He hoped it was gone for good but was grateful it was gone for now.

∞∞∞

Serena was in a half-dream, half-awake stage. The night was still velvety black, although it could not be much longer until dawn. She sat against the entrance to the cave, as if mere proximity to the stones would bring her closer to the man she knew was trapped below. She vacillated between wanting her son to be with him, and not wanting him to be facing such danger. Still, being with Gareth would be better than being with Etienne.

It was a struggle not to scream with frustration and pound her fists on the neatly stacked blocks behind her while she waited for the promised footmen to arrive. She told herself McElroy’s caution was wise. To be rash and attract attention would jeopardize Oliver. But to wait? Every moment Gareth was inside these caves would be an hour for him.