Page 6 of A Scandal at Stonecliffe

Well, apparently not so difficult to explain, after all.

“And you know this place?” Verity stared at him. It was the first time he had ever seen shock on her face.

“No! I mean, not personally. I’ve never been there. I wouldn’t—it isn’t the sort of thing that I—I’ve simply heard of it. I wasn’t even sure if it actually existed.”

“Rumors around your gentlemen’s club, then.” No one could put as much scorn into the word “gentlemen” as Verity.

“Well...yes.”

Verity frowned, rolling the coin back and forth between her fingers in a way he’d seen street entertainers do. “Are they willing? The women, I mean.”

“Yes, of course. At least, I’ve never heard anyone say otherwise. Like-minded women. Or, um, women who are, uh...”

“Prostitutes?”

Nathan simply nodded.

“Just because a woman is paid for her services, it doesn’t mean she wants to be hit for some man’s pleasure.” Verity’s tone was bitter and she continued to hold the token, looking at it but not, Nathan thought, actually seeing it.

Nathan had never seen this expression on Verity’s face before, either. He wasn’t sure what it was—anger? Sorrow? Regret? Whatever it was, it was a deeper emotion than she usually showed. Obviously the conversation had touched a nerve somewhere, and he realized suddenly how very little he knew about this woman, even though they’d spent a fortnight or more around each other.

“Verity,” he said softly, reaching out toward her.

Verity quickly swiped a hand under her eyes, then stood and tossed the token back in the box. “We have the brooch. It’s time to go.”

Obviously, whatever emotion had touched her, Verity wanted no sympathy for. Or, at least, none from him.

Nathan closed and relocked the box and returned it to its hiding place, sliding the wooden covering back where it was before. Just as he stood up, footsteps rang in the hallway. Good Lord. Did no one stay in the ballroom at this party? Though he couldn’t exactly blame them—he himself had been thinking how very boring it was until Verity showed up and turned it into a whirlwind of intrigue.

Verity gestured at him and jumped into the wardrobe. Nathan followed, closing the door behind them.

“I have it here somewhere,” a man said, entering the chamber. An indistinct murmur followed in reply. There was the sound of the man—Lord Arden, presumably—rattling around, opening and closing drawers.

It was cramped, hot and dark in the wardrobe. Nathan imagined Lord Arden opening the door and finding them hiding in the furniture. What could he possibly say to explain that away?

Nathan turned his head to look at Verity. The thin line of light between the doors fell across her face, lighting the dried track of a tear on her cheek. Sympathy stirred in him again, and he took her hand in his. This time she didn’t pull away, but closed her fingers around his.

Arden apparently found the object of his search, for the other man laughed and thanked him, but the two men lingered, chatting about some bet. Finally they left the room, but Verity and Nathan remained where they were until the sound of the steps faded away entirely.

Then Verity eased open the door and they surveyed the room before leaving the wardrobe. They paused once more at the doorway, listening for a long moment before slipping out into the corridor. The hall was blessedly vacant, and they walked quickly toward the servants’ staircase. It wasn’t until they started down the narrow steps single file and Verity dropped his hand that Nathan realized that they had continued to hold hands ever since they left the armoire.

The staircase eventually opened up into a hallway and Verity stopped so abruptly at it that Nathan, lost in his own thoughts about what exactly the handholding had meant, almost ran into her. A large man, presumably a guard hired specifically for the party, had spotted them. There was no time for a thrown-together pretense. In the seconds it took for the man to turn his head as if to call to someone, Verity launched herself at him. Her raised knee caught him square in the solar plexus. Air whooshed out of the guard’s lungs. He fell to his knees, and swiped at Verity’s leg on his way down, but she easily sidestepped his clutches. In one smooth movement she slid behind his torso and locked her elbow around his neck, using her other hand to pull her binding arm tighter until the man’s eyes got hazy.

“What are you doing?” Nathan hissed.

“Just knocking him out,” Verity said, letting up pressure the second the guard’s lids fluttered closed. His limp form slid down to the floor as she moved to listen at a doorway nearby. Seemingly satisfied by what she did, or didn’t, hear, she peered inside.

“Here. Drag him into this closet.” She waved Nathan over. “It’ll give us enough time to escape before anyone knows something is amiss.”

Nathan looked at the large man’s form and back at Verity. Had it really only been an hour that she’d been back in his life? He’d already committed more sins than he cared to count. At this point what was one more?

“Fine.” Nathan hooked his elbows under the arms of the guard and started dragging him over to the door. “How exactly do you propose we keep him in?” he asked after the guard’s large frame had been folded away into the rather small space. “It’s not as if we have the means to lock this door.”

“We just need something to wedge it closed.” Verity tapped her finger against her bottom lip in thought. Suddenly her golden eyes lit with a gleam and she pulled out her fan, jamming it under the door until the folds of the handle forced it to a stop.

“That’s not going to hold him for long.”

“We’re not trying to trap him forever. Besides it’ll likely take him a minute before he has his wits about him enough to realize he just needs to push the fan out to be able to open the door.”