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“I did.”
“So it is all real,” she mused, tapping a finger to her lips. “Your aunt was right.”
“It was not my uncle.”
“Are you certain?”
He hefted out a breath. “I did not see him properly. I gave chase but the man was long gone. Far too quick to be my aged and very certainly dead uncle. However, he left open a hidden wall that my aunt had forgotten about. She’s also forgotten where the key is kept. That is where you come in.”
She flashed a triumphant smile. The sweetness was gone.
Thank the Lord.
Chapter Ten
“You know, you really should not be here un—”
Clem batted a hand in Lord Rochdale’s direction and bent over to eye the lock. “If you are going to start making a fuss about us being alone here together again, this shall take a lot longer than it should.”
“I assumed my aunt would be home,” he grumbled.
She ignored him and held out a hand. “Hand me my tools.”
He muttered something about taking orders and being a marquis, but she ignored that too. When he placed the pick and rod in her hand, their fingers grazed and she frowned, glancing briefly at his fingertips. They’d felt callused but how could that be? Hers were still callused from lute playing but he was a lord, more used to letter-writing and drinking at White’s than doing anything with his hands.
She focused on the lock once more. Lord Rochdale was no conundrum, and her interest was not piqued. He was exactly as he seemed—an impeccably dressed, stuffy snob who treated her and her family the same way everyone else did. Her mind did not need to ruminate on him anymore than it did on Sir Teddy’s useless observations about Japan.
Clem smoothed a hand over the intricate peach floral pattern covering one half of the wall. The wallcovering had been carefully laid and cut so that when the door was shut, one could scarcely see the hidden compartment. That made sense, of course, considering the compartment was intended to be secret, and such things were common in older houses.
“I wonder how the intruder knew of this wall if it was not your uncle.”
“The intruder moved swiftly for a dead man,” Lord Rochdale said dryly.
“If it was not your uncle, it had to be someone who knew this house.” She glanced back at him. “How long has this house been in the family?”
“Long enough,” he said stiffly.
“Enlightening,” she replied and straightened. “You know, if I am to get to the bottom of this mystery, it would be helpful if you could offer me more than one sentence replies.”
“That counted as a sentence?
Swiftly, she turned back to the compartment. She liked teasing him, it was easy. His starchy exterior needed ruffling every now and then. She was not so sure she liked it in return, however. It made her feel all hot and off-kilter when his dark eyes twinkled.
“Once you have opened that, there will be no need for any more investigating. I shall have the letter in my possession and whoever is looking for it will have to give up.”
“As simple as that?” she said, inserting the pick into the lock. “You are not worried they might try to get it from you or threaten your aunt?”
“If it is my dead uncle, he would hardly do that now would he?”
“You already said he moved swiftly...” Biting down on her bottom lip, she worked the pick this way and that, feeling for each of the notches.
“So now you agree that the man is not my uncle?”
If she allowed herself to hear that smugness in his tone again, she would not be held responsible for what she did next. Clem straightened. “All I am saying is, does it not worry you someone has been getting into you aunt’s house? Is it merely this letter that is so important to you?”
Lord Rochdale folded his arms. “You clearly think me a most callous man.”
“Well you did get my brother—”
