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Her arms and legs shook as she righted herself, first sitting, then coming to a crouch before standing. “I am well.”
“Good. You found your way down here. Can you find your way back?”
“I can, Simon.”
“Pick up the pistol. Don’t be afraid. It’s already fired. The lantern, too. Then lead the way upstairs. I’ll follow behind with Whorton.”
“Whorton?” she repeated, then studied the other man, his face contorted with rage. “The gardener?”
“Hurry, Isleen.”
She shook out her arms, then slid along the wall to keep as far from the man as possible. She stooped down for the handle of the lantern, which burned brighter once she had it turned aright. Then she picked up the pistol, shuddering as her grip tightened around it.
“Isleen?”
She paused, looking over the horrid man’s shoulder to where Simon’s eyes all-too-briefly flickered to meet her gaze. “Thank you.”
She shivered, but smiled, then turned and led them back the way they had come.
Isleen did not have to lead them far. A man in the duke’s livery came down the stairs as they arrived there, holding his own pistol out and wearing a dark frown.
“Sterling,” Simon greeted him, and Isleen stepped back against the wall, allowing the men a better view.
For a terrible, frightening moment, she wondered if the footman was in league with the gardener.
“My lord. What goes on here?” the footman asked, voice commanding. “I found the passage open and came to investigate.”
“Whorton took it into his head to invite me, at the end of a muzzle, on an evening jaunt. I’m still not certain of our destination. Lucky for me, Miss Frost is dreadfully curious and found us out.”
The gardener cursed, his words ugly, against both Simon and Isleen. The liveried footman nodded once. “You can assist the lady if you wish, my lord. I’ll take this one the rest of the way up.”
“A fine suggestion.” A quiet hiss of metal into scabbard, the blade sheathed, preceded Simon stepping around Whorton. He came toward Isleen, a comforting smile in place. “Up we go, my darling.”
She almost missed the endearment, as his hand took the fired pistol from hers. He tucked it into the back of his trousers, then offered her his hand.
Isleen took it, twining her fingers through his, then followed him. Up, up, up. She looked over her shoulder again and again, Whorton glaring up at her, and Sterling the armed footman coming along behind them all. She shuddered and turned forward.
“Ground floor?” Simon asked, then pushed open a section of wall that didn’t look as though it ought to open. Therehadbeen exits to the other floors of the castle. She’d been in too much of a hurry and a fright to notice them. And without clear light.
They emerged in a servant’s corridor, and the sounds of pots clattering and the French chef shouting filled the air, along with the scent of bread and roasting meat.
Simon tugged Isleen to the side, pulling her close. He stared down into her upturned face, his brow drawn down. “Are you certain you are unharmed?”
She nodded once and released a heavy sigh. “You should return to your room. I want to take you, but—” He looked to where Sterling and Whorton stood in the shadows.
“You have something important to handle. I understand.”
He frowned at her. “Wait here a moment.” Then he made some sort of signal to Sterling, who forced Whorton to follow. They walked toward the sounds of the kitchen, which quieted after a moment.
Isleen wrapped her arms around herself and realized, with a shaky laugh, that she had lost the glove she removed ages and ages ago. She had dropped it. But where? And did it even matter?
Simon returned, and he took her hand again, stilling her worries. “Let me take you upstairs to my father’s study. He’ll need to be informed of all this, and I doubt you wish to be alone.”
“I could manage.” She stuck her chin out, but felt it wobble without her permission.
“Of course you could, love. It’s me who needs the company.” He squeezed her hand and led her out of the dark, into the Guard Room.
She didn’t know if it was his continued use of endearments or the shock of her adventure that left her felling dizzy, but she kept up with him without a word, going up stairs and across landings until he brought her through the library, knocked on another hidden door—this one looked like bookshelves—and led her into an elegant study of greens and golds.
