feel a great deal more welcome if you would put down that letter opener," Simon said, lowering his hand from her mouth. He extinguished the candle he held in his other hand.
"Simon. Bloody hell." Emily tossed aside the letter opener and spun around to glare up at him through her spectacles. "You gave me a terrible fright. Where did you come from? How on earth did you sneak up on me like that? I have been watching the door for an age."
Simon unfastened his greatcoat and stepped aside. He nodded casually toward a section of bookshelving that was slowly, silently sliding back into place against the wall. Emily saw the dark entrance that yawned in the stone behind the bookcase and her eyes widened in amazed delight.
"A secret passageway. Simon, this is wonderful." She darted around him and scurried toward the rapidly disappearing passageway. All thoughts of the long-planned confession vanished in the face of the promise of high adventure.
"Contain your enthusiasm, Miss Faringdon." Simon reached out and caught her arm, drawing her to a halt. "The bookcase will close on you. It is far too heavy for you to open by hand. One must use the hidden lever."
"What hidden lever? Where is it? Oh, this is so thrilling. Just like something out of one of those bloodcurdling Minerva Press novels you spoke of earlier this evening. I can hardly believe it. To think I have lived here nearly all my life and never knew about this secret."
"Calm yourself." Obviously amused by her irrepressible excitement, Simon glanced around the room until he spotted the brandy decanter. He tossed the heavy greatcoat down over a chair. "There are two levers," he explained as he crossed to the small table where the brandy stood.
"Two?"
"One in the passageway behind the wall and one hidden inside the bookcase itself." He poured two glasses of brandy as he spoke. "The man who built St. Clair Hall believed in maintaining emergency escape routes."
"But how did you know about the secret passageway?" Emily watched with regret as the bookcase sealed itself against the wall once more.
"Have you not reasoned that out yet? You astonish me. I know about the passageway because I used to live here."
That captured her full attention. Emily swung around quickly and saw that he was leaning against the desk with languid ease, sipping his brandy. She realized he had changed out of his evening clothes. He was dressed very casually in breeches, boots, and a linen shirt. He was not even wearing a cravat. He looked like a man relaxing in the comfort of his own home.
His own home.
Wordlessly Simon offered her the second glass of brandy. Just as if he were the host and I the visitor, Emily thought suddenly.
"St. Clair Hall was your family's country home?" Emily took the brandy glass in both hands, searching his face. "What an amazing coincidence."
"Yet another one for you to note in your journal." He swallowed a mouthful of brandy.
Emily chewed on her lower lip, uncertain of his mood. "You must have been a very young boy when you left."
"Twelve."
"Why did you not mention that the hall had once been your home?"
He shrugged. "It did not seem particularly important."
Emily took a sip of the brandy, frowning again. She had the distinct impression she was missing something here, but for the life of her she could not think what it was. Her romantic imagination took hold once more.
"It is obvious this strange coincidence is just one more haunting element in our doomed relationship, my lord," Emily finally announced.
Simon gave her a sharp glance. "Doomed, did you say? I confess I am not as well schooled in the elements of romantic literature as yourself. Perhaps you will explain?"
Emily took another sip of brandy and began pacing the room. Her soft slippers made no sound on the carpet. "I must tell you, my lord, that there can be no happy ending for us. And it is all my fault."
He watched her through narrowed, hooded eyes. "Why is that?"
Emily clutched the brandy glass so
"Simon. Bloody hell." Emily tossed aside the letter opener and spun around to glare up at him through her spectacles. "You gave me a terrible fright. Where did you come from? How on earth did you sneak up on me like that? I have been watching the door for an age."
Simon unfastened his greatcoat and stepped aside. He nodded casually toward a section of bookshelving that was slowly, silently sliding back into place against the wall. Emily saw the dark entrance that yawned in the stone behind the bookcase and her eyes widened in amazed delight.
"A secret passageway. Simon, this is wonderful." She darted around him and scurried toward the rapidly disappearing passageway. All thoughts of the long-planned confession vanished in the face of the promise of high adventure.
"Contain your enthusiasm, Miss Faringdon." Simon reached out and caught her arm, drawing her to a halt. "The bookcase will close on you. It is far too heavy for you to open by hand. One must use the hidden lever."
"What hidden lever? Where is it? Oh, this is so thrilling. Just like something out of one of those bloodcurdling Minerva Press novels you spoke of earlier this evening. I can hardly believe it. To think I have lived here nearly all my life and never knew about this secret."
"Calm yourself." Obviously amused by her irrepressible excitement, Simon glanced around the room until he spotted the brandy decanter. He tossed the heavy greatcoat down over a chair. "There are two levers," he explained as he crossed to the small table where the brandy stood.
"Two?"
"One in the passageway behind the wall and one hidden inside the bookcase itself." He poured two glasses of brandy as he spoke. "The man who built St. Clair Hall believed in maintaining emergency escape routes."
"But how did you know about the secret passageway?" Emily watched with regret as the bookcase sealed itself against the wall once more.
"Have you not reasoned that out yet? You astonish me. I know about the passageway because I used to live here."
That captured her full attention. Emily swung around quickly and saw that he was leaning against the desk with languid ease, sipping his brandy. She realized he had changed out of his evening clothes. He was dressed very casually in breeches, boots, and a linen shirt. He was not even wearing a cravat. He looked like a man relaxing in the comfort of his own home.
His own home.
Wordlessly Simon offered her the second glass of brandy. Just as if he were the host and I the visitor, Emily thought suddenly.
"St. Clair Hall was your family's country home?" Emily took the brandy glass in both hands, searching his face. "What an amazing coincidence."
"Yet another one for you to note in your journal." He swallowed a mouthful of brandy.
Emily chewed on her lower lip, uncertain of his mood. "You must have been a very young boy when you left."
"Twelve."
"Why did you not mention that the hall had once been your home?"
He shrugged. "It did not seem particularly important."
Emily took a sip of the brandy, frowning again. She had the distinct impression she was missing something here, but for the life of her she could not think what it was. Her romantic imagination took hold once more.
"It is obvious this strange coincidence is just one more haunting element in our doomed relationship, my lord," Emily finally announced.
Simon gave her a sharp glance. "Doomed, did you say? I confess I am not as well schooled in the elements of romantic literature as yourself. Perhaps you will explain?"
Emily took another sip of brandy and began pacing the room. Her soft slippers made no sound on the carpet. "I must tell you, my lord, that there can be no happy ending for us. And it is all my fault."
He watched her through narrowed, hooded eyes. "Why is that?"
Emily clutched the brandy glass so
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