Free Secret Of The Manor by Taylin Clavelli Page A

dark seven days earlier. Except when thought turned to possible action, his insides started shaking. In the end, he took Argo over one of Carl’s cross-country courses.
    After an exhilarating blast over the well-constructed hazards, Warren made his way back. En route down the field, Warren noticed he had an audience. The people quickly dispersed when they saw he was headed in their direction. Warren thought back to his tête-à-tête with Carl over his sexuality and groaned. He’d hoped Carl was pulling his chain over the grapevine gossip at the yard.
    He spied Carl as he walked Argo to his stable. The man shot him a cheeky grin with a “told you” expression. Warren shook his head and groaned again. Setting down roots was turning out to be a messy affair.
    He spent the afternoon around the stable helping Carl and Eileen, returning to his cottage in the early evening. When he walked in the door he noticed there were several missed calls on his answer machine, but no message and nothing on his mobile. He hated it when that happened, and his stubborn side refused to use the last-number recall. Instead, he opted for a shower and food. Partway through his lasagne the landline rang again.
    Quickly swallowing his mouthful of hot heaven, he answered with a gruff, “Hello.”
    “Warren Blake.”
    “Speaking.”
    “Oliver Walmsley; you sent me a letter.”
    For a moment or three Warren panicked. He swallowed again to ensure he didn’t choke on the lasagne that threatened to come back for a second round. With a quick sip of water, he composed himself. “Yes, sir, I did. I’d prefer not to talk over the phone, though. If you don’t mind?”
    The aristocratic voice on the other end of the line spoke again, with a wary tinge to his tone. “What makes you believe I have any information that could help you?”
    Contact from the manor suggested several things to Warren, all of them scary. Warren took a deep breath to calm himself and continued. “You may not, sir. But something strange happened to me, which I need to know more about. And the fact you called me back suggests you’re at the very least intrigued. If we could just talk for a short while, sir, I’d truly appreciate it.”
    “Very well. Be here in half an hour.” And the line went dead.
    LOSING HIS appetite, Warren downed his water and threw the rest of his meal in the bin. When he made a quick call to Carl, all he got was the stable answer phone. He suspected Carl and Eileen were checking on the horses to ensure they were okay before they shut up the yard. Warren left a message and headed out.
    He drove down the lengthy entrance to the manor, continued around the circular stone driveway, and stopped at the main door. It was almost dark out. The lights over the entrance highlighted the old oak doors and cast a shadow over the area. Smooth, mustard-coloured brickwork comprised the main gate tower and the immediate area to the sides. Farther away, though the colour seemed to be the same, the style of brickwork changed. Beyond that, there were trees.
    Before Warren had a chance to knock on the door, it creaked open to reveal an aged man in a tailored black suit. “Good evening, sir. Mr. Blake, I presume?”
    “It is.”
    “His Lordship is expecting you in the library.”
    As Warren followed the butler down the long hallway, he found the architecture familiar. Some of it had been modernised, but the outline was unmistakable. The scene was the same as his daydream at the graveside.
    The thud of the latch opening the library echoed down the hall. Surprisingly, the doors parted without further sound, the large iron hinges obviously well maintained. The straight-backed butler entered with his head held high and spoke directly to the older of the two men waiting for him. “Mr. Blake, sir.”
    “Thank you, Kenneth. That will be all,” the man Warren assumed to be Oliver Walmsley replied.
    “Very good, sir.” With a bow of his head, the butler turned and left,