Free Season For Desire by Theresa Romain Page A

talking about the puzzle box, it’s working exactly as it ought to.” He laid his hands flat on the table; the right angle of palm to forearm made the tendons in his wrist scream, then sigh their relief. “The puzzle box I built required only six moves to open it. Even so, you could play with it quite a while and never hit on the right combination of which side to pull first, or which panel ought to slide in which direction. And this one is far more complicated.”
    “Then just break it,” said Lady Irving. “We don’t want to stand around this tea table for the rest of our lives. The box looks fragile. Here, just drop it on the floor.”
    “No!” Giles shot a hand out to prevent her from touching the box—as did Richard, Sophy, and the now-standing Audrina.
    “Besides”—Giles drew the box back toward himself with careful hands—“sometimes a vial of acid was enclosed in a puzzle box with documents. If the box was jarred too heavily, the vial would break and destroy the contents.”
    Lady Irving shook her head, setting the sunset-bright plumes on her turban to wagging. “You really think that your mother gave Sophy a box of secret documents and acid when she was a child. Really . What would be the earthly point of that? ‘Dear Sophy-girl, someday my son who doesn’t exist yet will come along, and I want his hands to pain him. Please guard this box carefully for more than three decades, then present this acid to him with my compliments so he can shake it all over himself.’”
    Giles blinked. “It’s not going to be anything like that. If there’s anything in there at all.”
    “All right,” Lady Irving said into the silence. “So she wouldn’t have been so formal.”
    “She left this behind before I existed,” Giles bit off. “So the contents, if any, are not for me. Just—just give me a few more minutes to get it open.”
    “Hours,” corrected Audrina.
    “Fine. Hours. Maybe.”
    “Days? Weeks?”
    Possibly, yes. For that matter, never was entirely possible. “Of course not that long,” Giles lied.
    “While you are working,” said Lord Dudley in his hoarse voice, “shall we do a bit of festive decorating? The footmen have cut garland and holly. Rutherford, maybe you can climb about on the furniture to hang it. Lady D and I aren’t so young anymore.”
    Richard appeared delighted. “I’d be glad to help, my lord. Where is the garland? That would be pleasant swagged across the chimneypiece.” Already a few strides away from the tea table, he tossed back, “Son, if you get that box open, give a shout right away.”
    “ If he ever gets it open.” In a sweep of scarlet and ocean blue, Lady Irving joined the others across the room.
    Sophy sneezed. “You will get it open eventually, Mr. Rutherford. Though you might wish to keep a log of the attempts you have made.”
    A good point. “You are right,” Giles muttered. “To track and record the movements I’ve tried. Best to be systematic.”
    Another sneeze. “I’d best return to the library before my head falls off,” Sophy said in a stuffy voice. “If you find yourself on the verge of a miniature architectural triumph, do let me know.”
    By all rights, she should have been the one to work on and open the box. For so many years, it had been hers. But if she were to work endlessly upon a project, Giles suspected she would rather work on her own, something to do with her telescope and all the notes she took.
    “Are we the only ones left to pursue this mystery to its end, then?” Audrina asked once Sophy had departed in a flurry of sniffles.
    “Looks like it’s just us, yes.” Giles found a light tone difficult at the moment. The last time he and Audrina had been alone together, they’d been in the corridor away from family, away from Llewellyn. This felt even more alone, standing aside with others near, yet out of earshot. They could say anything, a hidden secret, and all would appear proper.
    She was a brave creature, this