The Disgraceful Mr. Ravenhurst Read online

  Falling in love turns your brain upside down. Look at Cousin Bel when she fell in love. Distracted, poor thing. I am perfectly in command of my emotions. I am perfectly normal.

  ‘Elinor! What are you doing standing there, gazing into space? You have been looking like a moonstruck noddy for a good two minutes.’

  ‘Sorry, Mama. I was trying to recall the basilica columns in detail.’ Focus, think. She was terrified, she realised. Terrified by the emotions she did not understand, terrified that perhaps Jeanie was right, that she was in love with Theo. Because if she was, it was hopeless and it would hurt. It would hurt terribly and she had schooled herself to live life calmly, not expecting anything and never being disappointed. That way nothing wounded her any more, nothing was going to leave her raw and vulnerable and exposed. But this was going to, because it was quite hopeless, he had said so.

  ‘Do you want me to draw, Mama?’ she asked, praying the answer would be no. Her hands were shaking. ‘Because I thought I would check for masons’ marks, see if any match the ones in the basilica.’

  ‘An excellent idea,’ Lady James approved, beginning to pace out distances between columns. There, she could pull herself together and function after all. Elinor began to scan the walls closely, noting the cryptic signs the medieval masons had scratched on each block so their work could be identified and they would be paid correctly each day. It needed careful study and it meant she could check the walls for any sign of a hiding place as she went.

  By the end of the morning her notebook was full of marks, her head was spinning and every inch of wall had been looked at. There was nothing in the least suspicious to suggest a secret.

  A footman arrived with the message that luncheon was served, earning a frown from Lady James and a sigh of thankfulness from Elinor. ‘Mama, can you manage without me this afternoon? I have such a headache. I could collate the marks against the ones for the basilica later if you like.’

  ‘Very well. Come along, I suppose we must eat.’

  Elinor wrestled with her problem throughout luncheon before she came up with a solution. She was seeing too much of Theo, and under circumstances that were so intense, it was no wonder she was becoming—she sought for a word—engrossed with him. All that was needed was contact with another man.

  And there was an admirable candidate to hand. ‘Miss Elinor?’ The count was waiting to see if she was still hoping for a tour of the cellars. Yes, he would do perfectly. He was attractive enough to be diverting, sophisticated enough not to mistake her intentions or feelings.

  ‘Leon.’ She smiled back. ‘I am relying upon you for some thoroughly spine-chilling stories.’

  ‘Let me see what I can do to produce a frisson.’ He took a lantern from a stand beside a small door off the great entrance hall and lit it. ‘The dungeons date from the first castle, built by my ancestor, the Chevalier Guy de Beaumartin. He was a powerful war lord and needed somewhere to keep his many captives. Mind how you go on these narrow steps. Here.’ He took her hand and led her down the spiral stairs.

  It was no different from the way Theo helped her, his light grasp was quite impersonal, but Elinor freed herself with a murmured word of thanks as soon as they arrived at the bottom of the stairs. They were in a wide, stone-flagged passageway, vanishing into darkness and shadows and, on either side, small doors that she would have to stoop to enter. ‘Cells?’ she queried.

  ‘Certainly.’ Leon pushed one open with a rending creak of rusted hinges and shone the light inside for her to see. ‘No windows, the damp runs down the stone walls. See the bolts in the walls that held the shackles? Imagine the despair of being chained here in the darkness, month after month, with only the rats for company.’

  Elinor could imagine it only too vividly, and she did not find that sort of medieval barbarity romantic. But she had to maintain her excuse of wanting to see the Gothic horrors, so she produced an exaggerated shudder. ‘Ghastly indeed.’ Something scuttled across the edge of the pool of light: a vast spider. She gave an involuntary gasp and jumped backwards, to find herself being supported by Leon’s arm.

  ‘It is only a spider,’ he said reassuringly, making no attempt to remove his arm. Elinor stiffened, but he did not try to take advantage of the situation either.

  ‘Thank you. I have to confess to hating the things—so foolish.’ She stepped aside as though to allow him to proceed and he dropped his arm away. The count’s manner as he led her through the maze of underground passages and chambers was perfectly correct and yet Elinor was left in no doubt at all that he saw her as an attractive woman and that he wanted her to see him as a man, not just as her host.

  How he achieved that intrigued her and she began to watch closely to analyse his technique. Leon touched her, fleetingly, always with a good excuse, always somewhere unalarming, such as her elbow or her hand, but frequently. His voice was husky, soft enough that she had to move a little closer to him to hear, and, when he spoke, he kept his eyes on her face as though hanging on her every word of response. He was, in effect, flirting in the most unexceptional manner.

  Elinor decided to try responding. She laughed at anything he said that could be considered even faintly amusing, she leaned a little when he offered her support on the steps, she gasped in admiration when he told her tales of his ancestors’ deeds of chivalry. In fact, by the time the narrow passageways opened up into a great chamber with a vaulted ceiling, they were both thoroughly at ease with each other and, she suspected, he might very well try to kiss her at any moment.

  Oddly, Leon did not seem to want to linger, but took the direct path across the imposing space. ‘Oh, please wait,’ Elinor implored. ‘What a strange room. Was it a guard chamber?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ Leon said, a trifle shortly. He wanted her out of there, she realised, staring round. The chamber was like a chapel with bays at intervals along the walls and rusted flambeaux holders. There were small metal hooks high up that she recognised as suspension points for tapestries, although the walls were stark stone now. There was a small stone platform at one end. It was too low for an altar.

  Then she saw the ring bolts at all four corners of the platform and more on the pillars. She measured them by eye, cold chills running up and down her spine. They were the right height to tie the wrists of a woman to, if she stretched up. This, surely, was the room the wicked count used for his depraved orgies. And where better to house the ritual objects and the Chalice?

  Leon set down the lantern, sending wild shadows flickering across the walls. As he walked towards her, smiling, his dark, lean features seemed devilish in the gloom. ‘Do you find this gives you the thrill of horror you were seeking?’ he asked her. And it seemed the light, bantering tone had been replaced with something more sinister. Almost she could believe he was the reincarnation of his ancestor.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ She tried to laugh. ‘See, I am all of a tremble.’ She held out her hand, surprised to see she was speaking the truth, and he took it, drawing her in to him. It seemed impossible to resist, as if he, or the strange atmosphere of the chamber, was mesmerising her. He was going to kiss her, she realised, almost fatalistically.

  ‘Oh, Elinor, how I would like to make you tremble,’ Leon murmured and lowered his mouth to hers.

  Chapter Twelve

  Think, Elinor told herself fiercely, see how this is no different from kissing Theo? See, all it is, is physical passion and my lack of experience. She opened to the pressure of Leon’s insistent lips, let his mouth mould hers, let his tongue explore, let him brace her hard against his lean body so she could feel his arousal. And she felt nothing, nothing but surprise that she could do this and feel only detachment.

  But detached though she might be, this was enough. More than enough. Elinor put her hands on Leon’s shoulders and pushed. It did not make him loosen his hold, but it threw her off balance. She took a step, the backs of her knees met an obstacle and she fell, Leon coming with her, to the low stone platform. He threw out a hand to take their weight,
then let them both subside slowly on to the hard surface.

  Now Elinor did start to feel uneasy. Surely he would not persist? He was a gentleman, her host—but she had held out her hand to him, gone willingly into his arms. Perhaps he thought that her unconventional lifestyle meant her morals were loose. With an effort she freed her mouth, pushing against the upper part of his chest with her left palm. From a distance of inches Leon’s dark eyes burned into hers.

  ‘No,’ she managed. ‘Enough!’ Her outflung right hand met metal, grasped it, and she found she was holding one of the rings set at the corner of the platform. It was as though the panic and fear of those women from so long ago flowed into her body, lending her strength. She shoved harder and Leon stood up, catching her hand in his and pulling her to his feet as he did so.

  He seemed neither put out by her rejection nor particularly agitated by what had just occurred. ‘I am sorry we fell. Are you hurt?’ he asked solicitously.

  Elinor bit back the retort that it was rather late in the day to ask that and managed a bright smile. She did not want to expose her own inexperience, nor did she want to let him glimpse her fear, not of him, but of the place where they stood.

  ‘I am quite all right, but I am afraid that this wildly romantic atmosphere has led us both further than we meant to go.’ She heard her own voice sounding as cool and emotionless as though she was disputing a footnote in a learned journal. What was the matter with her? Her heart was pounding, but it was not the same as the way she felt after Theo kissed her. What did she feel? More than a little embarrassed, in the aftermath of that embrace, but not even slightly stirred by it. Shouldn’t she be? He was an attractive man, his technique seemed perfectly assured. Wasn’t she supposed to be aroused by what they had just done?

  All she wanted, she realised, was Theo. She wanted to be in his arms and have him sooth away the terror that seemed to ooze from the stones; despite that, she wanted to join him searching the place, certain that here they would find the Chalice.

  ‘Elinor!’ Even distorted by the echo in the maze of underground corridors, his voice was unmistakable.

  Leon smiled tightly. ‘It appears your cousin desires to chaperon you. He does not like you being alone with me, I think.’

  That was all she needed. The two men were prickly enough around each other without them circling like two dogs over a juicy bone. The thought of herself in that light, when previously the best analogy would be to a rather overcooked and dried-up mutton chop, made Elinor’s lips twitch in wry amusement.

  ‘That makes you smile?’ Leon asked. ‘It amuses you to have two men desiring you?’

  ‘My cousin most certainly does not—Theo! You have found us. Is this not the most atmospheric place? I swear I am going to try my hand at writing a Gothic novel, I am so inspired.’

  ‘Aunt Louisa would have kittens,’ Theo observed, smiling. In the light of the lantern his eyes looked like cold obsidian, utterly at odds with his voice and the curve of his lips. ‘She is wondering, loudly, where you are. I gather you are supposed to be in your room, recovering from a headache.’

  ‘So I am,’ Elinor said. ‘But it is much better now.’ It seemed politic to move to Theo’s side. ‘You found your way down here all by yourself? How clever, I would be lost in an instant if it were not for Leon. Shall we go back the way you came?’ She tucked her hand under his elbow, looking back over her shoulder at the count. Faintly, there was the sound of a low growl, then she realised it was Theo. Her smile was becoming somewhat fixed, she realised, urging Theo in the direction of the door. ‘I’ve found something,’ she hissed. ‘Can we please get out of here?’

  He had taken a shorter route and they emerged through a door into the inner courtyard of the chateau. The countess and Mademoiselle Julie were sitting in the shade, sewing. Elinor felt their speculative scrutiny and moved closer to Theo. ‘How wonderfully atmospheric!’ she exclaimed. ‘Thank you so much, Count. I have to confess I would have been terrified to find myself down there alone—those spiders.’ She gave an exaggerated shudder. ‘Now I had better go and help Mama again. Theo, could you come and carry my easel, please? I left it in my room.’

  When they reached the door she pulled him in, ignoring his protests about propriety and the damage she was doing to his sleeve. ‘Theo, I think I know where it might be.’

  ‘Sit over there.’ He pointed a long finger at the window seat and took a stool by the door. ‘If Aunt Louisa comes in, I want to be at a very safe distance from you. Now, tell me, what have you been doing, besides making love with the count.’

  ‘I have not,’ she began indignantly.

  ‘The back of your gown is dusty, there is a slight red mark on your cheek. He needs to shave twice a day if he is kissing women.’

  ‘He did kiss me, but that is all.’ She had nothing to feel defensive about. Theo was not her guardian, certainly not her brother. Which was how he was sounding.

  ‘Lying down?’

  ‘I tripped. Theo, listen. You know I went down there with him to explore, so stop being so…sanctimonious. And why should I not kiss him if I want to? He is a very attractive man.’

  Theo seemed to be counting silently. Eventually he said, ‘So what have you discovered?’

  ‘The room where you found us is very strange. Did you notice?’ He shook his head and she felt a strange twinge of satisfaction that he had been so focussed on her. ‘Look at the plan.’ Her copy was still spread on the table and she went to trace her route. ‘See? Like a chapel, with lots of deep alcoves, like side chapels. And there are rings on the walls.’ She felt herself go pale and kept talking. ‘And a low platform, like an altar, with rings at all four corners. That’s what I fell back on to and I realised that it was probably used for…for…’

  Standing on the other side of the table, looking down at the plan, Theo’s face was grim. He probably knew, far better than she in her inexperience, the sort of activities that room had witnessed. ‘You think it would be the place to hide the Chalice?’

  ‘Surely there would have been somewhere to keep the silver and so forth, in the days when it was in use?’

  ‘I think you are right. And look, the chamber is almost directly below the servants’ lodgings.’ He tapped a finger thoughtfully on the curling edge of the parchment. ‘What do you think—someone searching, or someone checking it is still there?’

  ‘Checking,’ Elinor said, uncertain why she was so sure. ‘What time shall we go tonight?’

  ‘We?’ Theo raised an eyebrow. Elinor mimicked him, earning herself a grin. ‘You are not going anywhere, certainly not down into nasty, spider-infested dungeons.’

  ‘Theo, if we don’t go together, then I will go by myself,’ she warned.

  She thought he muttered, ‘Give me strength.’ Then, ‘Very well. I will collect you at two. If you scream at spiders, I’ll gag you.’

  ‘Yes, Theo,’ Elinor murmured with mock meekness. She liked the way he did not try to order her to do things simply because he said so—or, at least, he did try ordering her, but when she refused he did not bluster and get indignant, which she had observed was so often the male way when confronted with obdurate females.

  Theo began to fold the paper and she watched his hands, wondering why she had an ache inside. He folded it meticulously, with exaggerated care, running his thumb down the creases, then standing with it in his hands, looking at it. Then he tossed it on to the table, took three long strides around it to her side and pulled her against him with one arm around her shoulders.

  ‘Did he frighten you?’ he asked, his voice gruff.

  ‘No.’ She shook her head, certain. ‘No, it was very odd. There was something about that chamber, the atmosphere. When he kissed me I felt nothing from him, but I did feel fear—almost as though it was another woman’s emotions.’ Elinor gave an exaggerated shiver. ‘Foolishness.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ Theo kept hold of her. She felt a pressure on the top of her head as though he rested his cheek there. ‘Something is ve
ry wrong in this place, Nell, but I do not think it is ghosts from the past.’

  Elinor let herself lean, indulging herself, realising that it was an indulgence and that revealed some truth about her feelings. And suddenly she did not care. Perhaps she was in love with him. What if she was hurt? Perhaps it was better to feel strong emotions than to go through life on a safe, dull, even keel. She lifted one hand and laid it on Theo’s chest, just above his heart, feeling the strong beat pulse through her.

  Yes, said the voice in her head. Yes, he is the one. At last.

  ‘Nell? Are you all right? You sighed.’ He let her go, setting her back a pace and holding her by the shoulders to look into her face. ‘You know, you are damnably pretty in that colour.’

  ‘For which you may take all the credit,’ she said, making light of it. ‘I freely acknowledge that my wardrobe was full of dreadful gowns. But you should not lie to me, Theo—I am not pretty.’

  ‘No, you aren’t, are you?’ He frowned at her. ‘That’s too lightweight a word. I am no sure what you are, I will have to think about it.’ He bent, kissed her on the lips with a fleeting pressure and turned abruptly to the door.

  ‘Theo!’ It came out as a somewhat strangled gasp, but at last she could still articulate. It hadn’t been a proper kiss. It had been, she supposed, just a friendly gesture. No doubt he had got whatever desire he had felt for her out of his system with that kiss in the study and now she was just a friend to be reassured, and protected from the count. ‘My easel? Mama will be waiting.’

  ‘Lord, yes. I was forgetting, she wanted me to measure something high up—string courses, I think. Come on.’