Page 25 of A Scandal In July

Lenore couldn’t help but smirk. That had been an excellent idea.

“What’s the shortest way to get to the boat house from here?”

“Through the formal gardens, then a short walk through the paddock. Follow me.”

Rhys led her away from the main house and through a small wooden door set in the outer wall of the courtyard. Lenore had glimpsed these formal gardens from up in the turret, but there was no time to admire the flowers and box hedges as they hurried onward.

None of the other couples were in sight, and it wasn’t long before the lake appeared through a bank of trees before them. A few swans and ducks disturbed the glassy surface, and Lenore’s eyes widened at how large it was.

“The boat house is over there, behind those rhododendrons,” Rhys said.

The land sloped steeply down toward the lakeshore, and together they skidded down the embankment, taking care not to fall. Lenore was glad that beneath her impractical dress she’d had the foresight to wear a pair of far more sensible ankle boots. If she’d been wearing pretty, silk slippers they would have been ruined by now.

She thought she heard someone crashing through the undergrowth, off to their left, and increased her pace, and they reached the boathouse unchallenged.

The shed was built into the side of the hill, with the far end almost completely below ground, and the front giving onto a shingle ‘beach’ that acted as a launch for the boats.

Lenore peered cautiously inside, but the scrape of wood and a splash from the far side of building made Rhys hurry forward to investigate.

He let out a hiss of annoyance as Morgan and Harriet suddenly drifted into view, floating in a rowboat that must have been tied to the small wooden dock beyond the boat shed.

“Damn it!” Rhys muttered as Harriet sent them a cheerful wave while Morgan plied the oars to take them further out into the lake.

“See you on the island!” Morgan called cheerfully.

“Quick,” Lenore hissed. “There are more boats in here. And we should look for the flag from the ‘boat’ clue, in case they haven’t found it.”

She stepped inside, quickly examining the three little rowboats that were illuminated by the light streaming in from the windows set in the roof. Two were upside down, stored on wooden stands, and she checked beneath them. There was no flag hidden there, nor behind the piles of oars, assorted garden tools, or under the stack of picnic blankets folded neatly on a chair in one corner.

Rhys had just grabbed the front of the boat closest to the door, ready to drag it out onto the shingle, when the wooden doors slammed shut with a bang, and a guffaw of masculine laughter sounded from outside.

“What the—?” Rhys exclaimed.

Another loud bang, this one clearly the scrape of something heavy being placed against the outside of the door.

“Morgan!” Rhys bellowed. “I’ll strangle you!”

“Not if you’re stuck in there, you won’t,” Morgan shouted back gleefully.

Lenore bit back a laugh as she realized how they’d been duped. Morgan had only pretended to start rowing out to theisland and must have doubled back to land when he saw the chance to trap them in the shed.

“Harriet!” she called out, a pleading tone in her voice. “Cousin!”

“Oh, dear. Look at that. The wind must have blown the door closed.”

Harriet’s dry, amused voice floated through the gaps in the planks. She didn’t sound the least bit contrite. In fact, she was clearly struggling not to laugh. “And a big branch seems to have fallen right across the doors. How unfortunate. Sorry, Lenore, my love. But all’s fair in love and treasure-hunting. We’ll come and let you out if you’re still there when we get back from the island.”

“Don’t promise them that,” Morgan scolded her, with mock-severity. “They can stay in there all night, for all I care.”

Rhys slammed his palm against the inside of the door, rattling the hinges, then pushed against it with his shoulder, but whatever Morgan had placed to block the doors held fast.

“We’d love to stay and chat,” Morgan taunted, “but you know how much we Navy boys like the water. It’s our second home, and I have the most amazing urge to get back out there and feel the wind on my face.”

“You’ll feel myfiston your face if I ever get out of here,” Rhys bellowed through the door. He took a step back and rammed the wood again with his shoulder, but while the two doors did buckle outwards a bit, it was not enough to break whatever had been braced against them.

“Stop!” Lenore urged him, half amused and half impressed at his display of brute strength. “You’ll hurt your shoulder. There must be another way out.”

“Fine,” Rhys huffed, turning from the door with a final glare, as if his fury could singe his brother on the other side. “Sneaky bastard.”