Page 20 of Matching Mr. Montfert (Apsley Family #2)

Chapter twenty

Phillip

My hand fell from Grace’s face, and I practically jumped from my chair. “Sabrina. I…this is not—”

She held up her hands and backed out of the door without a word. I had never seen my cousin scurry away before, and instinct told me to chase after her. I met Grace’s panicked gaze, and she seemed to understand, permitting me to leave her in pursuit of my cousin.

So I ran. Sabrina was halfway down the corridor before I caught up to her.

“Sabrina, wait!” My tone was a whisper but firm enough to stop her. “It is not what you think.”

“I do not think anything, Phillip.” She refused to look at me, which directly opposed her words. “I saw nothing. I haven’t any idea to what you are referring.”

She turned to leave, but I reached for her wrist. “She is helping me find a match. That is all.”

“Stop talking.”

“You know I have little experience among Society. A friend recommended a matchmaker, and Grace—

“ Phillip . Stop. Talking.”

My mouth snapped closed.

“If I were to learn of you having secret meetings with a lady—which I most definitely have not—please know that I would keep the information to myself. However, I would encourage you to choose a better location for said meetings as my father would not take kindly to Miss Scott’s presence here under any circumstance.”

This I knew, though I did not fully understand it. I wanted clarity on the matter. I released her wrist. “Why not?”

“It is complicated.”

“And that is still not an answer.”

“I imagine he is still angry about what happened with my sister,” Grace’s voice sounded from behind me.

Upon glancing over my shoulder, I found her limping toward us, her expression pinched with obvious pain. I went to her and offered my arm for support, guiding her the rest of the way.

Sabrina scoffed and pinned her gaze to the wall. “The two of you are making it very difficult for me to see nothing .”

“Never mind that,” I said. “What do you mean? What happened with her sister?”

Sabrina sighed, shaking her head. “I’ve no desire to relay all the details. Suffice it to say that I was meant to gain the attention of an earl at that house party last spring, and Miss Scott’s sister stole his heart instead.”

“So Uncle blames her family for your failure?” I asked.

“Of course, he does. He would throw a tantrum to find you have an acquaintance with Grace at all, I’m certain. She may not have had anything to do with it, but—

“Actually, I might have had a bit to do with it.” Grace winced. “I made certain the earl knew of my sister’s affections by slipping him pages from her diary.”

Sabrina’s lips pressed together in an obvious attempt not to laugh. “Well, it seems you have at least found a matchmaker with experience, Phillip.”

“And a tenacious one at that.” I smiled at Grace, and she returned it, unleashing those bubbles in my chest again.

They popped when the sound of voices echoed down the corridor from the front entry. Uncle’s stern tone addressing our butler was accompanied by the reserved one of another man. The same one I had heard in the study days ago.

Sabrina sucked in a breath. “Father is back, and he’s brought Mr. Barton. They must be having their meeting.” She looked at me significantly, though what she expected me to do, I hadn’t a clue. How was I to get Grace out of here with Uncle coming this way?

“The library,” I whispered. “We must hide you.”

“There’s no time. They’re coming.” Sabrina pushed past me and threw open the door of a linen closet. She shoved me inside, with Grace stumbling along after. To my surprise, Sabrina joined us, closing the door and bathing us in darkness.

Hands gripped my shoulders and nudged me against the wall, pressing me closer to Grace. “Move, Phillip.”

“Move where?” I whispered with agitation. “You have pushed us into a closet, Sabrina. And a small one at that. I am not a scrawny boy of twelve.”

“You are most certainly a man, Phillip, and I believe Miss Scott would agree with me.” In the darkness, I could not see what my cousin was doing, but the quiet shuffling of her skirts suggested she had crouched close to the floor. “There. I’ve found it.”

“Found what?” I asked.

“The door.” Sabrina grabbed the sleeve of my coat and tugged me toward the wall. Except, part of the wall was gone. Why was there a door in the closet?

I still could not see, but I followed Sabrina’s lead. Grace held tight to my arm, her steps labored as she struggled to keep weight off of her left leg. The space we entered was exceptionally narrow—smaller, even, than the linen closet. Both of my shoulders grazed either wall, forcing Grace to release me. I had to angle my body for all three of us to fit into the space, which left my matchmaker pinned against my side.

“Where does this lead?” I asked, grunting as I shifted to get comfortable, a task I would never achieve.

“Nowhere.” Even without seeing my face, Sabrina must have sensed me scowling at her, for she continued. “It’s an old servant’s corridor. At some point, the house was remodeled, making this hallway useless.” She paused. “Well, not entirely useless. At least not to me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Rather than tear out the walls, it was abandoned. Still, it has its perks. I doubt many of our staff even know it exists.”

“Because they do not rummage around in the linen closet?” I asked sarcastically. “How did you discover it?”

Sabrina kneeled, which I only knew because my knee dug into her back. “Keep quiet so my father does not hear us.”

Before I could question her, she slid a latch across the wall, revealing a foot-wide peephole above her head that allowed in enough light to turn the utter darkness into lightened shadows. I could see Sabrina’s silhouette, crouched in front of me, as well as Grace’s at my side. The longer I stared, the more my eyes adjusted. The more detail they could decipher.

The peephole peered into the study, situated so that it gave a view of the door. I recognized the maroon wallpaper and gold-accented furniture immediately, having spent a particularly large chunk of time there since coming to London.

Uncle and another man entered the room, and my body went tense. What if we were discovered? I could not fathom my uncle’s fury toward me and his daughter, but it would be worse for Grace. I refused to subject her to his ire.

“We need to leave,” I whispered. “The corridor is clear now.”

“Not yet.” Sabrina stood and lifted on her toes to peer out of the hole. “I need to hear this conversation.”

I understood her reasoning, but there was no point in risking Grace. Sabrina could get the information she wanted while I snuck Grace out of the house with Uncle occupied. It was our best chance of not being caught.

“Stay, Phillip,” Sabrina whispered, apparently sensing my thoughts. “They could leave at any moment. I will distract my father once their meeting is over, but it would benefit you to hear all of this, too.”

My jaw clenched. I would never hear anything but muffled conversation. I could barely understand Sabrina’s soft voice, let alone the discussion happening on the other side of the wall. Unless Uncle became enraged and started shouting, I would learn nothing.

But I would not tell my cousin this. Not yet, anyway. At some point, we would discuss what we heard today, and I would have to admit the truth.

“What if he sees the hole?” I asked. “This is dangerous.”

My cousin scoffed lightly. “I’ve been spying on him from here for years. He has not spotted it yet. The hole blends into the wall, hidden between two paintings. Father will not notice.”

She sounded so certain, and I wanted to trust her. I glanced at Grace, but her face was too shadowed to read anything of her thoughts. What must she be thinking? She had no notion of why Sabrina would wish to spy on her father, or why I would want to remain here.

The gentle squeeze of my arm pulled me from my musings.

“I can wait,” Grace whispered. “This sounds important.”

“Are you certain?”

Sabrina shushed us. I could hear my uncle speaking, but the words were garbled. In silence, we stood for what seemed like an hour. My feet began to ache, as did my back and shoulders from the awkward angle at which I stood. How servants had used this corridor for anything, I might never know. No wonder it had been abandoned.

“Phillip?”

I almost missed Grace’s quiet voice, so I tilted my good ear toward her to hear her better. “What is it?”

“My leg. It…I do not know how much longer it will hold me.”

Lud. If the tight space and standing so long were uncomfortable for me, I could only imagine how she must feel, especially after falling off a trellis.

With slow movements, I shifted so my body angled toward her rather than Sabrina. Grace needed less pressure on her leg, and I could think of only one way to achieve that in this cramped space.

I wrapped an arm about her waist, my fingers splaying over the small of her back. She gasped when I pulled her close. The smell of roses wafted to my nose, mingling with the scent of dust. Her dress was still damp in places, though nowhere near as drenched as it had been when she arrived. Still, I felt guilty for taking her away from the warm fire.

“Do you trust me?” I asked in a whisper.

She nodded, and I lifted her against me, supporting her. Holding her.

Grace’s hands flattened against my chest, and I was certain she could feel the fast drumming of my heart. I had never been this close to a lady. Dancing in ballrooms or strolling through parks demanded a certain amount of proximity, but this…I had no experience with this.

My body seemed to come alive with awareness. Every intake of her breath pressed her against me. Every exhale sent her warm breath skittering across the skin exposed above my cravat. Her touch, even with the fabric of my waistcoat as separation, created needle-like sparks of warmth that raced through my veins and into my limbs.

The heady sensation spread to fill every inch of me, foreign and spellbinding. All thoughts of my uncle and his discussion with Mr. Barton faded, my focus solely on the woman in my arms. Now that she was closer, the light from the peephole illuminated her face enough that I could see her eyes, their color a rich caramel with dark flakes of gold. Her hair had dried, leaving it wavy and frizzy.

And her lips? They looked…inviting.

I momentarily closed my eyes, bombarded with the images of claiming them for myself. I had never kissed a woman, and the desire to experience a gesture so intimate with Grace nearly overwhelmed me.

Did she feel it too? This fire between us? With little experience in courtship, I could not be certain this desire was not simply the result of our proximity, but something told me it wasn’t. Not once had I felt this way in Miss Rigby’s company. I had never considered her lips or the smoothness of the skin along her collarbone. I had never felt the urge to hold her close, to caress her jaw.

To kiss her soundly.

My arm tightened around Grace with the thought. Did I imagine the way she leaned into me? No, I could not have, for now my nose brushed hers, every breath filled with her scent.

My voice came out raspy. “Your leg…is it better?”

“Yes.” Her response was breathy, and when her gaze drifted from my eyes to my mouth, I felt undone. The need to eliminate the remaining distance grew too great, and softly, I touched my lips to hers, so light a feather could not have matched the movement.

What was I doing? I hardly knew, but the fight to keep myself from her was growing difficult. I wanted more—far more than I should. More than I could have.

“They are finished,” Sabrina whispered.

My stomach jolted, and I pulled away from Grace as much as the cramped space would allow but kept a firm hold about her waist. She tensed beneath my touch, the spell between us broken.

“Are they leaving?” I asked.

“Yes. Allow me to go first, and I’ll request a moment of Father’s time. I will feign some sort of interest in a titled man. That ought to keep him entertained long enough for you to escape.” She slid the latch over the peephole, cutting off the little light we’d had. “Grace, if you will wait for me around the corner of the house, Phillip can order the carriage for us. I will ride home with you, and if your family asks, you may tell them I talked you into a ride.”

With a plan in place, the three of us inched our way back into the linen closet. Sabrina left first, and Grace and I waited until we heard the close of the study door before venturing into the corridor. Neither of us spoke until we reached the pantry, and even then I only managed an awkward farewell. My mind was too muddled for anything more, my thoughts distracted by the constant replay of all that had occurred.

I imagined Grace felt much the same.

Once she had gone, I informed the footman of Sabrina’s need for the carriage, then waited in the entry hall for her. She appeared minutes later, her expression almost weary.

“You owe me,” she whispered, slapping my chest with a loose glove before tugging it on. “I will now have to speak to Father again to disabuse him of the notion that I have an interest in Lord Kingsley.”

“You have my sincerest apologies and gratitude.”

The footman returned and announced the carriage was ready. Sabrina studied me, something in her gaze far too knowing. It had been dark in the abandoned corridor, and she had been too focused on her father’s meeting to notice anything.

Hadn’t she?

Any hope I had of her being unaware of what had happened vanished with her next words. “I like her, Phillip. I would like to call her my friend, but I fear that you are playing with fire and are well on your way to hurting the both of you.” She stepped closer to me after a glance around us to ensure we remained alone. “You cannot kiss Miss Scott unless you are willing to stand up to my father.”

“I thought you saw nothing?” I teased, though the words fell flat. I sobered. “I did not kiss her. She is my matchmaker. I had a moment of weakness, but I know she cannot be more.”

Sabrina nodded, but her expression was more sympathy and disappointment than belief. “Your mind may know it, but I’m not so sure your heart is aware.”

And as my cousin walked away, I feared she might be correct.