Page 41 of My Devoted Viscount (Brazen Bluestockings #2)

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Unable to sleep, Vincent stared out the window.

The storm rolling inland suited his mood.

His middle brother had not lost the ability to rile him despite them both reaching adulthood and more than a quarter century of life experience.

If anyone had noticed the slight bruise forming on Wallace’s right cheek, they hadn’t drawn attention to it.

Vincent had certainly enjoyed his share of bed sport with female companions, as had Wallace. Yet this afternoon in the blink of an eye, the very idea of Wallace being intimate with Miss Walden had turned Vincent into a beast on the beach.

In the drawing room after supper, only the tightest of self-restraint kept him standing by the pianoforte instead of crashing his violin over Wallace’s head when he’d encroached on Miss Walden.

The fact she had handled him just fine on her own, rejecting his advances and leaving him to his own devices, took away some of the sting of her rejecting Vincent’s attempted proposal. Some.

He’d already stripped down to just his breeches and stockings and dismissed Lawrence for the night. Perhaps the raging storm would help him fall asleep. As he bent to take off his stockings, a flash of movement outside the window caught his eye.

Not lightning.

He balanced his palms on the windowsill and leaned out, heedless of the rain bouncing off the windowpane and hitting his face.

There. In the open space between the kitchen garden and the stable were two moving figures.

Hunched over against the driving rain, one was all pale grey, with her gown, shawl, and long hair fluttering behind her.

He almost missed the other figure, more difficult to see in dark clothing, but it also seemed female.

A ghost and an earthly companion?

Not bloody likely.

Shoving his feet in his shoes and without bothering to put on anything else other than his coat, Vincent made sure his knife and small pistol were in their respective pockets, then opened the door to the secret passageway beside his fireplace and plunged into the darkness, down to the stable.

* * *

“Duck,” Sophia whispered, ushering Mildred into the opening of the passageway that would lead back to the house and up to her chamber. If Sophia had nearly bumped her head in the small space, Mildred was certainly in danger of getting a headache.

Clutching her valise, Mildred ducked and walked into the darkness.

Before she followed suit, Sophia darted her gaze around the stable.

Had that noise been one of the horses? Or was someone else here?

She thought the coachman slept in the house with his wife, and the two groomsmen slept in quarters up in the loft.

They had left one lamp hanging from the top rung of the ladder, shutters partially drawn so it was more a source of shadows than light.

That harsh breath did not sound like it came from a sleeping horse.

Sophia closed the secret door as quietly as she could, scuffed some straw on the floor in front of it with one foot, and took three steps over to the nearest stall. One of the carriage horses, a bay gelding, had thrust his head outside his stall.

Well, that explained why Sophia felt someone had been watching her.

Letting out a deep breath to release her stress from the last hour, traipsing through the dark and rainstorm to find Mildred at the estate next door without falling into the pond and then leading her back here, Sophia reached up to stroke the horse’s velvety cheek.

The horse whickered and leaned into her, demanding a scratch behind his ears. Sophia gladly complied.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

At the rumbling deep voice behind her, Sophia let out a startled yelp and jumped nearly a foot straight up in the air. She spun, one hand on the stall rail to keep her balance, and searched the shadows.

A male figure took a few steps closer. His dark hair, breeches, and coat blended into the shadows, while light reflected off the familiar features of his face and… and bare torso.

Sophia gulped.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Fairfax quietly rumbled.

She held a hand over her pounding heart. “I thought I was alone except for the horses.”

“It’s after midnight. You felt the need to make the acquaintance of Acorn?”

The first two syllables he had spoken finally registered. “Yes, I was having trouble falling asleep.”

He took another step closer, forcing her to tilt her head back to see his face. It would be impolite to keep her eyes straight ahead, staring at his bare chest and abdomen.

She’d seen enough field laborers stripped to the waist, and studied art with Miss Blackwell at the Academy, to recognize an indolent lord, puffy like her pillow, and a man who toiled hard for too little bread. Fairfax’s well-defined physique was somewhere between the two.

As she fought the urge to stretch out her hand and discover what those contours and dusting of hair on his chest felt like, she noticed the secret door open an inch. And then another inch.

“And you, my lord?” She quickly said, wincing at how loud her voice seemed in the near-silence of the night-shrouded stable. “Are you also suffering from insomnia?”

She almost sighed in relief as the door silently closed.

“Walnut is feeling left out,” Fairfax rumbled.

He moved closer to the next stall, where the other carriage horse had also thrust his head out to observe the proceedings.

“I saw something from my window and decided to investigate. Something … odd.” He obliged the horse with a scratch between the ears.

She’d have to stretch up on her toes to reach that high, but Fairfax didn’t even have to extend his arm all the way. His coat gaped open with his movements.

“Odd?” Her voice did indeed sound odd. Strained. “How?” Staring at his bare torso, the broad chest tapering to a narrow waist, angled so she could see one side of his rib cage, reduced her speech to single syllables.

“A pale figure dressed all in grey. I think it’s what people have been describing as the ghost.”

Sophia gulped again. “You saw that from your chamber window?” She would not, could not, think about him preparing for bed.

Removing his clothes. Or that he hadn’t put all of them back on before leaving his chamber.

She forced her gaze to his face. “And did you find this figure when you came outside?”

He shook his head, making his hair sway and catch on his collar. “Alas, it had disappeared by the time I exited the house.”

A cold drop of water rolled down her nape, reminding her that she had just spent the better part of an hour in the rain and she was soaked. Now she noticed that Fairfax’s hair moved freely because it was dry. Blustery winds outside still drove rain against the stable’s walls and roof.

A frisson of fear crept down her spine, chasing away licentious thoughts. “You… you looked for the ghost, but didn’t find it?”

“No.” He gave the horse a long stroke down its forehead, then stretched his arm to do it again.

No, he didn’t search, or no, he didn’t find it?

And perhaps most importantly, how had he reached the stable without getting wet from the rain?

Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. What if he’d stayed dry because he had used the secret tunnel? Had he seen Mildred enter the tunnel?

She would not panic. He could not hear her heart racing in mixed fear and arousal.

She just had to keep her wits and keep her voice steady.

“It seems an odd night for a ghost to go wandering, or someone to pretend to be a ghost,” she said, willing her voice to express disdain and not shake with apprehension.

Apparently jealous of the attention Walnut was getting, Acorn softly whickered and nudged Sophia’s shoulder. She switched her focus from Fairfax’s naked chest to the horse’s head, and gave him gentle strokes.

“Yes.” Fairfax drew out the word.

Now he was reduced to single syllables? Was he toying with her?

She became cognizant that she was in a darkened stables with a handsome, half-naked man.

Lessons at the Academy had focused on teaching the girls to avoid such situations.

So, so many lessons. If she and he were to be discovered in this situation, she’d be ruined.

She’d already had one close call. Her night alone in the cave with Fairfax could still cause irreparable harm if anyone found out.

How would she possibly find suitable employment to support herself if her reputation was in tatters?

She shivered.

“I think I should go to bed now,” she said. She whipped her head to look at Fairfax. “That is, I’m going to return to my chamber. I think I can fall asleep now.”

He quirked one brow.

She headed for the stables’ door, certain she would not sleep for the next fortnight.

“No,” he rumbled, following her. “It’s too wet out and you’re not dressed for the storm. Come this way.” He reached for her arm and tilted his head toward the door to the secret passageway.

“I really don’t think—”

“Wouldn’t want you to catch a chill.” He gave her a half-smile.

“No need to fear the dark,” he said, patting his coat pocket.

“I brought a candle.” He quickly lit it from the lantern.

Before Sophia could think of a good reason to keep him from opening the door and revealing Mildred, Fairfax yanked it open.

No Mildred.

Nothing but darkness.

Schooling her features into a polite mask, Sophia stepped into the tunnel, Fairfax right behind her.

The space was not only too narrow for them to walk side by side, he likely had to bend almost in half to keep from bumping his head.

He gave directions on which way to go when the passageway diverged, which set of steep stairs to climb.

Sophia paused each time, as though without his direction she had no idea which way to go. Had not just come this way an hour ago.

Each twist, each corner, she expected to see Mildred.