Page 22 of Tempting a Lonely Lord (The Rakes of Mayhem #6)

Stephen returned to Bridgewater Manor, his thoughts tangled in his conversation with Lizzy.

At least she had not shunned him—a small mercy that warmed him despite the damp chill clinging to his still-wet clothes and hair.

The morning was yet young, and rather than risk disturbing his family, he ascended to his bedchamber via the servants’ stairway.

More than that, he had no desire to be seen in his current state—his hair thick with sand, his wrinkled garments marred by dirt and blood, and the unmistakable scent of spirits clinging to him like a disreputable fog.

Reaching the upper landing, he swayed slightly, his balance unsteady, and collided with a framed painting—a sunrise over the sea, ironically one of his own youthful works.

The impact sent a shudder through the panel behind it, and to his astonishment, a section of the wall shifted, creaking open to reveal a dark, narrow space beyond.

Startled, he stumbled back, steadying himself against the wall. “What in the world?” he murmured. Peering into the hidden passageway, he found it shrouded in darkness, and it was impossible to discern anything beyond the threshold.

He would have to return when sober and armed with a lantern. And perhaps a sturdier constitution.

Absently, he made a mental note to have a handrail installed.

If he had nearly taken a tumble, then surely the household staff, burdened with armfuls of linens or trays, might do the same.

But for now, fatigue pressed down upon him, the lingering effects of his drinking binge sapping what little strength remained.

With some effort, he located the hinge and eased the panel shut, telling himself he would investigate further once he had rested, and his wits were fully restored.

Stephen vaguely recalled his brother once mentioning hidden passageways, but the details eluded him.

At the time, consumed by gambling debts and the haze of near-constant inebriation, such things had seemed of little consequence.

Now, regret settled heavily upon him. He had taken too much for granted, assuming there would always be time to speak with Miles, explore the passageways together, and mend what had frayed between them.

A sharp pang lanced through his chest. The last time they had spoken, they had parted in anger.

When he reached his suite, he stumbled inside and closed the door.

After stripping off his wet clothes, gritty with sand, he crawled into bed, hoping for a few hours of sleep.

The cool, crisp sheets soothed the unrest in his mind.

Letting out a deep sigh, he closed his eyes, surrendering to exhaustion.

Yet echoes of his conversation with Lizzy lingered.

I meant what I promised… I will make amends. Bella should not have to suffer for my reprehensible behavior.

A dreamy sensation enveloped him, like the ebb and flow of a gentle tide, drawing him deeper into slumber.

“But will you?” a voice questioned.

Stephen recognized it instantly. “Miles?”

“I trusted you, Stephen,” his brother’s voice insisted.

“Miles, I promise to fix everything—I don’t know how, but I will,” Stephen vowed, his voice unsteady. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Despite their arguments, he had loved Miles—still loved him—and always yearned to be even half the man his brother was.

But how?

All he had ever done was drink and gamble, squandering both time and fortune. After Miles’s sudden death, he had grappled with the desire to change, yet he had been lost—drowning in debts, shackled to men like Baron Darkmoor.

And now… Miles had returned. Incredibly, he was standing before him.

Stephen could not— would not —let him go. “I need to ask for your forgiveness—for failing you… for failing Bella. I’m so sorry for the way we parted.” His breath hitched. “Your death… this earldom… I would trade my own life if it meant bringing you back.”

Miles’s voice softened. “I know, little brother. And I have always loved you—then, now, and always. But for now, my daughter needs you.” His tone turned grave. “If you do not help Bella, she will suffer for your indiscretions. And you promised to protect her. You know what must be done.”

Stephen swallowed hard. “I know. I need to make things right. I’ve failed Bella. I’ve failed Mother. I’ve failed myself. But worst of all, I failed you.”

Miles regarded him with quiet understanding. “I forgive you. I believe you will make amends.”

Stephen exhaled sharply. “I’ll try, Miles. I swear it.”

A knowing smile touched Miles’s lips. “Good. Now, there’s something I want to show you.”

Stephen hesitated.

Miles shook his head with a faint smile. “I’ve been watching over you, doing what I can to protect you. But we don’t have much time.”

Reaching out, he placed a hand on Stephen’s arm—cold, devoid of warmth. A chill seeped through Stephen, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Follow me.”

Stephen saw himself following his brother as if observing from above, into the secret passageway he had only just discovered.

“Beneath this house, a treasure lies hidden… one that will not only aid you, Stephen, but will secure our family’s future for generations to come.

Many stories surround this lost prize, and over the years, countless have sought it—only to fail, blinded by their own assumptions.

You must look beyond what is expected, beyond what others have sought.

If you do, you will be the one to uncover this treasure chest at last.”

The two of them floated through turn after turn in the tunnels with the glow of Miles’s spirit body lighting the way.

“Look,” he said, gesturing ahead. “These tunnels stretch far beneath the estate, a labyrinth of passages that extend to Viscount Dudley’s land.

You must find your way through them, Stephen—explore every turn, leave no stone unturned.

Somewhere within lies the treasure.” His gaze locked onto Stephen’s, steady and resolute.

“I cannot show you where it is—you must uncover it yourself.”

“But how?” Stephen asked. “What do I have to do?”

“You will figure that out. Be strong and be the man I always knew was beneath the veneer of self-doubt. You are an intelligent man, stronger than you think, Stephen, with much to offer your family. Be that man,” his brother said. “Be who we’ve always known you to be.”

“I have begun to see the light, Miles, but I fear it is too late.”

“It is not too late. You were already on the right path, which is why I was able to come to you. But hurry, we are running out of time. I must take you back, so ask me what you will…”

There was still so much Stephen wanted—needed—to ask. He couldn’t let his brother go. Not yet. “I promise you… I will make this right. But first, I need to tell you what I should have told you long ago…”

And then, at last, the words that had been locked inside his heart spilled free. His thoughts tumbled out in a rush— memories, regrets, unspoken emotions he had carried for too long.

They reminisced about their childhood, recalling stories that had them both chuckling.

Then Stephen’s voice grew softer as he recounted the time Miles had saved him from drowning in the pond at our family estate when he had been twelve.

He remembered how, afterward, Miles—sixteen at the time—had taken it upon himself to teach him how to swim.

“That near-drowning has haunted my dreams since your death,” Stephen admitted.

“It keeps replaying in my mind. Is there a message in it, Miles? I can’t shake the feeling that I’m meant to understand something. ”

Miles held his gaze, a knowing smile touching his lips. “Only that we always watched out for one another.” His voice was gentle. “Don’t you remember? You did the same for me.”

A long-buried memory surfaced, striking Stephen with sudden clarity.

A storm. A shattered branch. He had been sixteen when a brutal storm tore through the area, leaving a trail of destruction.

The next morning, as they assessed the damage, a massive tree limb had cracked above where Miles stood—ready to crash down and crush him.

Stephen had acted without thinking, shoving his brother out of the way just in time.

The branch had splintered against the ground, mere inches from where Miles had been.

It would have killed him. Stephen had forgotten—buried the memory beneath years of drinking, lost in anger and bitterness.

But now, in the presence of his brother’s spirit, it all came rushing back.

“Don’t forget what we’ve spoken about,” Miles bade him.

“I won’t. I promise,” Stephen said. “But can’t you stay longer?”

His brother smiled and nodded. “I have a little more time.”

Stephen relaxed and began to tell Miles about Elizabeth.

He told him about the ball, about waking up drunk on the beach—all of it.

How she listened to him without judging.

By God, Stephen loved her, he realized. He’d loved her ten years ago, and then, when he lost her, he’d pushed those feelings away. But he loved her still.

“She’ll be good for you,” Miles said. “I always thought you should have fought for her when her father announced the engagement with Earl Rivers, but sometimes things happen for a reason. Sometimes we have to lose something before we see its true value.”

“There is still so much I want to ask you, Miles.”

“We are running out of time. I must bring you back, so ask me what you will…”

“I think of you every day, Miles. I miss you. And I’m sorry for the childish way I reacted when you were only trying to help me. I have so many regrets,” Stephen said, his voice cracking with emotion.

Miles touched him gently on the shoulder, sending a comforting warmth through Stephen, which puzzled him, since his brother’s earlier touch had been icy.

“I miss you too, Stephen… more than you know. But I trust that one day, we will meet again and speak as brothers do—with the ease and certainty of eternity.”

Stephen cleared his throat. “I promise to remember everything you’ve told me.”

“One more thing… the treasure is there, but it may not be what you expect.” Miles’s voice remained steady, though his form had begun to fade, dissolving like mist. “You must go the rest of the way alone, but trust yourself—you will find what you seek.”

Stephen strained to hold on to the moment, but Miles was vanishing before his very eyes, his form growing fainter, slipping beyond reach.

“But there is one more thing… something you must know.” Miles’s voice, though distant, rang clear with urgency. “My death was not an accident…”

~*~

Stephen jolted awake.

His valet was pushing open the dark green drapes to the windows, letting the bright sunlight stream into the chamber.

Stephen’s heart pounded; his mind was clear.

He was stone-cold sober.

For the first time in years, he knew exactly what he had to do.

“The ladies are in the breakfast room, my lord. And your bath is ready.”

“Good,” Stephen said, stretching and drawing in a deep breath. Determination settled in his chest, solid as iron. “Let’s make this quick. There’s a great deal I need to see to today.”

His gaze flicked toward the window, to the morning sky beyond.

“And by God, I will see everything done.”

~*~