Chapter Forty-One

"Now for your research," Swifte said as they stepped back into the cool night air. "The Beauchamp Tower's not usually included in the tours we give to the general public, since most people prefer the menagerie and the armory, but the cells are very interesting."

Harry caught Ellie's arm and slowed their steps so they wouldn't be overheard. "Do you have a clever plan to make him leave us alone?"

"Of course," she whispered back, trying to ignore the tickle of his warm breath at her ear. "Do you ?"

"Of course," he echoed, giving the tip of her nose a teasing flick. "But ladies first. I'll follow your lead."

They followed the walls around the back of the looming White Tower, and Swifte raised his lantern as he unlocked a door in the curtain wall. A rusting suit of armor loomed out of the darkness and Ellie jumped in alarm before it came fully into focus. Harry snorted in quiet amusement.

"The cells used for aristocratic prisoners are up here."

A curving staircase led onto a narrow corridor with a series of closed doors. Swifte pushed one open, and they stepped into a large, bow-fronted room that was clearly part of the rounded turret, with leaded-glass windows, and a fireplace large enough to roast an ox.

"This is the room with the most profuse carving, but there are smaller cells with names and dates too."

It was much larger than Ellie had expected it to be, although it was still cold and unwelcoming. Her heels clicked on the bare floorboards and echoed strangely in the empty space.

The walls were covered in a profusion of scratched names, designs, and initials. She reached out and traced the name Iane, an older spelling of Jane, with her fingertips. Had it been carved by the seventeen-year-old Lady Jane before her untimely execution? The thought was depressing. Women had so often been at the mercy of more powerful men, mere pawns in the ruthless cut and thrust of history.

In the flickering lantern light, she found the name Thomas inscribed above a crudely carved bell with an A on the side, a cross, a shield, and even a lion and the date 1564.

"So many names!" she exclaimed. "It could take hours to read them all."

Harry stepped forward and sent her a chiding look. "Where's your usual optimism, Miss Law? I feel sure we'll find what we're looking for if we work together."

He began prowling the room, tilting his head back to read the inscriptions that were higher up, while Ellie started by the window and methodically moved her way from left to right.

Swifte did his best to provide them both with sufficient illumination.

"Perhaps it would be better to come back when it's daylight?" he suggested.

"Wait!" Ellie exclaimed in triumph. "Here it is! Arundel!"

Sure enough, the name had been carved in a slanted, flowing script, along with a longer inscription, next to a small tree.

She shot Swifte her most charming, pleading smile. "Oh, this is wonderful! My father will be so delighted. I don't suppose you have a piece of paper and a pencil, or a charcoal stick, do you, Mr. Swifte? I'd just love to take a rubbing of this, as proof."

"I suppose there might be some paper down in the guardroom," Swifte said reluctantly. "But we only have the one lantern. I wouldn't want to leave the two of you up here in the dark. These rooms are said to be haunted, you know."

Harry reached into the pocket of his coat. "As luck would have it, I have a candle with me. I once got locked in a cellar as a child—accidentally, of course—and now I have a dislike of the dark. I always carry one."

Ellie had no idea if there was any truth to that statement, but her heart still squeezed at the thought of him alone and afraid in the darkness. Oh, the man had the ability to tie her up in knots.

He lit the candle from Swifte's lantern and sent the other man a confident smile. "Don't worry about us. Miss Law and I will stay right here until you return. I'm far too wary of encountering one of your infamous ghosts to go wandering about this place at night." He sat himself down on the seat in the window embrasure, and gestured Swifte toward the door.

Poor Swifte clearly thought the request was an annoyance, but he obviously didn't want to offend them by refusing. "Very well. I'll be back shortly."

Ellie waited until the sound of his boots disappeared down the stairs before she turned to Harry and lifted her brows. The single candle gave off far less light than Swifte's lantern had done, and his face was uplit in its glow, giving his handsome features a wicked cast and making his dimples deeply shadowed.

"Brilliant girl!" He balanced the candle on the stone seat and strode over to her. "Your deviousness leaves me breathless."

"Thank you."

"As does kissing you." He caught her by the hips, and pulled her up hard against him.

Ellie's stomach somersaulted, and her heart almost doubled its pace as their lips met. She pressed herself even closer, kissing him back with fervent urgency, and Harry's tongue swept against hers, tasting her with a fierce demand that made her blood heat and her belly tingle.

He tightened his grip for a brief moment, then thrust her away from him with a low, gasping laugh. "God, woman. You're a terrible distraction!"

She laughed too, elated, practically shaking with nervous energy. "You're right. Let's find those papers."

Harry strode to the enormous fireplace and ducked beneath the lintel. The walls around him were streaked black with soot and age. "It doesn't look as if an actual fire's been lit in here for decades. That's a good sign."

He reached up and began feeling along the inside of the chimney, dislodging a small avalanche of soot that rained down on him. He turned his face away, coughing, while Ellie held her breath and prayed they hadn't been sent on a wild-goose chase.

"Now I see why you wore a coat that was almost black," she said. "It hides the soot beautifully."

Just as she was beginning to give up hope, he stilled and glanced up. "I've found a ledge. It's like a single stone's been removed to make a hiding place." He repositioned his arm, and a cloth-wrapped bundle tied with brown string fell onto the hearth at his feet.

Ellie pounced on it just as she heard the slam of a door below and Swifte's footsteps ascending the stairs.

"Quick! He's coming!" She thrust the packet through the side slit in her skirts and into the pocket beneath. The bundle was so large it made a bulge at her hip, but she pulled her cloak around her to conceal it.

Harry ducked out of the chimney and retook his place in the window, but as he turned in the candlelight Ellie's heart missed a beat. She ran to him and wiped an incriminating black smudge of coal dust from his cheek. He cleaned his dirty palms on her cloak a moment before Swifte reappeared, clutching a large sheet of paper and a handful of sharpened pencils.

Ellie clapped her hands, her happiness unfeigned. She could barely contain her excitement. "Ah, marvelous."

It was a matter of moments to place the paper over the inscribed name and take a rubbing with the pencil, and she stepped back with a triumphant sigh when she was done.

"Thank you, Mr. Swifte. I appreciate your patience." She rolled the paper and tucked it beneath her cloak. "Shall we go?"

She barely glanced at Harry as they retraced their steps through the arched guardhouses. It was only when the final gate clanged shut behind them and they were safely ensconced in the carriage that she allowed herself a deep, relieved exhale.

She pressed her palm flat to her heart as if she could calm its racing. "We did it! Good heavens, what a night."

Harry tilted his head toward the bulge of documents in her skirts. "Let's just hope those papers are what the doctor says they are, and not something completely different. What if they're the last words of a prisoner, a confession, or even love letters?"

"Shall I open them now?"

He shook his head. "Not enough light. Wait until we're back at Cobham House."

She sent him a laughing, teasing look. "It must have been incredibly trying for you, to be so close to all those precious gems and not steal a single one of them. Were you imagining ways to do it?"

His dimples flashed. "Force of habit. Purely theoretically, mind you."

"I'd say it was impossible."

"Nothing's impossible. Only extremely unlikely. I bet I could do something with a carrier pigeon. Or a highly trained dog. Or a wooden leg."

Ellie shook her head, loving his inventiveness. He was certainly never boring. "But that's all behind you now, isn't it?"

He pressed his palm over his heart. "From now on, I'm going to be a model citizen."

She let out a disbelieving snort. "Ha!"

For a delightful moment she entertained herself with a lurid fantasy of Harry making good on his promise to make love to her against the wall by sweeping her upstairs as soon as they reached Cobham House to celebrate their success.

And then she remembered that Hugo was undoubtedly still in residence and anxiously waiting for news, and her spirits fell.

The luck they'd had tonight finally seemed to have deserted her.