Chapter 23

Their steps echoed in the cavernous corridor. Theresia had heard stories about castles with secret passages or tunnels beneath them, but seeing one might be the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her.

"Is it long or short?" she asked Rolland. "Do we need a lantern?"

He turned and held a finger to her mouth. "Not even the servants are privy to this, so you mustn't let anyone hear you."

He pulled back slowly, but she was momentarily distracted by the lingering feel of his touch on her lips. "How is it that you know what no one else does?"

His answer was just above a whisper. "I met Marcus in his first year at Oxford. We became fast friends. He invited me here and showed me the passage."

"I wondered about your history. Have you been friends with Mr. Lewis for just as long?"

"We met him the next year, actually. I'm not sure even he knows this particular secret. You can hold it over him later. It will be the worst sort of torture for him."

She smiled. "But will His Grace be disappointed that I know about it?"

Rolland denied it with a quick shake of his head. "I will take full responsibility."

She stared up at him. Why would he show her if it might upset his friend? "I don't want you to risk your friendship."

He gave her a half smile. "Marcus will likely slap me on the back and tell me well done."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't think too hard on it." They stopped in front of a dark-colored tapestry, and Rolland searched the corridors with his eyes. The coast clear, he took her hand and pulled her behind the heavy wall hanging. She couldn't see what he was doing in front of her, nor did she try to since her mind was still reeling over his warm hand on her own. Seconds later the tapestry fell back to the wall, and she was pulled into blackness.

"Are you certain we won't get in trouble for being in here?" she whispered, her nose itching from the smell of dust.

Rolland didn't go any farther. "I would've thought you thrived off situations like this. But no, Marcus won't mind I am showing you this, because..."

"Because?"

"Because he thinks I am fond of you."

The whispered words spoken in the dark sent gooseflesh down her arms.

"He knows about my father's arrangement but doesn't understand my commitment to it."

She licked her dry lips, unsure how to respond. He was still holding her hand, so it was hard to hear what he was saying and believe he was meant to be with anyone but her. Her own plans were not as sharp as before, but she couldn't falter now. There was no use dreaming of what wasn't meant to be.

"Wh-where does this passage lead us?" The words came out choked, and it had nothing to do with where they were.

"Hold on. We're about to go up some stairs. It's narrow, so you might have to turn sideways. I'll continue to lead you to capture any spiderwebs. Unless, of course, you're afraid of the dark or confined spaces. I should've asked first."

She gave a quiet laugh. "Have you forgotten about my brave spirit? Press on, Captain."

He chuckled and they took the first few stairs.

Truly, if he weren't holding her hand, she might have been a little nervous. But not from the dark. "Did you say there are spiders in here?"

She felt his hand shake slightly from the vibration of his quiet laughter.

"I'm not scared. I'm only curious of the size of them... and where exactly they would be."

"I'll protect you; I promise."

His words sent a thrill racing through her. She believed him too.

She didn't have to turn sideways, but she did feel the brush of the narrow walls a few times. When they reached the top, Rolland hesitated. "Here's the tricky part," he whispered.

"What's that?"

"Exiting without being seen."

"How can you be certain we won't be?" she whispered back.

"We'll take a moment to listen for any footsteps, and then I'll take a peek."

She didn't answer but stretched her ear to listen too. A faint noise sounded, and she squeezed his hand in case he missed it. He squeezed it back, the rest of him holding perfectly still. The noises were muffled and possibly belonged to more than one person walking by.

She hadn't expected the noises to stop on the other side of the passage, nor to hear voices next.

"Just act natural, and I'll take care of everything," the voice said.

She froze, the simple words making her head spin. French! He was speaking French!

"Rolland!" she whispered.

"I heard him," he said, his voice barely audible.

The footsteps faded. "It's him. I know it is!"

"I believe you," he said quickly. "Switch me places, and I will hurry back down and see if I can intercept them. You stay here for the count of sixty, and if you're sure you're in the clear, turn this handle and you'll exit in a small alcove. It's blocked by a potted tree, but you'll still need to be careful. Go right since I think that's the direction they were going. And, for your own safety, don't give away that you know anything."

"Of course."

He took the hand he was holding and set it on the handle. Then he put his hands on either side of her arms and squeezed past her.

His steps were not quite muffled, but he made good time descending. She saw a little flash of light when he exited and then started focusing on her counting. She didn't wait the sixty seconds he'd said to before letting herself out. She wanted—no needed—to find the thief.

She peered past the potted tree Rolland had told her would be there but saw nothing beyond the alcove. She waited a moment before letting herself out the rest of the way and shut the jib door quickly behind her, amazed by how perfectly disguised it was. With no time to think on it longer, she slipped around the tree to peek into the corridor. Empty. She darted to the right, her hasty steps turning into a jog.

She was on the second floor not many doors from her own bedchamber and moving toward the staircase. Where was he? At the top of the steps, she froze in dismay.

Rolland was at the bottom.

She shook her head, and he did the same. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. They'd been so close. A few moments later he was by her side. "To the third floor." He grabbed her hand and pulled her down a short central corridor to a third staircase she had not even been up before. If she had been thinking clearly, she would have turned and fled up that staircase sooner.

When they reached the landing, they met up with their tour group. Rolland instantly released her grip and stepped away. So the chase was over? They had lost? Or was the culprit someone among the tour? Everyone was accounted for. Even Mr. Stewart, who had joined the group at some point. That meant there was no one to eliminate and no one to pin the crime on.

Tansy met her gaze and gave her a curious look. Theresia's dismay was likely written all over her face. Forcing a smile, she tried to focus on His Grace, though his words only buzzed in her head. Beside her, Rolland stepped closer once more, his hands clasped behind his back. When his arm touched her own, she was filled with a strange wave of comfort.

They had missed their man this time, but they wouldn't fail again.

Rolland had promised to help her, and right now that was everything to her.