Chapter 29

The resounding crash of stone on stone echoed in Rolland's ears. Had a ceiling collapsed somewhere? He and Marcus stared at each other in mutual horror for a brief second before making a mad dash to the staircase. They darted down, the anxious staccato from their steps fueling his speed and his fears. A prayer slipped through his lips for Theresia, his parents, Lewis, the women, and every other guest. "Let no one be hurt."

The tower was much higher up than he'd noticed while ascending. Oh, why had he and Marcus thought it a good opportunity to discuss their plans while ignoring the others? They should've waited until they were home. After what felt like forever, they finally reached the ground and rushed back inside the keep. Lewis and Miss Yearsley were there, wide-eyed and breathless. Mr. Stewart was there, too, like he'd just come from a back room.

"Where are the others?" Rolland asked.

Lewis pointed to the stairs that went up to the roof of the keep. "They're all still up there. I think that's where the noise came from."

Marcus beat Rolland to the stairs, but he was right on his heels, and Lewis and Miss Yearsley were not far behind. Up and up they went, time suspended.

Daylight flooded them when they hit the roof of the keep, the climb not nearly as steep or as long as that of the guard tower. Large pieces of stone littered one corner of the keep, but no bodies seemed to be beneath the rubble. His eyes found his parents, his mother in his father's arms, worried but unharmed, and the Havershams, Lady Cadogen, and Lord Vernon. All were unscathed.

"What happened?" Marcus demanded.

"A part of the second guard tower collapsed," Rolland's father answered.

Theresia! Where were she and Her Grace? Rolland moved to the half wall and cast his gaze downward, searching for what he hoped he would not see. Behind him was another commotion, and he turned to see the subject of his thoughts step onto the landing. Mr. Hawke came up behind the ladies. Where had he been?

"We heard the noise and came as quickly as we could," Her Grace said, rushing to Marcus. "Was anyone hurt?"

"Miraculously, no," Lord Vernon answered. "Though, if these ruins were at all unsafe, we ought to have been informed before coming."

"They are called ruins for a reason," Lewis answered, his annoyance shared by Rolland and probably others.

Rolland went to his mother. "Are you well?"

"Just a little rattled," she whispered.

"We were standing there just moments before it happened," his father added.

Rolland's stomach dropped.

Marcus clapped his hands to quiet the sudden fervor of talking in the group. "If no one has been harmed, I propose we return to Ashbury Court. I am certain my housekeeper knows of a tea for settling nerves if anyone is still shaken by the time we arrive."

Mutual nods passed around the group. Starting with Theresia, the group filed back down toward the main room of the keep. Rolland was last to leave, too curious about the accident to leave just yet. He stared up at the crumbling guard tower, now in far worse condition than the one he had just left. It was almost adjacent to the keep. He observed the portion of the wall that was newly missing and tilted his head. Could it really have broken off at such an unfortunate time, or had someone pushed the stones loose? With the distance it had fallen, the stone likely scattering when it hit, it was impossible to tell the exact spot it had crashed against.

Rolland ran a hand down his face. Had someone just tried to kill his father, or was his paranoia making him jump to unnecessary conclusions? By the time he reached the carriages, everyone had climbed inside but Theresia, who stood at the last one in line. She was speaking to a footman, and curious, Rolland drew closer. By the time he reached her, the first carriage was already pulling away.

"Did he say anything else?" she asked the footman.

"No, miss. Just gave me that letter to deliver to you when it was time to depart."

Rolland stepped up beside her, his hand naturally going to her back. "Is something amiss?"

She looked up at him, her eyes still as startled as when she'd come onto the keep's roof. "You won't believe it. I saw that old man from London again. The one you saved from being robbed. He left this for me." She held up a sealed parchment folded small enough to fit in her palm.

He moved to the carriage window, noting the last conveyance was empty. It wasn't exciting, like traveling in the barouche, but it would suit them well. "It looks like you'll have the privacy to read it on the drive." He offered her his hand and helped her inside.

Once they were settled across from each other, the carriage rocked forward. She broke the seal and opened her letter. He watched her eyes scan several lines and waited patiently for her to volunteer what she would.

She met his eyes. "He says he has been watching out for me and not to worry. It's signed Godfather ."

"Godfather?"

"Do you recall when he gave me the purse of money? When I tried to refuse him, he said to think of him as my godfather. Do you know what is even more remarkable? I saw him the day we all went shopping in town, but just like today, he left before I could speak to him." She held up the letter again and began to reread it.

Rolland scratched his jaw. "But what does he mean by watching out for you? I don't care for the idea of an old man following you about."

Her eyes left the paper, and she looked up at him. "He's harmless. I can tell."

He leaned forward in his seat. "But did he follow you all the way from London?"

"I cannot say. Could it have been a coincidence? Perhaps he recognized me that day outside the millinery and he has been watching out for me ever since."

"It's possible, but the chance meetings could be contrived too."

"The thief in the streets could not have been. That was by no means purposeful; you must agree."

"I suppose." His knee bumped against hers, and it was hard to focus on the mysterious godfather when all he could remember was her in his arms.

She seemed to catch the same memory, because a soft blush caressed her creamy cheeks. He enjoyed watching her struggle to look away, but she finally accomplished it. She cleared her throat. "What do you think he means when he says not to worry? I cannot make anything of it."

"I'm not certain, but let's take the sentiment to heart. I will ask around about him. In the meantime, let's not worry about any of this. Lady Glass has enough on her plate as it is."

Her smile returned, but only just. "Will you let me know if you discover anything?"

"Of course."

She folded the letter and slipped it into her sleeve, relaxing back against the red-velvet seat. "What an unexpected day. Were your parents truly unharmed? Your mother was quite pale."

"Frightened, but well." He almost shared his suspicions, but without proof, they were just that. Most of the guests, even with their complicated histories, were likely harmless. Regardless, there was no reason to cast doubt on such an obtuse situation without more reason. "What about another story? Perhaps from Mrs. Stone's seminary?"

"You can hardly say it's my turn already. You left your turn unfinished."

He grinned. "Did I?"

She sucked in her lips, fighting a smile of her own. "You know what I mean."

"Do you want me to pick up where we left off or begin anew?"

Her cheeks went the color of the velvet behind her. "You're the worst sort of tease."

Tease? Who was teasing? Did she think he would kiss her for sport? He hoped he had more honor than that. "I never jest about how I feel. You can ask anyone who knows me."

The tension between them was thick and heady. He wanted nothing more than to pull her to him.

"Who will vouch for you?" She tilted her head in an irritatingly and completely alluring way. "And how do you propose I frame my question? ‘Excuse me, Your Grace, can you tell me if Captain Reese always kisses women when he prefers not to divulge information?'"

Rolland choked on his laugh, coughing into his hand. "A little less specific might be better."

Her lips came up on the sides, and it was clear she was taking far too much pleasure in turning the conversation on him. "How about this? ‘Is it singing or a rolling landscape that induces Captain Reese to display his affection?'"

Oh, she was enjoying this too much, but two could play this game. "You don't have to ask them ."

"No? Not your parents? You did say I could ask anyone."

He chuckled. "Come sit beside me, and I'll tell you the answer myself." He patted the seat beside him for emphasis.

She folded her arms against herself and purposefully turned her head to the window. "You're impossible." He knew by her smile that she was fighting the same feelings he was.

"I suppose if you don't want me to tell you, you'll have to discover the answer for yourself."

"Now that I've thought on it, I think I shall ask your parents."

Her quick wit was a challenge he relished. "Start with my father. He will definitely have an opinion."

"And will he also remind you that he's promised you to another?"

His smile dropped. Wretched promise. Rolland had been playing with fire, practically begging to be burned. There would be many difficulties to pass through should they continue on the path they'd started in the tower, and in the end someone would be hurt. He just didn't want it to be Theresia.

"I thought you might have forgotten," she said softly, the easy mood between them replaced with an uncomfortable undercurrent.

"Not completely, but it isn't something I can tiptoe around." He leaned back in his seat. "But what can I do? Your singing enticed me." His words didn't draw back the strain like he had hoped.

"I won't hold you accountable, Rolland. I knew your plans when I kissed you back. Perhaps we can pretend it never happened."

She was much too gracious. That would be the ideal strategy, but his gut knew when a plan was destined to fail. "I was never very good at pretending."

It was her turn not to answer. She had no better solution for him than he did, but there was only one path he desired to follow now. He would have to refuse his father, wouldn't he? He was in unfamiliar territory. Every second with Theresia served to deepen his desire to be by her side.

But how could he risk the future of England?

Heaven help him, but he wanted to.