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C
ourtland was lost on a sea of indecision. When Letty had impulsively hugged him, he’d been comforted as well as assailed by a crash of awareness for her. She’d spoken of love with such authority he’d believed her. The trouble was, the feelings that had sprang to life ever since he’d rescued her from his snow-covered drive yesterday were most certainly not those of friendship.
But did he want a romance with her? Did she want one with him?
As he and Letty rooted through various boxes and trunks, he pulled out a square-shaped music box. “I remember this.” He held it aloft so she could see it.
“I do too.” She carefully took it from him and then wound the tiny brass key in its base. “We tried to convince you boys to dance with us, but you were having none of it.”
As the rather tinny notes of a song from long ago filled the immediate space, Courtland grinned. “Forgive us. As young men, we wanted no part of that sort of thing.” He found her gaze in the dim illumination. “Had I but known it would have been twenty years since I was able to see you again, I would have given you that dance.”
“What a nice compliment.” When she handed him back the music box, there was a faint blush in her cheeks. “It’s too bad life ran away with us. I think you and I would have been good friends over the years.”
“We should have conversed, agreed, but after my mother died, life at home wasn’t the same.” Carefully, he replaced the treasure into the trunk. “Father declined rapidly. He took less and less interest in the world around him. Plus, there was Abigail, and she was quite the hoyden.” Courtland shook his head. “There was scarcely time for anything of a personal nature.”
“You felt as if you were the glue holding your broken family together.”
“Very much so. It was rather mind-boggling for a young man of my age.” It was uncanny how well she understood him, but there was something to be said for that as well.
At a dead end in the aisle they occupied, Letty perched upon a packing crate. “Sorry, I need to take the weight off my ankle.”
“Does it still pain you?” He leaned a shoulder against a nearby stack of boxes and crossed his arms at his chest. As much as he wanted to examine her ankle as an excuse to touch her, he refrained, for he couldn’t promise not to kiss her again. That would be pure folly and would only feed his confusion.
“At times. The trip up those stairs didn’t help.” She glanced about. Since they’d left their candles on other boxes, the shadows ate up the area around them.
“I can carry you down if you wish.” The opportunity to have her in his arms again, however innocently, appealed.
“No, I should be able to manage, though Mama will be cross I haven’t managed to find those dratted bells.”
“If they’re here, we’ll find them.” But he wasn’t anxious to continue the search, not if it meant an end to enjoying her company. Dust covered most of the boxes, which meant it wasn’t a section of attic used frequently. “There are times when I miss the Christmastide celebrations from the past. Papa enjoyed them heartily, though I suppose his motivation was to make my mother smile.”
“It sounds as if your parents loved each other deeply.”
“I’d like to think so. Papa never spoke of it, but the fact he faded away after Mama died lies as a testament to that romance.” Then he chuckled. “How do you manage it?”
“Manage what?” A slight frown marred her expression.
“Pulling secrets from me, admissions I’ve never told anyone before.” Courtland shook his head, and then daring much, pushed off from the wall of boxes. He settled onto the packing crate beside her. “It’s been years since I spoke of any of this, and one of the first times I’ve wanted to talk about my father.”
When she smiled, there was the slight sensation of falling, but it passed quickly. “Perhaps I’m the comfortable sort. Or perhaps it’s the mother in me.”
He shrugged and his shoulder brushed hers. Tingles emanated from the brief point of contact. “Perhaps it’s merely your graceful spirit and how at ease you make me feel.”
A delighted gleam appeared in her eyes, along with tiny gold specks in those deeply brown irises. “I’m glad of that, for I feel the same way with you. As if we were always supposed to meet again.”
“There are times when I’m convinced fate plays more than its fair hand at things.”
For long moments they sat side by side. Minutes slipped away as the light faded and was overcome by the shadows of the evening, but they continued to talk, of everything and nothing at once. In many ways, it was reminiscent of the time they spent that long-ago Christmas Eve in these very attics, only now there was a certain charm to the conversation, a thread of excitement that only being in Letty’s company could bring.
Finally, from deep in the bowels of the castle, a bell was rung that signaled it was time to dress for dinner.
Courtland heaved a shuddering sigh as he slid off the packing crate. “I suppose we should return downstairs and tell the duchess of our failure.”
“At least we made a good effort. Mama can’t fault us for that.” When he offered her a hand, she slipped her fingers into his palm. Warmth curled along his arm as if she’d manufactured her own fire. “Thank you, kind sir.”
He chuckled. “Allow me to escort you through the treacherous attics to the door that leads to an escape route, fair lady.” It was over the top play acting, but it felt right. On the way, they each retrieved the candleholders they’d abandoned. Both were burned to the halfway point. “I must admit, it will be nice to sit before a cheerful fire. I didn’t realize how chilly it was up here.”
“It really is. And so far away from the occupied portion of the castle. I don’t believe it’s even over the kitchens, for if it were, we could have perhaps felt a few stolen plumes of heat from the ovens.” She snickered. “These are the things you don’t think about as children.”
“Would you ever let Lucy come up here and play?” he asked as he led the way through the maze of boxes and trunks that littered the floor.
“Perhaps, but not alone. Every child should know the wonder of these attics at least once in their lives. Playing at pretend is healthy for the imagination.”
“Indeed.” Once they finally reached the door, Courtland pressed the brass handle. The lever didn’t go down and neither did the mechanism click in the lock. “That’s odd.” He frowned and stooped closer using the light of the candle to illuminate the latch. “Let me try again.” But the second attempt yielded the same result. When he stood, he met Letty’s gaze. “We have a slight problem.”
“What’s wrong?”
“The door is either stuck, the latch too rusted, or we’re locked inside.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s old and probably needs a bit of finessing.” With a smile, she handed him her candleholder. “Let me try.” She attempted pressing the latch, and when that failed, she wrapped her fingers around the handle and shook it. Nothing she did would open the panel. A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth as she stared first at the handle and then at him. “Why would someone lock the door? Mama knew we were up here.”
“I have no idea. Perhaps it locked by itself. If it’s old and has never been replaced or maintained, the mechanism could be faulty.”
Letty snorted. She eyed him askance. “That’s doubtful. It smacks of a prank one of my students would try to pull on a teacher, except we are far removed from Brighton.” She stooped down and peered into the lock. “Well, drat.”
“What?” The dual candle flames flickered with the air he stirred.
“The view into the corridor is unobstructed. There’s no key.”
Now that was odd. “Why would anyone take the key? And when had it happened?” He shook his head. “Wouldn’t we have heard that?”
“I’m sure I don’t know.” Letty stood. Apprehension lined her face. Shadows spilled into her eyes. “I don’t fancy being forgotten up here. It used to be a particular nightmare of mine as a young girl.” She blew out a breath that ruffled a couple of baby fine curls on her forehead. “What now?” The look in her eyes proclaimed her at nonplussed as he.
Courtland frowned as he glanced about the immediate area. Nothing except boxes and the objects they’d removed met his gaze. “Is there a different exit point? Perhaps a servants’ stair or door?”
“Perhaps. I haven’t been up here for years but I’m game to look. Especially if it will expel us from this room.” A shiver racked her shoulders. “I can’t fathom another hour up here.”
“There’s no need to panic quite yet. Perhaps it was merely an oversight by the housekeeper. Eventually, someone will return.”
“I hope you’re right.”
For the moment, he didn’t mind, for being in her company was much like a gift he hadn’t expected. Each second spent with her was like a glittering jewel in the string of life and they illuminated his path in ways he hadn’t counted on.
As they explored the perimeter of the attics, he kept up a stream of conversation.
“My sister Abigail changed along with my father after my mother died. Mama’s death affected her much differently than it did me, which I suppose is as expected.”
“Of course. No two people are the same, even in grief.”
“While I went inward, wrote out my feelings and questions into journals or by trying my hand at poetry or drawing, she dealt with her sadness by acting out, doing things that might land her into scandal or gain notice by the wrong people.”
“I can see that about her. She’s in desperate need of attention, and I hope she finds a man who will both embrace her wild side and tame it slightly.” Letty flashed a smile. “I imagine she’s merely lonely.”
“Perhaps. Papa let her have her head, for he hadn’t the wherewithal to curb her behavior.”
“And you? What happened to you after that?”
Courtland shrugged. “I returned to Eton then went on to Oxford. Toured the Continent after that as all sons of titled gentlemen do. By the time I came home, Abigail had become a sensation for all the wrong reasons. I tried to match her to perhaps settle her, but for whatever reason, her Seasons didn’t take. She didn’t want her heart engaged, but she wanted everything else that came along with being courted.”
“Heartbreak can take many forms, but don’t despair. When the right man comes along, she’ll be smitten.” The smile she gave him had excitement buzzing at the base of his spine. “You yourself have done somewhat the same thing by shielding yourself from marrying. Why is that?”
He might as well be honest. “Papa’s heart broke after Mama died. He was a shell of himself. Abigail and I suffered the same to a lesser degree, so I shied away from being matched because...” How could he admit to such a weakness, especially to a woman he wished to impress?
Letty nodded. “You didn’t want to live through that pain again, for it would be at a greater level than merely losing a parent.” She put a hand on his arm. “I understand. It’s why I’ve not married again.”
At least he had that answer to that particular question. “Yes. This is so.”
She sighed. “Perhaps we’re both wrong.”
“How so?” Of all the things he’d expected her to say, that wasn’t it.
“Come.” She pulled him over to a couple of packing crates and sat down beside him. “As time goes by, and especially after participating in this Christmastide house party where my two oldest brothers have found themselves matched, I’ve come to see that life is for living. The heart is for feeling.” Her gaze dropped to her hands, which lay clasped in her lap. “What’s the good of having that organ if we keep it carefully tucked away for safe keeping? At least if we feel the whole gambit of emotions, we know we’re alive.”
“You’ve alluded to that before.”
“I have, but it’s the sentiment that has become clear to me in the last day.” She didn’t look at him, but his pulse hammered out a rapid tattoo all the same.
Why was that?
Aloud, he said, “That makes sense.” He was silent for a long while as the flames danced on their candles. Eventually, he rested them on another box. “I always thought I’d find that deep love like my parents shared for myself one day.”
“How could you when you haven’t looked?” One of her eyebrows lifted in challenge as she finally turned her head and looked at him.
“Touché.” He met her gaze, fell into those dark pools, really. “If you ever found a man who made you feel as you did with Henry, would you marry again?”
For the space of a few heartbeats, unreadable emotions clouded her eyes. “It would largely depend on the man.”
“Ah.” For much of his life he’d missed opportunities when it came to women; he didn’t intend to miss this one... if there was even such a thing with Letty. And this was as good a chance as any since they were stuck for the moment. He cupped her cheek as he turned more fully toward her. When their knees touched, sensation raced up his leg. “I wonder if you’d consider me as a possible candidate if you ever wish to begin that search.”
“I... I...” Confusion lined her face, but she didn’t pull away.
“I’ll take that for an agreement.” Then, before his courage could desert him, Courtland gently kissed her. He’d not had much experience with women, and those he did have happened when sneaking out of Oxford or while on his tour, but none of those liaisons had ever made him feel as if he were both flying and falling simultaneously as he did while kissing Letty. When he broke their connection, but only just, his chuckle was a trifle breathless. The warmth of her breath skated over his jaw, his lips. “I should have asked your permission.”
“Oh, la.” She smiled and it was as if the sun had risen hours too soon. “Know I’d always grant it, Courtland. You’re becoming quite dear to me.”
His heart skipped a beat. “How nice to hear.” He kissed her again, and when she looped her arms about his shoulders, he pulled her closer, settled her more comfortably into his embrace, and set out to explore the contours of her lips, nibble at the corners of her mouth, tease the seam. As she invited him to deepen the kiss, he declined, suddenly fearful, his heart racing.
What if this was only a by-product of their shared confidences and of being temporarily trapped in a far-removed room in the castle?
But Letty didn’t seem to mind his unwillingness to chase the heat that twined between them, and neither did she push out of his arms. Courtland relaxed, and for long moments, they simply introduced themselves through kisses and tender licks, and a few chaste caresses through clothing. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to be in her company thusly, but if they continued, that banked heat would catch up with them, and above all, he wished to remain a gentleman with her.
“Ah, Letty, you’re going straight to my head,” he whispered against her lips as he set her away.
“Then that’s a good sign there’s sufficient chemistry between us.” Her eyes twinkled in the dim illumination.
He stifled a groan, easing off the packing crate before she could spy the evidence of his awareness. “Should we continue to hunt for a way out?”
“I rather think it’s too dark now. We might injure ourselves in the chaos up here, and Lord knows I don’t need another hurt ankle.” She rose and made her way back to the attic door, where she tried the handle again. After pounding on the wooden panel as well as shouting for assistance, she left off from the endeavor. Her shoulders slumped. “Unless the family notices we’re missing at dinner and doesn’t presume either you left or I retired early, or unless a servant passes this way, we’re trapped for the night.” A shiver racked her shoulders, for the chill was beginning to press in.
Despite the gravity of their situation, laughter escaped Courtland. He gave into it, perhaps hysterically, before getting himself in hand.
“What’s so funny?” Letty propped her hands on her hips. “This isn’t ideal.”
“No, it’s not, but it’s the most interesting and unforgettable Christmas Eve I’ve spent in a long while. I definitely won’t forget it.”
Her lips twitched with shared amusement. “Perhaps you’re right.” When her gaze fell to his mouth, he tamped on his swift and heated reaction. “There are worse things, I suppose.”
“Indeed.” He held out a hand. “Perhaps we should find a more comfortable place to settle until rescue arrives. I rather think sitting on packing crates will prove annoying and quite numbing.”
Passing at least a portion of the night with Letty by his side suddenly didn’t seem like a hardship, especially if another kiss was in the offing. He only hoped he had the willpower to remain a gentleman, for she was tempting, and he was falling further for her, all in the space of two days.