“Do you want to continue searching for the jewelry box?” Edward asked Fiona when they returned to Thorncliff later.

He watched her hesitate for a moment – long enough to convey her reluctance and make his heart bleed – but then she smiled as if all was as it should be between them. “I would like that a great deal.”

While common sense told him to leave her alone, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from craving any small amount of time he might have left in her company. After all, Christmas would soon be over, and then they would part ways again – this time for much longer than ever before since he meant to add more distance between them. It was the only way for him to survive the truth she’d delivered with such painful accuracy, he’d felt his heart torn in two.

I consider you a brother, and I always will.

All hope had crumpled in an instant. And yet, while they were both still here, he would bask in her presence, absorbing each moment so it might be preserved to memory. This would be all he’d have left of her later, because staying near her and watching her marry another…that was not the sort of torture he planned to endure.

“Has Emily told you Montsmouth came here looking for the same thing as you?” he asked, once she’d handed over her packages to a footman and told her sisters she’d see them later.

They crossed the foyer and headed down a hallway, arriving in the Turkish salon shortly after. “Not the exact same thing,” Fiona said. She started running her hands across the wall in search of any inconsistencies. “He looks for paintings and books. I look for a family heirloom.”

Edward studied a painting that hung on the wall. It portrayed a scene from a harem with women lounging on mounds of cushions, veils shrouding their faces. “True. I was thinking it might be an idea for us all to work together – get your sisters and the other gentlemen involved. We’d cover more ground and… Hmm…Look at this.”

“What is it?”

She came to stand beside him, and her shoulder grazed his arm as she looked at where he was pointing. A sharp pang of need shot straight through his limbs. Stilling, he did his best to suppress the urge to pull her into his arms and do what he’d wanted to do for so long – to kiss her senseless. In the shop earlier, holding her delicate foot in his hand, he’d been rendered both speechless and insensible, the urge to slide his hand higher and offer a more intimate caress so potent, all he’d been able to do was stay perfectly still lest he act on that urge.

Thankfully, he’d managed to restrain himself, and he would continue to do so now while she leaned in slightly, her citrusy scent assailing his senses and luring him closer until—

“Is that a peep hole?” she asked.

“Ahem…” He straightened himself and gave a stiff nod. “Yes. I believe so.” It was tiny and extremely well hidden next to the frame. He never would have spotted it if he hadn’t been searching.

“So then one of the secret passageways ought to be right behind here.” Her voice held an edge of excitement that managed to ease Edward’s tension. “Richard says he used them frequently when he was here. So did Chloe and her husband.” She turned with bright enthusiasm. “Do you think we might explore it?”

“I don’t see why not as long as we’re able to find a way into it.” He pressed his palm firmly against the wall. When it failed to give way, he slid his gaze toward the corner of the room where a beautifully carved cabinet stood. He walked toward it.

“You don’t suppose there’s a door behind there?” Fiona followed directly behind him, her excitement rolling off her in waves.

“It’s as good a guess as any. Unless the entrance to the passageway is from somewhere else, but considering the peephole, I believe there must be some means of access from this room.” He stood in front of the cabinet, studying it for a moment before applying a bit of pressure to the front of it. It remained where it was.

“Perhaps if you pull?”

He tried that next but it still didn’t budge, so he opened the top door and searched the interior, reaching behind some candles that stood like soldiers in their holders and running his fingers across the wood in the back. When he touched a knob jutting out from the side, he stopped and took a deep breath.

“What is it?” Fiona asked. She moved nearer, trying to see.

It was more than he could bear. “Perhaps if you step back a bit, I’ll be better able to figure that out,” he said. His voice was as strained as he was, but it was the best he could do under the circumstances. As it was, he was balancing on a thin line that threatened to break at any second.

“Very well.”

She sounded disgruntled, which almost made him laugh. If either of them had cause for such emotion, it was surely he. But he was intent on maintaining his composure, so he focused on moving the knob, fumbling slightly until the slippery piece of metal gave way, and he heard a distinct click. The cabinet moved – not much, but enough for him to know he’d met with success.

Pulling his arm back, he grabbed one of the candles, along with an available tinderbox. Then he closed the door to the cabinet and pulled the entire piece of furniture back from the wall to reveal a dark entrance.

“Oh my goodness,” Fiona murmured, brushing right past him to peer inside. She glanced at him over her shoulder. “It smells a bit musty.”

“I’m sure it does.” Stepping up behind her, he gave the space some consideration. “It’s probably full of spiders too, and we both know how much you hate those.”

“Yes. I really do, but I’m determined to see this through, Chadwick.” Her voice was firm and unyielding.

“Very well then.” He opened the tinderbox, struck a piece of flint, and lit the candle. “Follow me, Fiona.”

She did so without argument, closing the hidden doorway behind them until the candle remained their only source of light. The space was narrower than he’d expected, his shoulders almost brushing against either side of it as they made their way forward. Fiona’s warmth radiated against his back in her effort to stay as close as possible without actually climbing onto him. A grim smile captured his lips. If he’d only refrained from mentioning the spiders, she might have kept her distance, and he might have managed to keep his sanity.

The thought had barely formed before he felt a bit of thin and sticky film clinging snugly to his forehead. He wiped it away with his free hand right before Fiona let out a squeal and grabbed hold of his arm. “Get it off, get it off, get it off!” She clutched at him, and he almost dropped the candle as he turned toward her, illuminating her terrified face and the spindly spider that crawled across her forehead, desperately thwarting her flapping hand.

“Hold still,” he said, applying his most commanding tone in an effort to make her comply.

She immediately stopped moving, her eyes squeezed tightly together while her rapid breaths conveyed her anxiety and she waited for him to save her. Reaching out, he snatched the arachnid between his fingers and tossed it aside. “There. It’s gone.” He prepared to turn back around and continue walking when she suddenly launched herself forward, straight into his arms.

Holy hell!

“Thank you,” she murmured against his shoulder, her face pressed firmly into his brushed wool jacket. Her hands gripped at his shoulders as though he offered some safe escape from her frightening surroundings.

“Perhaps we ought to go back. The Turkish salon isn’t far.”

“No.” She shook her head against him, and he could feel heat penetrating every layer of clothing he wore when she expelled each breath.

Rigidly, he lowered his free arm, allowing the limb to fall loosely around her waist. “It was only a spider, Fiona. Nothing more.”

“I know, Edward. I…I just hate them so much.”

He couldn’t form a response. Not when she’d used his given name for the second time in her life. And the way she’d said it – as if he and he alone offered every bit of security she’d require— made his chest tighten until a ragged breath was squeezed from his lungs.

Unable to stop himself, he allowed his palm to rest against the small of her back, to revel in the feel of her luscious body pressed up against his. Oh, he would likely rot in hell for taking advantage of her innocent need for reassurance like this. But to not do so would lead to regret later. So he held her close until he felt her relax.

“Fiona?”

“Hmm?”

The way she murmured and pressed slightly closer made him wonder if… Perhaps… He shook his head. No. There was no point in dreaming when she’d given him no reason to hope. Quite the contrary. So he lowered his arm and asked her seriously, “Shall we continue?”

She let go of him faster than someone might drop a piece of hot coal. “Of course we should.”

He wasn’t sure whether to be offended by her sudden dismissal or not. Hesitating only a moment, he chose not to dwell on it, asking her simply, “Are you going to be all right in here?”

“I will be fine, Chadwick. Please light the way.”

Ah, so they were back to the honorific.

He already missed the closeness they’d shared moments earlier, however brief or one-sided it had been. But since he wasn’t willing to wallow in self-pity, he turned away and continued walking while floorboards creaked beneath his feet. Holding his hand out in front of his face, he brushed aside upcoming cobwebs and received no further complaints from Fiona, for which he was glad.

“There’s a corner here,” he said when they reached a sharp turn. “Watch your step.” Rounding it, Edward held up the candle to illuminate the space ahead of them. “It looks like this might go on for a while.”

“How can that be? Thorncliff has windows, and all of the rooms have doors. The passageways have to be broken up somehow, either by stairs or…or something else.”

“You’re right.” He started forward once more, then stopped and dropped to a crouch.

“What are you doing?”

Lowering the candle, he illuminated the space between the floor and the wall. “There’s a slight decline. If I’m not mistaken, we’ve been walking downward all of this time, in which case we might soon be beneath Thorncliff altogether.”

“Perhaps this leads to the villa, then, or connects to the other underground tunnels we know about?”

“It’s a possibility.” He stood and continued walking. “It is also possible we’re headed in an entirely different direction, though I could be wrong.”

“But if you’re right?”

“After entering the passage, we walked parallel with the east wall of the Turkish salon, heading north. Did you count our paces?”

“No. Did you?”

He nodded. “We took thirty, which would have placed us well past the salon, perhaps somewhere beneath the hallway that leads toward the grand staircase.”

“And then we made a turn,” Fiona said.

“Yes. Straight west.” Resuming his pace, he spoke while he walked. “The underground villa and the tunnels that lead to the sea are in the opposite direction. Right now, I’d say we’re heading toward the foyer.”

“Uncharted territory?” She couldn’t have sounded more thrilled.

He smiled in response. “Quite so, my little adventuress.”

She didn’t respond with the quick retort he’d expected. Instead, she kept quiet for several seconds before quietly saying, “You do realize I’m no longer a child, Chadwick?”

“I…er… It’s sometimes difficult to remember,” he teased in an effort to hide how aware he’d become of her womanly charms.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered.

But he didn’t miss the hint of annoyance in her voice as she said it, so he came to a halt and turned to face her, expelling a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Fiona. I didn’t mean to upset you. Obviously you’ve…” He struggled against the dryness in his mouth while he stared down into her dimly lit eyes. “You’re quite grown up now, I see, but I do hope that won’t affect our friendship in any way.”

“No.” She averted her gaze, hiding whatever expression might lurk there.

He forced himself to continue – to say what was necessary. “I’ve always enjoyed our repartees, your wit, and your smart rejoinders. This,” he waved a hand to indicate their surroundings, “is one of the things I love about you.”

Her eyes had snapped back to his. “One of the things you love about me?”

Jesus Christ and all his apostles!

Her astonishment was undeniable. She stared up at him with wide eyes that made him want to kick himself for revealing so much. “Of course,” he said, forcing a nonchalant tone. “You’re like family.”

She nodded. “We’ve had some fun times together over the years,” she said, and he breathed a sigh of relief at her change in subject. “Do you remember when we climbed onto the stable roof at Oakland House a couple of years ago?”

Grinning at the memory, he swung away from her and recommenced walking. “When you climbed onto the stable roof, you mean? The only reason I went up was because you got stuck and needed someone to save you.”

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell Spencer about it. Or anyone else for that matter.”

“And get you into trouble? I couldn’t allow that after you’d covered for me with your cook.”

“She was furious when she discovered the missing supplies in the pantry.”

“As I recall, she needed those things for supper, though I didn’t realize it at the time.”

Fiona laughed. “We had broth that day while you—”

“Enjoyed a lovely picnic with Lady Jemima.” Damn! He bit his tongue, but the name was already out.

“So that’s who you snuck off to see. Will you tell me what happened with her?”

“Nothing.” He didn’t plan to elaborate.

“Please?” When he said nothing further, she quietly asked, “Did she break your heart?”

No. Only you are capable of doing so.

He winced, hating the disgruntled mood he was suddenly in. “She was a sweet girl, but she and I weren’t meant to be.”

“But you courted her? With the picnic and all?”

“I was never alone with her if that’s what you think. She brought friends, and we had a pleasant enough afternoon. The next time I saw her, she was getting engaged to Baron Whitham.”

“Oh.”

That was all she said, and for reasons he couldn’t explain, that single syllable grated unlike anything else in the world. “She doesn’t matter,” he found himself saying.

“Of course not,” she murmured in a way that suggested she did not believe him.

Deciding to drop the subject since only one thing might convince her Lady Jemima held no sway over his feelings, he gave his attention to the place ahead where the passageway split in a T. “These are some pretty big stones.” He passed the light over the wall in the next passageway. “There’s been nothing but wood until now, but even the ground is different here. There are stone slabs instead of planking, so I’m guessing we’ve reached the cellar level.”

“So then the foyer ought to be directly overhead?”

“I think so.” He held the candle out in front of him. “This tunnel leads off in both directions.”

“Do you want to continue exploring?”

He considered the hopefulness with which she spoke. “One hundred paces in that direction,” he said, pointing toward the right. “If we don’t find another entry to Thorncliff by then, I think we ought to return the way we came. We can always come back later with the others and some proper lanterns.”

“Agreed.”

He began counting off his steps. One, two, three, four, five…

“What made you decide to go this way?” Fiona asked.

“If I’m right and we’re underneath the foyer walking south, then going the opposite way would have led us out of Thorncliff to only God knows where.” Six, seven, eight…

“How clever of you.”

Edward drew to a halt. “I’m good for more than a laugh, Fiona.”

“I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Her hand touched his arm, and he inwardly groaned at the pleasure of having her so near. “I think the world of you, Chadwick. You must know that?”

“Of course I do.” It was just the pain of knowing she’d never be his that made him lash out. “But I’m also aware of what people say and of what they think.” He blew out a breath and then leaned against the wall. “It’s my own fault, I suppose, for always making fun in public – for always being ready with a joke and trying to make people laugh. Few people take me seriously.”

“I do,” she said, her hand squeezing against his arm while she spoke. “There’s no denying I’ve always been drawn to your mischievous nature and this propensity you have for silliness. Being around you is amusing, Chadwick, and the fact you gave your attention to me as a child when others your age ignored me is something I’ll always appreciate.”

He grunted slightly on impulse. “You were quite precocious.”

“The point is,” she continued without addressing his comment, “you’re so much more than what people think. Your success in business – the investments you’ve made in cotton mills, shipping, and the Mayfair Chronicle to name a few— is most impressive, not to mention the kindness with which you treat your tenants.”

Speechless, he stared at her upturned face, while candlelight flickered across her brow and cheekbones. There was some sort of desperation in her eyes – a keenness to make him see himself as she did. The honesty of it practically slayed him.

“How do you know all of this?” He’d never spoken of his responsibilities before or of how he made his money.

Shrugging, she drew back and let his arm go. “Spencer mentioned it once. I was interested, so I kept pestering him about it until he eventually escaped to his bedchamber and closed the door in my face.”

“You were interested?” It was all his mind could comprehend at the moment.

“Well, yes. Knowing how money is made is a useful bit of information to have, I should think. Even if men have a tendency to keep such things from women. So once I’d gotten Spencer talking, I did what I could to gain as much knowledge as possible.”

Of course, that had to be it. Because to think she might have had a more personal interest in him was obviously ludicrous. Still, he needed to take something with him – something more than the friendship she offered. So he reached up and placed the palm of his hand against her cheek, enjoying her startled expression and the warmth of her skin beneath his touch. It was so soft, he imagined stroking his fingers across it forever. Breathing was no longer as simple as it had been seconds before.

If only…

He retracted his hand before she might see how he felt. Dear God, please don’t let her see. “We should probably keep moving,” he heard himself say in a voice both distant and foreign. She didn’t reply, and he could practically hear the walls rising between them as he acknowledged the love he felt and that she’d never feel the same way. “Here. There’s an alcove.” He pushed the candle inside and looked around. “Stairs. Come along.”

They started up the uneven stone steps that sagged in the middle. “Are you all right?” He wanted to hear her voice.

“It’s a bit steep but I’m managing.”

“Good.” No other words were spoken until they reached the top. Here, the floor was once again made of wooden planks. Edward moved along, Fiona close behind, until he spotted a crack in the wall running all the way to the ceiling. He pressed his hand carefully against it until it gave way with a creak. “It’s the green salon,” he said, and stepped out into the room where several curious faces were watching their unusual arrival.

“I say,” Montsmouth remarked from his spot in an armchair. “Would it not have been simpler to come through the door?”

“I didn’t realize there was a tunnel right there,” Emily added. “Fiona, you look a fright, all covered in dust and heavens knows what else. If I might offer a suggestion, you’d best go change.”

“I plan on doing so right away,” Fiona said while Edward closed the wall paneling behind them.

“You too, Chadwick,” Lady Duncaster said. “Come back when the cobwebs have been removed from your hair. You can tell us all about your little adventure, while enjoying a cup of mulled wine.”

“Thank you, your ladyship.” Edward saw Fiona was already exiting the room.

He started to follow, but was stopped by Lord Oakland’s broad figure as he stepped into his path. Dipping his head, the earl whispered in Edward’s ear, “We’ve always considered you family, Chadwick, but I think it’s important to remember that you’re not – not really. Going off on your own with Fiona might not be your best course of action. I hope there’s no cause for concern?”

The warning could not have been clearer. “Of course not, my lord. It won’t happen again.” With this assurance, Edward left the room at a brisk pace and with the distinct feeling he’d landed in his own private hell.