“I know someplace we can go where we won’t be interrupted.” Mischief sparks in his eyes.

“Are you suggesting we sneak away from my family’s stuffy, hideously boring Victorian themed holiday soiree to make out?” Widening my eyes, I cover my mouth with my fingertips in mock outrage. “Why, Mr. Gardener, the impropriety of such a suggestion! I’ll be banished from every society event for the rest of the season. How dare you! What about keeping up appearances? What of my virtue?”

“Are you finished?” His hand dips from my waist over the curve of my hip, down to the very lowest sliver of territory that could still be called my back and not my ass.

“Should I mention all of the children present at this festive occasion?” I peer up at him, so handsome and dashing in his tuxedo my heart flutters with appreciation.

“You could, but most of them have been ushered out by their nannies and either put to bed or forced to watch Christmas movies until they fall asleep from boredom.”

The orchestra wraps up their current song, a classic waltz, and the crowd politely claps. Their restrained appreciation barely creates a ripple of noise. Perhaps all those elbow-length evening gloves are partly to blame. Glancing around the room and through the opening to the grand foyer, I realize he’s right. Not a single small human in sight. Nor do I see either of my grandparents who typically prefer to be in bed by nine sharp.

The grandfather clock in the corner shows the hour to be well past ten, which is practically two a.m. for these people. As soon as the clock chimes eleven, a mass exodus will clog the front door and driveway with revelers.

Running my hand over the soft fabric of his lapel, I arch closer to whisper in his ear, “Lead the way before I make the scandal from my debutante ball pale in comparison.”

His eyes dart over my head, scanning the room for a beat, and then he closes the distance to place a soft kiss on my mouth. “Let’s go.”

With his hand on my lower back, he guides me off of the dance floor and through the crowd of New England’s wasp-iest WASPs. Women in respectable, but boring dresses flank the stuffed tuxedos representing their husbands. I never, ever want to become one of them. Ever. Both nature and nurture be damned.

We make it out of the ballroom without notice.

Real candles and sparkling mercury glass ornaments brighten an enormous tree in the center of the grand foyer. Evergreen and boxwood boughs drape over the banisters and doorways. Slim, white taper candles dance in their wall sconces. Off of the foyer, a fire glows in the library’s fireplace; its mantle heavy with greenery.

“Quick, before we’re spotted,” Geoffrey whispers, squeezing my hand as he pulls me through the foyer.

I laugh at his antics; the urgency and secrecy are ridiculously sexy. “Are you afraid I’ll turn into the kitchen maid at the stroke of midnight?”

He spins me into his arms and kisses me on the mouth, not caring that I’m laughing at him. “All evening you’ve tortured me with this dress. I’ve never loved a strapless gown as much as I love this one.”

We’ve been dating for two years and the chemistry between us only seems to increase. We met at the annual summer party held at my parents’ club in Boston. Geoffrey was there with one of my cousins. Our eyes met across the room and the rest of the world disappeared. We’ve been inseparable ever since.

“I like you hot and bothered,” I tease him.

“Careful what you wish for, Miss Winthrop. A man can only take so much before he breaks.”

I grin up at him. “Oh, really?”

He kisses me again before releasing all but my hand and continuing our quick pace down the hall.

“Come on, I’ll show you if you don’t believe me.” He opens a random door and pulls me inside. No holiday cheer extends to this room. Only the soft light filters through the windows from outside. Dark wood paneling and built-in shelves stand guard in the shadowy darkness.

There are no decorations or lit candles in the darkened room.

Geoffrey pulls a lighter from his jacket pocket, flicking it on to provide enough illumination to see each other’s faces more clearly.

“A darkened office?” I spin in a slow circle. Stopping, I point at the super creepy painting of a man dressed in all black. “Is that Jonathan Winthrop’s portrait? I’m not sure I find him handsome. The fluffy, white wig does nothing for me.”

“Good to know you don’t find your great, great, great grandfather attractive.” He strolls toward the painting.

“I think you forgot a great. Or added one. I can never keep the number straight.” I follow him and his small circle of light from the flame in his hand. “What are you looking for? Shouldn’t we lock the door if we’re going to do improper things to each other in front of dear old Gramps?”

He chuckles as he runs his finger along the bottom edge of a thick chair rail. “Aha!”

A soft click is followed by a creaking sound when a secret door hidden behind the portrait swings open.

“After you.” He sweeps his arm forward into the even darker area of the windowless room lined with more shelves.

“And mysteriously, young Alice was never seen after the Christmas Ball.” I peek into the tiny space.

“I’ll keep you safe.” He pulls a candle from his pocket and lights the wick.

“Your tuxedo is like Mary Poppins magic carpet bag. What else do you have in there?” I open the flaps of his jacket and pat him down, lingering over the ripples of muscle along his stomach.

“You’re incorrigible.” After a quick kiss, he sets the candle on a shelf and closes the door behind me.

“What is this room? The house is too old for a bomb shelter.” I peer at the rows of books, neatly ordered except for a few older looking journals haphazardly stacked on the top shelf.

“Every mansion needs a secret room.” His arms wrap around my middle while he dips his head to run his nose along my jaw.

“Every family needs a villain,” I whisper.

He pulls back and stares into my eyes, serious. “You can be the hero of your own story. Don’t let their expectations and disappointments dim your light.”

When his fingers skim the top of my dress, dipping beneath the thick satin, I forget to ask how he knows about this room.