Silas followed closely on Lady Mallory’s heels when she took off toward the smoke—and a red slatted door, the paint chipped off at the bottom to reveal the aged wood behind thick strands of ivy. It hadn’t dawned on him that anything was amiss—besides his forwardness in stealing a kiss from his betrothed—until she pulled back, and he was able to take the lead and draw his first deep breath since capturing her in his arms.

Smoke, thick and dark, clouded his vision and clogged his lungs as he ripped the door open and proceeded up the steep, narrow steps as hard packed dirt turned to stone. The smoke thinned when he traveled farther up the stairwell as great billows of it escaped downward. There was no need to glance over his shoulder and risk tripping up a step; he could sense Lady Mallory’s presence at his back, though she moved a bit slower as she climbed. When she’d disentangled herself from his embrace, he’d noted the familiar darkening of her eyes, much as they had on their first meeting.

Yet, there was no time to think about the peculiar way the light grey orbs had turned a tumultuous charcoal, nor could he allow his attraction to slow him down.

Someone was in trouble, and he must needs make certain they were away from the fire causing all the smoke around them.

When he reached the top step and pushed into the room, halting, Lady Mallory bumped into his back but quickly steadied herself on the railing.

“Where was she?” Silas squinted as he inspected the hazy room, attempting to locate the source of the fire—or, more importantly, Miss Felicity, especially if she were injured and needed help getting out. “Are you certain she was up here?”

The room was lined with workbenches stacked high with large tomes, several lying open as if Miss Felicity had been reading them recently. Another long, low table with an empty stool was arranged with several glass bottles of varying sizes and shapes. On yet another, jars lined the surface holding god knows what sort of foreign things. The smoke came from a stout glass container filled with a bluish-green liquid. The fog rolled over the top in dense but waning clouds and then floated upward.

“She was there,” Mallory said, pointing over his shoulder at the far workbench, but Miss Felicity was nowhere in sight.

Mallory pushed past him and swiftly moved about the room, searching for her friend.

The urge to pull her from the lab to safety was nearly overwhelming.

“The room is empty, Lady Mallory,” he called, taking her arm to halt her search. “I have no idea what caused the smoke, but we should not dawdle here. The haze could harm our lungs.”

She pulled from his grasp and turned large, rounded eyes on him. “But—but—she was here not long ago.”

“But she is not now.” The smoke was clearing quickly, giving Silas a clear view of the entire room. It was not overly large, and there was nowhere Miss Felicity could lurk. “What is all this?”

With one last glance about the work area, the tension appeared to flee Lady Mallory, and her shoulders sagged. Silas was going through a similar change, the immediate danger and terror subsiding and allowing their present circumstances to invade the moment.

He’d kissed her.

He’d come to Tetbery Estate to make amends with Lady Mallory, to throw himself at her mercy. Instead, he’d kissed her. Anyone could have seen them. It hardly signified anything if someone had. They were properly betrothed, and their wedding date set for as soon as the ground thawed. Their embrace wasn’t scandalously compromising.

Why then did he sense he’d complicated things between them instead of making them better?

Their kiss—more accurately, his response and the way she’d melted against him—proved they suited in the physical sense.

Mallory ran her fingers along one of the workbenches and paused to read one of the open books. “Felicity conducts vital experiments here.”

“She is a scientist?” His short time in England had not offered any information on Miss Felicity Fields. No one he’d met with spoke of the woman.

“Of sorts.”

“How can one be a scientist of sorts?”

“She’s set her mind to exploring the Philosopher’s Stone and the mythological chemical compound for immortality.”

If Mallory had any opinions regarding her friend’s activities, she made no mention of it. There was no judgment or disapproval in her tone. Silas wasn’t certain he’d take the same stance if one of his friends—not that he had any besides his siblings—spoke of such a harebrained idea as immortality.

He folded his arms across his chest as the final remnants of smoke cleared, and Mallory continued her slow walk about the room. With her attention focused elsewhere, Silas was free to truly take in the woman. With her dark brown tresses and petite height, she did not appear a woman who gained notice when she entered a room; however, Silas was unable to take his eyes off her. The natural sway of her rounded hips, the curve of her backside she could not hide even beneath a cloak, and the graceful poise she always seemed in command of.

“Immortality is something of make believe, is it not?” he asked, glancing away before his attraction became more apparent. When she only shrugged, he continued. “Science is a notable, worthy cause; however, a man in their right mind would be hard-pressed to agree that seeking immortality is a worthy use of one’s time.”

“It is not for you—or me—to decide that for Felicity.” The sad lilt in her voice had Silas wondering if Mallory knew more of what went on in this room. “Not all things can be proved or disproved by scientific method.”

Finally, she turned to him, but her eyes strayed to the stairwell behind him and the open door below before returning to meet his gaze. There was something there, just out of reach in her eyes, but Silas could not understand it.

Sorrow. Hurt. Defeat.

“I think it best I return downstairs before my aunt becomes concerned about my whereabouts.”

“And find Miss Felicity?”

She shook her head, confusion clouding her hooded stare. “Yes, of course.”

Silas did not dare take his stare from her. “You are returning home soon?”

“Aunt Hettie seeks to be at Blenheim Park before Christmastide.”

“You do not want to go?” He sensed the hesitancy in her answer.

“It is not that.” She drew her bottom lip between her teeth. “I rarely leave my family’s estate, and I do so enjoy seeing Felicity. My visit has been far too short.”

“But there will be other occasions to visit Tetbery.”

“I fear not, my lord,” Mallory said, clutching her gloved hands before her. “The duke is forcing Felicity to journey to London for a proper Season—to secure her a husband. This may very well be my last visit to the estate.”

“I’m certain you’ve spoken to your friend to reassure her that London is not the awful fate she thinks it is,” he prodded.

Her mouth drew downward, and her stare followed. “Unfortunately, I would not know what London and a proper Season entails beyond what I have heard from my mother or read about in the London Daily Gazette.”

Why had he assumed she’d been introduced to polite society? As the only daughter of a wealthy and influential marquess, it would be foolish to assume Mallory hadn’t been afforded a Season.

Then again, he’d never questioned the Marquess of Blandford’s willingness to wed his daughter to a stranger either.

“You can show yourself out, my lord?” she asked.

“Certainly, but I shall walk you to the manor.”

A hint of a smile settled on her lips. “We are in the manor.” She tipped her head toward the wall behind her, and Silas noticed a nearly invisible seam in the stone. “I’ll enter the house through the study.”

The Tetbery Estate apparently held many secrets; however, Silas could not help but wonder if Lady Mallory hid far more.

“I best return to the village as my brother will be arriving shortly.” He grasped the handrail but made no move to turn. “Have a joyous Christmastide holiday. I look forward to our nuptials in the spring.”

His heart stopped as he awaited her reply. He’d deceived her horribly, and she had every right to be angry with him. Continuing their betrothal was more than Silas deserved. But he was certain he wanted it.

“Of course, Silas,” she mumbled before turning and hurrying toward the hidden door.

He watched in utter shock as she pulled a cord, and the door sprang open.

When she glanced back at him as she fled the room, he noticed her smile.

His reckoning was coming, and Silas greatly anticipated the day.