their own. The cupboard shadows would not be equal to concealing her against that much light. If she wished to avoid the humiliation of being caught lurking in the darkness, she needed to get behind the tapestry again before the rest of the gentlemen appeared.
Her fingers crept along the wall, seeking the edge of the fabric. Dr. Bergen paused with one foot on the bottom stair, his profile serene in the lamplight, his chest expanding as he pulled in a deep breath and released it again. His lips quirked.
"A rose by any other name..." His accented voice drifted back to her as he moved up the stairs on silent feet. "Goodnight, Miss Smith."
Elizabeth's trembling hands found the tapestry edge and she slid behind it. On watery legs she shuffled into position before the hole. How had the doctor known? Not once had he looked in her direction. She was certain of it.
Light danced from the hallway again. Lord Devlin came into the entry hall. Father Vlad and the duke followed close behind. They stopped in the circle of moonlight at the base of the stairs.
"This is wrong, Nicholas." Father Vlad sounded weary, as if he repeated an argument made too many times. "Marrying that girl will be a disaster."
"How can marrying a pretty young girl like that be a disaster?" The duke slapped the clergyman on the back. All signs of his earlier intoxication had vanished. He stood straight and strong, his speech no longer slurred, his movements those of a sober man. "The boy needs a wife. Tomorrow he'll have one. And," the duke addressed this last bit directly to his son, "within the year I'll expect a grandson and heir. Pretty little mare, so that should be no hardship, eh, Nickie?"
Elizabeth twitched her nose, as much from annoyance at being compared to a breeding horse as from the dust of the old fabric. Devlin nodded, but even in the flickering light Elizabeth could tell he wasn't really listening.
"It is wrong," the priest repeated. " Nedrept ." He lifted the hems of his black robes and started up the stairs. Marlbourne followed.
"Coming son?"
"Not just yet. I seem to have left something I need down here." Nicholas set his lamp on the flat top of a stair baluster, then blew it out. He stood in the pool of light from the transom and watched until the priest and his father had disappeared up the stairs. He was still looking upward when he spoke.
"You can come out now, Elizabeth." He pivoted on his heel, faced the tapestry and waited.
Elizabeth fumbled her way from behind the ancient fabric with as much dignity as she could muster and crossed the floor to stand before him in the pool of moonlight, her eyes downcast. Streaks and smudges marred her new dress. The fancy bun Katie had done her hair in dangled in a ball against the nape of her neck. She put a self-conscious hand up to pat what she could back in place. A fat black spider crawled across her hand and up her arm.
Elizabeth squealed. She flapped her arms and hopped about. The spider, having nearly reached her shoulder, clung on tenaciously. Devlin's hand shot out, capturing her wrist, holding it steady. With the other hand he brushed the spider away. The fat fellow dropped to the floor and scurried off into the darkness. Elizabeth shuddered with revulsion. Devlin released her.
She bent over double, shaking her head with such violence that the loose bun beat painfully against her cheeks. Frantic hands brushed at her dress.
"What are you doing?" The amusement in his voice only increased her agitation.
"There could be more!"
"Hold still." His hands were in her hair and she did her best to remain still. Though her hands, bent double as she was, continued to brush at the hem of her gown. What else might have crawled up under it?
"There," he said. Her hair released from the bun to fall in waves past her temples. "Stand up straight," he ordered. She did and suddenly it all felt strangely familiar: a spider, moonlight, her hair loose, Devlin's hands on her. Isn't this how it
Her fingers crept along the wall, seeking the edge of the fabric. Dr. Bergen paused with one foot on the bottom stair, his profile serene in the lamplight, his chest expanding as he pulled in a deep breath and released it again. His lips quirked.
"A rose by any other name..." His accented voice drifted back to her as he moved up the stairs on silent feet. "Goodnight, Miss Smith."
Elizabeth's trembling hands found the tapestry edge and she slid behind it. On watery legs she shuffled into position before the hole. How had the doctor known? Not once had he looked in her direction. She was certain of it.
Light danced from the hallway again. Lord Devlin came into the entry hall. Father Vlad and the duke followed close behind. They stopped in the circle of moonlight at the base of the stairs.
"This is wrong, Nicholas." Father Vlad sounded weary, as if he repeated an argument made too many times. "Marrying that girl will be a disaster."
"How can marrying a pretty young girl like that be a disaster?" The duke slapped the clergyman on the back. All signs of his earlier intoxication had vanished. He stood straight and strong, his speech no longer slurred, his movements those of a sober man. "The boy needs a wife. Tomorrow he'll have one. And," the duke addressed this last bit directly to his son, "within the year I'll expect a grandson and heir. Pretty little mare, so that should be no hardship, eh, Nickie?"
Elizabeth twitched her nose, as much from annoyance at being compared to a breeding horse as from the dust of the old fabric. Devlin nodded, but even in the flickering light Elizabeth could tell he wasn't really listening.
"It is wrong," the priest repeated. " Nedrept ." He lifted the hems of his black robes and started up the stairs. Marlbourne followed.
"Coming son?"
"Not just yet. I seem to have left something I need down here." Nicholas set his lamp on the flat top of a stair baluster, then blew it out. He stood in the pool of light from the transom and watched until the priest and his father had disappeared up the stairs. He was still looking upward when he spoke.
"You can come out now, Elizabeth." He pivoted on his heel, faced the tapestry and waited.
Elizabeth fumbled her way from behind the ancient fabric with as much dignity as she could muster and crossed the floor to stand before him in the pool of moonlight, her eyes downcast. Streaks and smudges marred her new dress. The fancy bun Katie had done her hair in dangled in a ball against the nape of her neck. She put a self-conscious hand up to pat what she could back in place. A fat black spider crawled across her hand and up her arm.
Elizabeth squealed. She flapped her arms and hopped about. The spider, having nearly reached her shoulder, clung on tenaciously. Devlin's hand shot out, capturing her wrist, holding it steady. With the other hand he brushed the spider away. The fat fellow dropped to the floor and scurried off into the darkness. Elizabeth shuddered with revulsion. Devlin released her.
She bent over double, shaking her head with such violence that the loose bun beat painfully against her cheeks. Frantic hands brushed at her dress.
"What are you doing?" The amusement in his voice only increased her agitation.
"There could be more!"
"Hold still." His hands were in her hair and she did her best to remain still. Though her hands, bent double as she was, continued to brush at the hem of her gown. What else might have crawled up under it?
"There," he said. Her hair released from the bun to fall in waves past her temples. "Stand up straight," he ordered. She did and suddenly it all felt strangely familiar: a spider, moonlight, her hair loose, Devlin's hands on her. Isn't this how it
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