Clandestine by Nichole van Page A

horse and knowing how to dine within the peerage. He could still hear his grandmother in her crisp, polished tones, You must never forget that we are third cousins to the Dukes of Devonshire on my grandfather’s side of the family.
    Perhaps a refresher on the British peerage wasn’t such a terrible idea. He needed more ammunition to help him stay in ‘character.’ And seeing how all in-depth sleuthing was denied him . . .
    Marc paused. “Right. Well then, show me the way to the library.”
     

     
    The library
    Haldon Manor
    A few minutes later on February 20, 1814
     
    Kit turned the page of the book. Again. Still not reading a single word. Concentration escaped her.
    Nestled sideways into cushions on a window seat with her back against the deep window embrasure, she sighed and stared sightlessly into the library. Or, at least, the sliver of the library she could see through the edge of the drawn window curtains.
    The library was one of her favorite rooms in the house, with floor-to-ceiling bookcases and dark wood lining nearly every surface. An immense fireplace dominated the left end of the room opposite the doorway. So large Kit and several of her friends could practically stand up in it. The fireplace recalled Haldon Manor’s beginnings as a Tudor estate when life was more communal. A cheery fire roared in it, sending seeping warmth through the room.
    Two overstuffed chairs crowded close to the fire, separated by a long sofa. A large console backed the sofa, sporting wide drawers along its length which were said to house the late Mr. James Knight’s impressive collection of maps.
    Quite frankly, it all reminded her of home. Her father loved rooms like this. He would have spent days closeted with the maps, dragging old tomes off the bookshelves and perusing them lingeringly.
    Kit’s throat tightened. She blinked fiercely several times.
    Now was not the time to think about her father. Even though it had been nearly a year, his death was still raw. He may not have been the most attentive of fathers, but he had loved her in his way and she still missed him.
    She pulled her feet under her, tucking them firmly out of sight with the rest of her. She liked this little corner of the library, sandwiched between the window hangings and the tall, paned window. It was always full of light, despite the dreary overcast skies outside. Best of all, it hid her from the rest of the room, particularly the doorway.
    That was crucial.
    Lady Ruby was taking one of her ‘restoratives’—which was what Ruby called a glass of brandy and a lengthy nap. Despite it not even being noon yet.
    The problem, of course, was Jedidiah. Ruby considered it a ‘restorative,’ but Jedidiah thought of it more as ‘open hunting season.’
    Fortunately, Jedediah Knight had a strong aversion to libraries—Kit supposed it was the possibility of accidentally learning—and so had yet to find her here.
    Granted, hiding in the library also meant no one else would find her.
    Particularly not the dashing man who had stopped her runaway horse.
    More’s the pity.
    Marc. She whispered his name. And then paused. Marc felt a little too familiar for a lady’s companion to call a visiting lord.
    Marcus, then. The same name that Linwood had mentioned to Arthur. Miss Emry’s brother. Who may or may not be a spy.
    Coincidence? Or subterfuge?
    And if subterfuge , it explained his reluctance to properly introduce himself.
    But he had retired early, and she had been unable to get another word from him on the matter. Or even a passing look.
    That said, Kit had found out from Fanny, the upstairs maid, who had it firsthand from the second footman, Gilbert, who had overheard the cook talking with the housekeeper about how the stranger had been accosted and had probably killed one of the robbers with his bare hands before being grievously wounded himself, left to stagger his way to Haldon Manor half dead (None of which made any sense with what the man, himself, had told