DOOR BE BROKEN?” MOUNT- joy took the bit of metal she handed him in answer. While he examined it, Miss Wellstone tried again to open the door.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said. The metal had sheared clean off, leaving only the brass plate affixed to the door. He looked up when she let out a frustrated huff. “What?”
“I am unable to open the door.”
His first inkling of disaster hit. He clutched the broken doorknob. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, my dear Duke,” Miss Wellstone said a bit too evenly, “that when Ginny left, she closed the door, and with the knob no longer attached, there is no way to open it.”
“Allow me.” Mountjoy dropped the doorknob into his pocket and examined the faceplate. The metal was smooth except where the knob had been attached, and only the smallest bits of twisted metal remained behind. She was right. Without the broken-off knob, there would be no easy way to pull the door open.
“My hands are smaller than yours. Perhaps I can grasp a bit of the metal.” She stripped off her gloves, and he took them from her while she bent to the door. Her tongue appeared at the corner of her mouth.
“Caution, Wellstone. It’s sharp.”
“Thank you for that reminder of the obvious.” She arranged her fingers over the spot where the knob had been attached and pulled. The door moved forward an infinitesimal amount, then her fingers slipped. “Drat.”
Mountjoy didn’t think anything except that she had failed to open the door until she hissed and caught her left hand in her right. Blood welled between her fingers. “You’ve hurt yourself.”
“It’s nothing.” She looked at him, eyes wide, features so impossibly delicate, now ashen because she had hurt herself and was trying to hide it. His chest tightened.
“It’s not nothing.” He reached for her hand. “How bad is it?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Let me see.” He caught her injured hand in his. The moment she released her grip on her fingers, blood flowed even faster from a cut along the side and across the pad of her index finger, covering her skin in brilliant red. He pulled out his handkerchief and wrapped it around her fingers. Blood soaked through almost immediately. “I ought not have let you near the door.”
“I am an experienced door opener, I’ll have you know.”
He glared at the door. There were other reasons to get them out of here as quickly as possible, but her injury was the most pressing at the moment. “Do you see the key anywhere? I might be able to use that as a lever to pull the door forward enough to open it.”
“Brilliant idea.”
The key, however, was nowhere by the door, and they both looked.
Mountjoy scowled. “If it fell from the lock, I’m dashed if I can see where it landed.”
“Do you suppose it could be in a drawer somewhere?”
If they weren’t able to open the door in the next five minutes, he was going to have to call for help with all the unpleasant ramifications that such a public action entailed. Jesus, the house was full of people. And that prig Fenris, who probably already thought the worst of Lily, would have his prejudices confirmed. Should they be discovered alone, in a room that had been closed against intruders, scandal would be the inevitable result. At least he liked her well enough. More than well enough. He got on well with Lily. If it came to that.
If.
“Why,” he said with more tartness than was required, “would someone put the key anywhere but in the door?”
“Look around you, your grace, what do you see?”
He was helpless to act except in a way that would not please either of them, and he was not a man prone to helplessness in anything. “Furniture. A window. An average room.”
“Are you blind?” She winced and brought her hand closer to her body. “The room is maroon, sir.”
“What’s that to do with
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said. The metal had sheared clean off, leaving only the brass plate affixed to the door. He looked up when she let out a frustrated huff. “What?”
“I am unable to open the door.”
His first inkling of disaster hit. He clutched the broken doorknob. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, my dear Duke,” Miss Wellstone said a bit too evenly, “that when Ginny left, she closed the door, and with the knob no longer attached, there is no way to open it.”
“Allow me.” Mountjoy dropped the doorknob into his pocket and examined the faceplate. The metal was smooth except where the knob had been attached, and only the smallest bits of twisted metal remained behind. She was right. Without the broken-off knob, there would be no easy way to pull the door open.
“My hands are smaller than yours. Perhaps I can grasp a bit of the metal.” She stripped off her gloves, and he took them from her while she bent to the door. Her tongue appeared at the corner of her mouth.
“Caution, Wellstone. It’s sharp.”
“Thank you for that reminder of the obvious.” She arranged her fingers over the spot where the knob had been attached and pulled. The door moved forward an infinitesimal amount, then her fingers slipped. “Drat.”
Mountjoy didn’t think anything except that she had failed to open the door until she hissed and caught her left hand in her right. Blood welled between her fingers. “You’ve hurt yourself.”
“It’s nothing.” She looked at him, eyes wide, features so impossibly delicate, now ashen because she had hurt herself and was trying to hide it. His chest tightened.
“It’s not nothing.” He reached for her hand. “How bad is it?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Let me see.” He caught her injured hand in his. The moment she released her grip on her fingers, blood flowed even faster from a cut along the side and across the pad of her index finger, covering her skin in brilliant red. He pulled out his handkerchief and wrapped it around her fingers. Blood soaked through almost immediately. “I ought not have let you near the door.”
“I am an experienced door opener, I’ll have you know.”
He glared at the door. There were other reasons to get them out of here as quickly as possible, but her injury was the most pressing at the moment. “Do you see the key anywhere? I might be able to use that as a lever to pull the door forward enough to open it.”
“Brilliant idea.”
The key, however, was nowhere by the door, and they both looked.
Mountjoy scowled. “If it fell from the lock, I’m dashed if I can see where it landed.”
“Do you suppose it could be in a drawer somewhere?”
If they weren’t able to open the door in the next five minutes, he was going to have to call for help with all the unpleasant ramifications that such a public action entailed. Jesus, the house was full of people. And that prig Fenris, who probably already thought the worst of Lily, would have his prejudices confirmed. Should they be discovered alone, in a room that had been closed against intruders, scandal would be the inevitable result. At least he liked her well enough. More than well enough. He got on well with Lily. If it came to that.
If.
“Why,” he said with more tartness than was required, “would someone put the key anywhere but in the door?”
“Look around you, your grace, what do you see?”
He was helpless to act except in a way that would not please either of them, and he was not a man prone to helplessness in anything. “Furniture. A window. An average room.”
“Are you blind?” She winced and brought her hand closer to her body. “The room is maroon, sir.”
“What’s that to do with
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