Mr.
Vale opened the nearest door, pushed Venya inside, and followed her in.
It was a very small closet.
They had to stand close together, surrounded by shelves packed tightly with tablecloths, dish towels, and other linens.
The narrow gap between the doors let in bright light from the corridor, casting a sharp line across his face.
The voices outside came closer.
Instinctively, she tried to make herself as small as possible and closed her eyes.
Maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through her veins, maybe the alcohol, but the world spun around her.
To steady herself, she rested her head against his chest and caught a hint of mixed spices on him.
Venya couldn’t remember the last time she had been this close to a man.
A memory of a similar moment with her husband after their wedding flashed through her mind, but it instantly turned her cold, sending an uncontrollable shiver through her body.
Even a year after their divorce, the bastard had this effect on her.
“Don’t move,” he whispered in her ear and placed his hands on her shoulders.
The slow, even beat of his pulse beneath her ear calmed her.
His warmth seeped into her, making her realize how cold she had been.
When the chatter of the servants faded, he opened the closet door and took her hand in his.
The way to the stairs was clear.
Before anyone showed up, they hurried upstairs only to stop a few steps from the top.
Someone was standing on the landing above.
Mr.
Vale released her hand and stepped in front of her, blocking her view of whoever was there.
“Mr.
Vale?” It was a woman’s voice.
She tried to step around him, but his long arm was in her way.
Peering past him, she recognized Betty, who had brought their food to them in the study.
“Where are you taking Miss Summerhay’s maid?
If you need help, I can inform housekeeper Jonner,” Betty said, holding a stack of towels in her hand.
“Thanks, Betty.
No need to inform old Jonner.” Was Mr.
Vale a regular guest or a family friend of the Thornwicks?
He seemed to know everyone at the mansion.
“Actually, there is something you could do for me, Betty.” The man’s voice changed subtly, becoming warmer.
“Stay here,” he said and went up the stairs to Betty.
Venya couldn’t hear what Mr.
Vale murmured to the maid.
Her dark, almost black hair was tied into a bun at the nape of her neck.
She had charming dark eyes, and her clear, pale cheeks flushed slightly in response to whatever the man had said to her.
“All right.
I’ll stand guard here.
Be quick,” Betty said, waving to them to hurry.
“This is his room,” she said, recognizing its location from the map.
The door was a heavy, carved wooden door, similar to the one leading to the study.
“And he’s not your boyfriend?” he teased as he opened the door.
“Ladies first.” Once they were inside, Venya took the note she had slipped into her pocket before leaving the study.
She folded it into a smaller square and placed it between her lips as she pulled the intricate box out of her pocket.
She turned her back to the man, trying to hide its contents, and placed the folded note inside.
A glint flashed in his eyes and vanished almost at once.
Had he seen the bracelet?
She looked around the room.
No wonder Rive had thought all the things he had brought her were worn and old.
Everything in his room gleamed and looked expensive.
She didn’t want to touch anything in case she broke something.
She couldn’t break the pillow, right?
She walked over to the bed and tucked it under his pillow.
“A servant could find your love token there,” Mr.
Vale pointed out.
“It’s not a love token.
Will you stop?” Venya glared at him, trying to kill the insufferable man.
“Fine.
Whatever it is…” He pulled open a drawer of the boy’s writing desk.
“He’ll find it here, and no servant will open this.” She took the box out from under the pillow and placed it into the drawer.
They left the room and walked to the stairs where Betty was waiting for them.
The way back was uneventful.
Betty led the way, checking the corners and corridors ahead.
The sound of laughter, lively conversation and music grew louder with each step.
The man was lethal and unkind, but at the same time, he was helpful and… even kind.
Huh.
Her thoughts were tying themselves in knots.
Yes, he had threatened her with a dagger like he was Ezio Auditore, but he had let her go, even helped her return the box to Rive’s room.
Was she being ungrateful?
She needed to thank him before they reached the reception hall and parted ways, most likely never to see each other again.
“Thank you, Mr.
Vale,” she said, her voice meek.
Before he answered, he drew her into a dark corner and braced one hand against the wall beside her.
“Do you understand what would have happened if the lord had caught you?” he said in a serious tone, his jaw tightening.
“I do.
That’s why I…” “Don’t ever sneak in here again, Melia.
Don’t even come near the mansion.” “I won’t.” “Promise me, Melia,” he demanded.
In the dim light, shadows gathered beneath his eyes, and his eyelids drooped.
Their eyes met, and for a moment, she saw him in a way she hadn’t before.
She held up two fingers as she made her solemn vow.
“I promise.” “Good.
You should go.
Miss Summerhay must be worried.” Before Venya could respond, a man’s voice came from behind them.
“Well, well, well.
Who is harassing the little maid?” They turned to find Mr.
Whitlock standing there.
Talia Summerhay was approaching a few steps behind him.
“Sarah!
And Mr… whoever you are.
Let her go!” she shouted.
“Magistrate Whitlock, do something!” Mr.
Vale backed off and raised his hands.
“Mr.
Magistrate.
Miss Summerhay.” He nodded politely to them both.
“You should be careful with your accusations, young miss,” Mr.
Vale said to Talia.
Then he turned to Venya with his eyebrows raised.
“Why don’t you clear my name, Sarah?
Was I harassing you, Sarah?” She shook her head, much to Mr.
Vale’s relief.
She had to play mute for the magistrate.
Heck, this wasn’t how she had expected this to go.
“Sarah!
I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Talia took Venya’s hands.
“Are you all right?
What happened here?” It was difficult to explain when she couldn’t talk.
She pointed to her eyes and mimed him removing something from her eye.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a thousand questions in Mr.
Vale’s gaze.
“Then I must apologize to you.
Mr…?” Talia said to Mr.
Vale.
“Vale.” “Mr.
Vale, please forgive me.” Talia released Venya’s hands and curtsied to him, lowering her gaze.
“We are leaving,” she said to Venya.
Venya plastered on her brightest smile and sank into as perfect a curtsy as she could manage.
Then she gave the magistrate a shallower curtsy.
He was, after all, a sleaze.
“Let me escort you both to your carriage,” the magistrate said and bowed to each woman.
“Thank you.
We would be pleased to accept your offer.” The magistrate offered Talia his arm, which she took elegantly, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
As they walked away, the magistrate glanced at Venya over his shoulder.
“Sarah, aren’t you coming?” he asked, looking at her with a glint in his eyes.
Her smile at the man vanished the moment he looked away.
He was such a two-faced scumbag.
Then she hurried after them.
* At the Lovely Rose Inn, Hart finally stretched out on his bed.
The evening was still young.
Normally, he would have headed downstairs to the public room to have supper or gone through his papers.
He kneaded the back of his neck with both hands.
A yawn escaped him.
He closed his eyes and turned on his side.
He should be sleeping.
There would be more traveling tomorrow when he left Tinyspring.
He had already been here far too long.
He couldn’t leave his business unattended much longer, even if he fully trusted his staff.
He rolled onto his other side.
A pair of furious green eyes kept intruding on his thoughts.
Hart had thought the glare she had aimed at him was murderous.
He had been wrong.
The look she had given the magistrate was the real thing.
There had been nothing youthful in her eyes then.
This wouldn’t do.
He sat up and went to the writing desk.
He opened a box containing his correspondence and began answering letters.
After a few hours of work, he returned to bed, calm enough to sleep.
When his eyes drifted shut, he remembered that he still had to fetch the message from the abandoned inn before leaving.
The last time he had checked the old inn, he had realized someone had been staying there.
The message was well hidden in a secret compartment beneath the floorboards of one of the rooms.
He was confident the message remained undiscovered.
Still, the safest course was to have his informant choose an entirely new drop-off location.
The stranger had, after all, slept in that very room.
He had seen the stranger only briefly in the dim room.
A slight figure, unmistakably a woman.
She had looked remarkably like… like that… woman he had caught in the lord’s study.