Page List


Font:  

“Oh.”

“What?”

“I just recalled an acquaintance of my mother who had recently installed a safe in her floor.” Rising to her feet, Leonida hurried to the edge of the carpet and began tugging it upward. “Help me.”

Together the two of them managed to roll the carpet toward the center of the room, revealing a worn wooden floor beneath. A majority of the carpet was, of course, pinned down by the various furniture arranged about the room, but they managed to pull it aside far enough to reveal the barely visible outline of a trapdoor that came complete with a flat, brass handle.

“There it is,” Sophy breathed.

They both rushed forward and, bending down, Leonida tugged on the handle, only noticing the small keyhole drilled into the wood when the door refused to budge.

“Damn,” she muttered. “We need the key.”

Sophy muttered beneath her breath. “Well, it ain’t in here.”

Leonida straightened, her heart lodged in her throat. Over the past days she had searched through every room in Meadowland, including a brief rummage through Stefan’s chambers. A search that had created a strange mixture of horror at her intrusion into his privacy and an undeniable fascination with studying his most intimate possessions.

“I suspect I know where it is,” she whispered, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Where?”

“Come with me.” Taking Sophy’s hand, she led her from the room and down the long corridor. “I need you to keep watch.”

“Of course,” Sophy agreed, only to suck in a dismayed gasp as Leonida halted before the door to Stefan’s rooms. “Oh lord.”

“Remain here and warn me if someone approaches,” Leonida commanded.

“This is a very bad notion.”

Leonida battled back a hysterical urge to giggle. Her entire journey to England had been nothing more than a very bad notion.

“I agree, Sophy, but I must do this.”

Sophy heaved a sigh. “I suppose.”

“I will be as quick as possible. Stay here.”

Wiping her clammy hands on her skirt, Leonida forced herself to push open the nearby door and step inside.

As on the first occasion she had entered, she was struck by the sheer masculinity of the room. The furniture was made of heavy English oak and furbished in a pale ocher satin with heavy green velvet curtains. On the walls were a stunning collection of Van Dykes and near the towering window was a floor-to-ceiling bookcase that was enclosed in glass to protect the priceless first edition books.

She shivered as the scent of Stefan teased at her nose, reminding her of the feel of his slender fingers stroking over her skin and the taste of his lips against her mouth. With a shake of her head, she thrust aside the distracting thoughts and headed directly for the desk that was nearly hidden beneath stacks of farming manuals and leather-bound ledgers.

She would have years to recall Stefan and the searing sensations he had stirred to life. Now was not the time to be indulging in fantasies.

Without hesitation, she tugged open the top drawer and pulled out the large ring of keys she had noted during her first search of the room. Surely one of them had to fit the lock?

Shutting the drawer, she hurried out of the room and leaned close to Sophy to whisper in her ear.

“Remain here and watch the stairs,” she ordered softly.

Not giving her maid the opportunity to protest, Leonida picked up the hem of her skirt and dashed back down the hall. Entering the Duchess’s bedchamber, she crossed directly to the trapdoor and with shaking fingers began attempting to fit the various keys into the lock.

Her rasping breath filled the still air, along with the rattle of metal keys as she slid one and then another into the lock. She had gone through near a dozen before she at last heard a distinctive click, and with her heart lodged in her throat, she pulled the trapdoor open.

Licking her dry lips, she peered into the small, square space, at first unable to see anything beyond the leather-bound diary covered in dust. Leonida reached to carefully set it aside along with a pearl-studded box that held painted miniatures of a variety of handsome young gentlemen. No doubt gifts from long ago beaus who had

been relegated to fond memories by the Duchess. Pulling out the box, she sucked in a sharp breath as she caught sight of the bundle of letters tied with a pink ribbon hidden beneath.


Tags: Rosemary Rogers Russian Connection Historical