Deborah Simmons - The Dark Viscount

Muttering to herself at the habits of men, Sydony gathered them together, lest they become mixed in with the stacks of old receipts and miscellany that were already crowding the secretary. Then she snatched up the ring and headed back up the staircase, nearly running into Barto, who was descending, elegant as always—thanks to his valet, no doubt.

Thanks were surely due someone, Sydony thought, for Barto was a sight to behold. He didn’t dress like some of the peacocks she had seen on her rare visits to London, but with an understated sophistication that made him look…well, beautiful. For some reason, Sydony’s pulse started pounding at that revelation, but the mocking lift of one of his dark brows quickly brought it back to normal.

‘Pardon me,’ Sydony said as she hurried past him. Better she be obsessed with the maze than her old neighbour, no matter how handsome he had become. Pushing Barto firmly from her mind, Sydony reached the door on the first floor and tried the new set of keys, her excitement growing with each attempt. But, just like yesterday, none of those on the ring worked the lock. In disbelief, Sydony went through each another time, to no avail.

Thwarted once more, she could do nothing except return to the dining hall, where Barto had joined her brother. His greeting at her entrance was perfunctory, and again, she wondered just why he was here. Perhaps he would leave today, Sydony thought with a mixture of pleasure and vague disappointment. If she were disappointed, she told herself, it was only because the reasons for his visit would remain a mystery.

As she filled her plate, Sydony considered the possibility that he might be hiding from someone—a pack of creditors, perhaps. The new viscount might have amassed gambling debts from his forays to London, and who would look for him here?

This new theory made him seem the villain of her nightmares, and she studied him closely as she took her seat. Would he lift a finger to aid her, if needed? Thankfully, she would never be in a position to find out.

A sharp glance from the subject of her scrutiny made Sydony lift her fork and turn to Kit. ‘I shall require your man today.’

‘Sorry, but you can’t have him,’ Kit said as he stood to fill another plate. ‘I’m setting him about repairing some loose boards in the library. It looks as though someone tore up the floor at some point.’

‘What?’

Kit shrugged, as if to admit that nothing about Oakfield Manor made sense.

‘But I was hoping to get those shutters taken down,’ Sydony protested.

A look from Kit told her he did not deem her fascination with the rear of the property as important as a dangerous stretch of flooring. He was right, of course, and yet Sydony felt a growing urgency to investigate the maze. Perhaps she ought to just go out there and try to wind her way through it? Excitement surged through her at the thought, but one glance at the windows, where a steady rain beat against the panes, made her change her mind.

‘None of the keys will open the locked door on the upper story, so I cannot get up there,’ she complained.

‘Perhaps the battlements are closed off for some reason,’ Kit said.

‘Mr Sparrowhawk said nothing of it.’

Kit snorted. ‘The man said nothing of anything unless Barto wormed it out of him.’

‘Since we did not go up there during our inspection of the house, maybe you should contact him,’ Barto said. ‘It could be dangerous.’

Sydony frowned. No doubt he was too sophisticated to share her interest in a mere garden maze.

‘You mean that someone might have fallen from the roof? That could give rise to your ill rumours about the house. You know how accidents make people nervous,’ Kit said.

‘The battlements might be crumbling, but, no, I don’t think that’s the sort of thing that would cause such talk,’ Barto said.

‘Well, I’d send a note round to Sparrowhawk, if I could spare my man. I wish he would send more prospects out here. I must have a groomsman. Perhaps I’ll ride into the village later.’

‘Don’t bother. I’ll send one of my men with a note,’ Barto said, and Kit nodded in gratitude.

‘Surely the floor won’t take all day. Perhaps he can help me with a few of the shutters when you are finished,’ Sydony said.

Kit shook his head. ‘Your obsession will have to wait, Syd.’

Sydony could not blame him. Still, she felt a sharp sense of disappointment. Perhaps it would clear off later, enough for her to…

‘May I be of service to you?’

Sydony’s head jerked at the sound of Barto’s voice, so smooth, so deep and so unexpected. Her pulse pounded again, inexplicably, as she realised just what he had said. ‘I beg you pardon?’

‘The shutters. Can I help you with them?’

Sydony smiled at the thought of the elegant nobleman toiling like a commoner. ‘Well, perhaps you could volunteer another one of your groomsmen, as it will involve some labour.’

Barto lifted one dark brow in mocking question. The man was insufferable, Sydony decided. ‘But if you are intent upon doing it yourself, you will need some tool to pry them open, for they are all nailed shut.’ Although she expected him to demure, once again, Barto surprised her.

‘I’m sure I can find something to use,’ he said. The dark look he sent her was a challenge, and one Sydony remembered well from her childhood. In those days, she would have returned his bold gaze, rising to whatever dare he put to her.

But now she shivered, her pulse racing once again. Although she nodded in agreement, Sydony refused to meet his eyes, fearful not only of what she might find there, but of her own response.

Sydony led Barto into one of the bedrooms at the rear of the house with a decided lack of enthusiasm. She was anxious to see the maze, of course, but she would prefer not to be beholden to her guest. The prospect made her uncomfortable, as did extended time alone with her former neighbour.

‘Look,’ she said, pointing to the windows. ‘They are all shut and nailed, as well.’

‘I can see that,’ Barto answered, in a dry tone. ‘But I think I can manage them.’

Sydony recognised the sarcasm, so she waited expectantly. But instead of moving towards the window, Barto set down the heavy pry bar that the workman had provided. ‘You don’t have to stay. I imagine you have other matters that require your attention,’ he said.

Sydony’s eyes narrowed. Was her company repugnant, or did he think to escape an onerous duty as soon as her back was turned? Would he make his valet do the chore? Although just a few minutes before she had dreaded being here with him, now Sydony felt compelled to remain, if only to see the job done.

‘Yes, I do have much to occupy me, but I am too curious as to the outcome here,’ she said, in a dry tone of her own.

One of Barto’s dark brows shot up, and the set of that gorgeous mouth told her he wasn’t pleased. Then why had he volunteered? The man and his motives were a complete mystery to her. He turned away, and, for a moment, she thought he was going to quit before starting. Instead, he began shrugging out of his dark blue morning coat.

‘Excuse me,’ he said, stiffly, ‘but Thompson will have my head if I ruin the material.’

Automatically, Sydony stepped behind to assist him, as she would Kit, but the elegant garment was more fitted and Barto suddenly seemed taller than her brother. Moving nearer, she drew a deep breath that filled her head with Barto’s unique scent and made her lose her grasp. She tried again, pulling the material off wide shoulders and away from a torso that was different from her brother’s. When had Barto grown so hard and muscular?

Sydony found herself staring at his back, and she stepped away, taking the coat with her. But when Barto turned around, her attention was caught by his chest, encased in a subtly designed waistcoat. Lest she stare again, Sydony forced herself to look past his elegantly tied cravat to his face, but his dark gaze captured hers with a ferocity she had never seen before. Breathless and witless, she felt like a stranger facing a stranger, her will no longer her own. That alarming thought jolted her from her trance, and she turned to hide her confusion.