Deborah Simmons - The Dark Viscount

Laying the expensive material over the back of a chair, Sydony smoothed it several times as she tried to regain her composure. What had just happened? Only a lifetime of refusing to back down made her turn around, her heart pounding so loudly she suspected Barto might hear it. Although she was relieved to see that he had started his task, the atmosphere had changed. No longer was he a former friend from her childhood, but some new and frightening creature, capable of affecting her in ways she’d never thought possible.

Skittish now, Sydony wondered if she should leave. She realised that she was alone in a bedroom with a man in his shirt sleeves, and there was no servant even within shouting distance. Not that she expected Barto to attack her, she thought, stifling a hysterical giggle. The very thought was absurd, and yet she had no idea what had just passed between them.

Sydony glanced nervously in his direction as he pried at the shutters with apparent ease. When had he become so strong? She remembered a scrawny boy with a tangle of brown hair, but now his hair was dark and sleek, as was Barto himself. Wary of eyeing him too closely, Sydony occupied herself with walking about the room, removing dust covers and inspecting the contents of a tall dresser, until she heard him speak.

‘I don’t think you’ll be able to salvage these,’ he said, and Sydony turned to see the expanse of glass revealed by his labours. The old window was dirty, and she hurried to wipe at it, resisting a temptation to call the maid from her duties. Although the panes needed proper cleaning, Sydony still could see through them since the rain had stopped. She looked eagerly below, where a mass of greenery caught her eye. It was much larger than she imagined, and, despite being overgrown, there was a definite pattern.

‘There it is!’ Sydony whispered. Filled with excitement, she grabbed Barto’s arm, as she might have years ago, and pointed with her other hand.

‘What?’ he asked, as though startled by her enthusiasm.

Sydony glanced up at him in surprise. Had no one mentioned the hedges? She opened her mouth to explain, but the flicker of interest on Barto’s usually impassive face told her that he had seen it, too.

‘A maze,’ he murmured, and they shared a moment of wonder that made Sydony forget her earlier discomfiture.

‘You’d need a scythe to get through some of the passages,’ Barto said softly.

He was probably right. The hedges were so thick in spots Sydony could not easily discern the path, a twisty, tangled route that made her shiver. ‘But there’s certainly no mistaking the centre,’ she said, awed by the huge tree, obviously ancient, that stood like a sentinel in the middle, its branches spreading out over the surrounding plantings.

‘It’s too wet to go out there now,’ Barto said.

‘Yes,’ Sydony answered. She glanced up at the man standing beside her, and for a moment the years fell away. They shared a look from their past, one that promised adventure and daring, right here in her own garden.

‘Well?’

The sound of Kit’s voice jarred Sydony, and she realised she was standing far too close to Barto. She was still clutching his arm, too. Releasing her hold, she stepped back, just as Barto did, and turned, unaccountably flustered, to face her brother.

‘Can you see it?’ Kit asked. His open expression gave no hint of anything except curiosity.

‘We can,’ Barto said. The tone of his voice made Sydony glance at him, and she realised that whatever had passed between them was gone. His face once again looked impassive—cold, even—and she felt a sharp stab of disappointment.

‘Duece, it’s huge,’ Kit said, moving between them to look out over the lawn.

‘And dangerous. You wouldn’t want to get lost in there,’ Barto said, just as though he hadn’t been tempted to brave it.

‘Yes! Don’t go investigating by yourself, Syd,’ Kit warned.

Sydony frowned. ‘Well, you’re not going without me,’ she said, in an echo of her youthful protests.

Kit laughed. ‘No, we should all go, to try to map it out. But we’ll probably need an army of gardeners to trim the hedges, or we’ll be scratched to death.’

Her brother’s choice of words made Sydony shiver, and the maze that had seemed so intriguing took on a threatening aspect. It was only the gloom of the weather, Sydony told herself as she peered out into the mist. Although the rain had stopped, the trees still dripped, and the constant wind made it appear as if there were movement among the greenery. In fact, Sydony could swear she saw something black in the dark hedges as she squinted through the dirty glass.

‘Syd!’

Reluctantly, Sydony turned away from the panes toward Kit, who must have been speaking to her. But instead of looking exasperated, he wore an expression of suppressed excitement. ‘Come away from the window. I want you both to see what our man found in the library.’

Although Kit was keyed up about something, Sydony was loath to leave the labyrinth she had waited so long to view. Perhaps she could try to put the pattern on to a sheet of paper…But Kit was already heading toward the door, and Sydony watched as Barto snatched up his coat and shrugged into it without breaking his stride. Obviously eager to follow Kit from the room, he disappeared without a backwards glance.

The moment they had shared definitely was gone. In fact, Sydony wondered if she hadn’t imagined it.

Barto moved alongside Kit, intent upon putting some space between himself and Sydony Marchant. He blamed the close quarters for the heat he had imagined between them. She had made her animosity clear since his arrival, and his sudden, unexpected hunger when she removed his coat was no more than a typical male reaction. No doubt, he had gone without a woman for too long, but he hadn’t the heart for it since his father’s death and everything that followed.

With that sharp reminder of his purpose, Barto dismissed all thoughts of Sydony from his mind. She might have grown into a beauty, but he was not here for a dalliance. He had too many questions, and even if the Mar-chants were not involved in the answers, he had no intention of seducing a gently bred female whom his mother had asked about.

Keeping his countenance, as well as his unwelcome urges, under rigid control, Barto followed Kit into one of the lower rooms. It was deserted except for the workman who stood near the doorway, wearing an odd expression. As Barto passed by, he gave the fellow a sharp glance. Though the man kept his face downcast, it was almost as if he were terrified. Had something startled him, or was he simply as queer as Dick’s hatband? Barto didn’t think much of Sparrowhawk’s hires. But was it the fault of the solicitor, or was something deeper at work?

When Barto moved into the room he could see some unusual ruptures in the floor, which went beyond the ravages of time. Indeed, the wood was torn in places, and, upon inspection, appeared not to be the result of accidents or animals, but of a pry bar.

‘I wanted to make sure that there weren’t any other bad spots while we were repairing in here,’ Kit explained. ‘So I had our man Newton there pull up the carpet.’ He gave a nod towards the man who still stood near the doorway, as though held there by no will of his own.

Scanning the space, Barto saw that the crates and furniture in the room had been pushed to the side, so that a large, worn rug that had covered one section of the floor could be rolled up. Beneath it was an expanse of wood that differed little from the rest of the planks, except for one small area where the secretary had stood.

‘What is it?’ Barto asked. At first glance, there appeared to be cuts in the flooring, perhaps where planks had been replaced. But when he stepped closer, Barto saw the marks were actually grooves in the wood.