Page 81 of His Wicked Charm

“Pointed at Dearborn, you think?” Con grinned. “Sir Ambrose was certainly a dictatorial sort.”

“Don’t you dare say it runs in the family.” Lilah gave him a stern frown.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” With a wink, he turned back to his search.

The rest of the day proved fruitless, though they kept at it doggedly, breaking only for tea. Finally, Con sat down with a sigh and leaned back against the cabinet. “I think we have covered—or uncovered—every square inch of this room.”

“I think it’s safe to say there’s nothing else to be gleaned here.” Lilah sat down beside him.

“Where shall we look next?” Con asked. “We can’t afford to waste too much time.”

“Con, really, if you start talking about Mr. Dearborn’s calamity on Midsummer Day...”

“But doesn’t that seem more likely—less absurd, at least—now that we’ve found all this?” He waved his hand vaguely around the office. “Doesn’t it sound like what these fellows would have dreamed up—‘we meet and renew every three years or else the gods will curse us.’ Only with more thees and thou shalts.”

“Yes, it sounds precisely like them. And the important part of your sentence is dreamed up. They concocted this religion purely out of their imagination. It doesn’t make it real.” Lilah wasn’t about to admit that despite her words, she felt a strange tug of urgency deep inside her.

“Well, Dearborn and Sir Jasper are quite real—and one or the other, or both, is after the key. We must find it.”

“We’ve already searched my father’s room. There’s my grandfather’s office. I don’t know, Con. A key is such a small thing. It could be hidden anywhere.”

“We must also find the Sanctuary,” Con pointed out. “If we could see the door, we’d have a better idea what we’re looking for.”

“Yes, but we know even less about its location.”

“Let’s think about it.” Con leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “These men get together and prime the pump with a few glasses of port or brandy. Then they tromp off to this room, open it with their three keys and have a ceremony. Or perhaps they do the drinking there as part of the ceremony.”

“Perhaps we should look for their ‘silly hats.’”

“Oh, I think these were hooded robes kind of chaps.” Con opened his eyes. “How did they stumble upon this ‘Gateway’? It can’t be readily apparent or others would have found it. We have three young blades, stuck in the country, miles from entertainment. Even given your grandfather’s ill health and Blair’s preference for intellectual pursuits, they must have been inclined to have some fun, go adventuring.”

“Probably. You think that’s what they were doing when they found their sanctuary?”

“Yes. Where would they go around here for an adventure? A cave, perhaps?”

“There aren’t any nearby.”

“Some old ruins?”

“The barrow is miles away, and the Holy Well even farther.”

Con’s eyes lit up. “Ah, but there are some ruins right here, aren’t there?” He pointed downward. “Didn’t you say this part of the house was built on the ruins of an old castle?”

“The cellars!” Lilah brightened. “You’re right. That sounds exactly the thing to intrigue a group of young men.”

“Exactly. Dank, dark cells. Skeletons in chains. We should go down to the dungeons.”

“They aren’t dungeons. They’re just cellars...but I understand they are very extensive.”

“The cellars it is, then.” He stood up and offered her his hand.

“It’s too late to start now. That’s an all-day task.”

“You’re right. Much as it grieves me to be prudent, we’ll start tomorrow.”

* * *

CON TOOK UP his post by his door again that night. Lilah had not asked him to keep watch, and hopefully her remedy of locking her door would keep her from wandering, but he couldn’t just go to bed, knowing that she might put herself in danger.