Page 87 of His Wicked Charm

“Oh, yes, but we didn’t see much of him. He spent his days in his office. Or up in that room of his. He liked to walk the maze. Your father, now, didn’t like that maze, and it scared Miss Eva. That’s why he let it go to ruin after Sir Ambrose died.” She paused, then went on in a confiding voice, “It’s my opinion Sir Virgil didn’t like his father much either. The man was barely cold in the ground and the master had Sir Ambrose’s things packed away in trunks.”

“All of them?”

Cuddington tilted her head, thinking. “I’m not sure, miss. That was when Miss Eva was in the family way, and I paid more attention to her than anything else. Poor thing, she could scarcely keep down anything but toast and water. But I remember Sir Virgil clearing out his father’s room. He even did some of the packing himself.”

That was interesting. “What did my father do with the trunks?”

“Why, I don’t know, miss. The attic perhaps?”

“Ask Ruggins about those trunks, would you? I would like very much to look in them.”

“Yes, miss.” Cuddington twisted Lilah’s hair up and secured it in a casual knot. “There now. I’ll just go and draw the water for your bath.” She started to the door, then stopped and turned back. “You know, Miss Lilah, if you’re wanting to know more about your grandfather, Roberts might be of some help. He did everything for your father for years.”

“Yes, I remember him.”

“Before he was Sir Virgil’s man, he was a footman here. He would know a good deal about Sir Ambrose, as well.”

“He’s still here?”

“Not working in the house, but he has a cottage on the estate.” Cuddington’s blush returned. “Your father left him a bit of money and the cottage when he passed on, so Roberts retired.”

“Cuddington, you’re a jewel.” Lilah silently took back all the bad things she had said about her aunt’s maid—well, her maid now, apparently.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

LILAH HAD THOUGHT that she might feel a little awkward, even embarrassed, when she saw Con again at breakfast. But as it turned out, all she felt was a rush of happiness when she walked into the dining room, and he jumped up to greet her.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, and it took all her willpower to pull back. “Con, the door is open.”

“Devil take the door.” He reached for her waist.

“We must talk.” Lilah drew a shaky breath.

“Must we?” He lowered his head, tantalizingly close.

“Yes.” She infused her voice with as much determination as she could. “You said so yourself.”

Con heaved a dramatic sigh and turned away. “Very well.” He pulled out her chair and took his own seat again. “I have some questions about last night.” When Lilah arched her brows, his eyes twinkled. “Not about that. I think I have that down.”

“You want to talk about my problem.”

“About your gift,” he corrected firmly. “At that séance, the way you summoned this spirit—”

“I didn’t summon him. I had no conscious thought about him or anything else. It just swept into me. Much as I hate to admit it, I think you were right in what you said that day in the maze. I was a conduit for the energy. It went through me, but Aunt Vesta used it to summon him.”

“Did you feel that way in the maze? When I touched you?”

“I don’t know. I may have. I wasn’t paying attention to it at the time. I was...um, rather resistant.” She ignored Con’s snort. “What I felt in the maze with you certainly wasn’t the same feeling I had at the séance. I didn’t feel pushed.”

Con reached across the table and took her hand experimentally. Lilah tried to open herself to any sensation, but in fact all she felt was the same flutter of sensual excitement she did whenever Con touched her. She shook her head. “There’s nothing different. Just...”

His eyes darkened. “I know.” He cleared his throat and released her hand. “Perhaps I don’t feel anything unless you are actively using your ability. Let’s say this power comes from some source here, the house or whatever. And that energy flows into you and out into the other person. Maybe you felt it so strongly that night because your aunt has a great deal of power. Whereas my directional talent is a pretty mild thing.”

“It could be the opposite—if the person’s ability is stronger, he doesn’t need to pull as much from me, so it’s not as noticeable.”

“I wonder... That day when the women were kidnapped and Anna had such a vision, didn’t you take her hand? Do you suppose that was what made her vision so strong, so coherent?” He stuck his hands into his pockets and rose to pace about. “This is fascinating. When we get back to London, we need to research this.”

When we get back to London. As if they would be together. As if it were a given. But no, she wouldn’t think that way. No plans, no building castles in the air, no thinking about consequences. Only now, only here.