Page 39 of A Scandal at Stonecliffe

Nathan turned to see Sloane staring up at the hole far above their heads, and for the first time, he considered the predicament they were in. There was nothing handy to climb, for one could see only more ruins around them—a walkway paved in stone, a collapsed wall, a taller stone wall rising at the edge of the darkness, adorned with some sort of mosaic.

“I’ll be sure to bring a ladder for next time we fall through a floor.” Nathan climbed up the pile of rubble. At its highest, the unstable mound left many feet of space above his head. Not to mention the fact that the jumble of beams, dirt, and pieces of stone shifted precariously beneath his feet.

“Watch out,” Sloane told him sharply, and Nathan jumped back to the ground. Sloane gazed up at the hole in the tunnel again, then sighed. “If we get out of here, Annabeth is going to kill me.”

“Entertaining as that would be, it doesn’t seem there’s much chance of her getting to do so,” Nathan replied.

“No.” The two looked around, contemplating their situation.

“No one knows we’re down here, do they?” Nathan mused.

“Not a soul,” Sloane agreed. “I daresay there’s little hope of anyone happening to pass by and see us.”

“Since the only person we know who uses it is a criminal, I doubt they’d be much help, anyway.”

“We’ve no food or water,” Sloane continued the litany of their woes.

“No ladder or a rope.”

“Not to mention the rats and snakes that are probably lurking down here.”

“There must be some way out. We could try to move some of these blocks together here, build some sort of platform we could climb onto,” Nathan suggested. It was an unlikely hope, he knew—the stones were either too large and heavy to carry or broken into pieces that did not stack easily. But he had no other solution. He wasn’t about to admit that he and Sloane might very well be trapped here, unknown to the city above, for the rest of their suddenly abbreviated lives.

Sloane slanted a skeptical look Nathan’s way, but shrugged. “Then let’s get started.”

The two men shrugged out of their coats, rolled up their sleeves, and began to build.

VERITY’S WORK WENT off the next morning without a bobble. The artifact was taken safely to the museum, and her client was grateful. It had taken no more than an hour, which left her the rest of the day to spend with Nathan—rather, working on his case, of course.

When she arrived home, Verity found a note from Lady Lockwood inviting Verity to call on her in the afternoon. No doubt Lady Lockwood was hoping to find out more about Nathan’s purported half brother. Verity would have preferred not to go. She and Nathan had not made specific plans, but she had assumed they would work together. But with Annabeth’s grandmother, an invitation was, in actuality, a command.

Verity hoped Nathan would arrive at her house before she had to leave, but he did not. As her carriage took her to Lady Lockwood’s, worry began to nibble at Verity. It wasn’t like Nathan to do anything rash, but last night when that attacker had drawn her blood, there had been a certain look in Nathan’s eyes that in her experience with men usually preceded trouble.

Verity was shown into her ladyship’s drawing room. Lady Lockwood’s feisty pug jumped up and began to bark, though she didn’t make any move to attack. Verity and Petunia had come to a truce many months ago.

Lady Lockwood banged her cane on the floor, and Petunia subsided. Verity made a proper curtsey to Annabeth’s grandmother. “Lady Lockwood, I’m so pleased to see you again.”

“One would think you might have called on me before nigh onto a year had passed,” Lady Lockwood grumbled.

“I’m sorry.” Verity was taken aback. “I, um, didn’t realize that you would want—I mean, I was pretending to be Annabeth’s maid in your house.”

Lady Lockwood raised her eyebrows. “You aren’t now, are you? I understand you’re currently Mrs. Billingham, who has caught the eye of every bachelor in town.”

Only Verity’s years of spying kept her jaw from dropping. How did Annabeth’s grandmother manage to know everything? “I apologize. I did not see you at any of the parties I attended, or I would have—well, honestly, I probably would have fled for fear you would unmask me.”

Lady Lockwood let out a crack of laughter. “Nonsense. I always enjoy a good jest on the ton. Come in, sit down, girl, and chat with us.” She nodded toward the window seat across the room, where a very pregnant woman sat.

Verity’s eyes widened. “Annabeth! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you over there.”

“Ha! She’s hard to miss,” Lady Lockwood said.

“I know I am wide as a house, Grandmother,” Annabeth said mildly as she shoved up to her feet and walked toward Verity. “You needn’t point it out.” She smiled and reached to take Verity’s hand. “You can see why you haven’t seen me at any parties.”

“But how—I mean, when—” Verity’s customary aplomb had deserted her. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me.”

Annabeth laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m accustomed to the reaction. I’m truly not as far along as I appear. Sloane’s afraid I’m going to have twins.”

“It’s Sloane’s fault, he’s entirely too large,” Lady Lockwood decreed. “I have always maintained one should marry a small man.”