Page 49 of The Lady Glass
He took sympathy on her and brought the subject to safer ground. “Now that you trust me, you can tell me why the vase means so much to you?”
She hesitated, making him question his assumption. But hersilence lasted only a few seconds before she answered. “The master craftsman who made it... he was my father. The vase is my dowry.”
“Theresia... I had no idea.” If she was living a Roma life, then the vase was everything to her future, but Rolland had not guessed the personal connection. He now understood why she would not want anyone to know her real name. A good thief would know the name of the craftsman and the estimated worth of his art. Once the thief learned Theresia was the craftsman’s daughter, the vase would certainly disappear, if it hadn’t already. Not to mention it could endanger her if they thought she was aware of the thief’s crimes. Rolland’s resolve solidified. “I’m going to help you find it.”
She lowered her head. “I know.”
He wouldn’t pry for more, knowing her sharing this much must have cost her. Instead he guided her out into the corridor. A very vacant corridor. “Which way did our tour guide go?”
“Drat! Her Grace organized this tour for me, and I felt compelled to take advantage of the opportunity.” Theresia must’ve forgotten to keep her distance because she slumped against his arm. “You win.”
“What did I win?” Surely not the kind of prize he wished for.
She sighed. “The satisfaction of being right. Again. I shouldn’t have stalled like I did. And I was actually looking forward to seeing more of the house.”
“For searching it or out of genuine curiosity?”
She glared at him. “Both.” She slid her smile back into place—a practiced smile from one used to life foiling her plans. “It’s of no matter. It’s my own fault I can’t simply let myself enjoy the moment. I’ll see if I cannot seek out Mr. Stewart, whom I am sorry to say has not a trace of any French in his accent. However, he’s beginning to trust me, and I might be able to at least eke out more clues for us.”
Mr. Stewart again. Well, that man could wait. This tour wasn’t over yet. “My guess is that they backtracked to the entrance hall toward the stairs. Shall we take a shortcut to catch up with them?”
“The servants’ stairs?”
“It’s a secret.” The strategy forming in Rolland’s mind was out of character, but one look at her determination to put her disappointment behind her, and he knew he had to intervene. Her burdens were heavy and not as easily dismissed as she pretended them to be. He was responsible for her, and despite all his self-imposed lectures, he had to do something. She ought to have some joy, and why couldn’t he be the one to bring it to her while he could? She’d painted a bleak picture of her life thus far, and if she wanted to see the house, he was going to show it to her.
“Secret? Wait. No! You don’t mean a secret passage, do you? Do those truly exist? And there is onehere?” Theresia’s eyes grew as round as saucers, much like those of a child on Twelfth Night. “Oh, can we?”
He made a show of impatience, tipping his head back and groaning at the ceiling. “The things I do to cheer you up.”
Chapter 23
Their steps echoed in thecavernous corridor. Theresia had heard stories about castles with secret passages or tunnels beneath them, but seeing one might be the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her.
“Is it long or short?” she asked Rolland. “Do we need a lantern?”
He turned and held a finger to her mouth. “Not even the servants are privy to this, so you mustn’t let anyone hear you.”
He pulled back slowly, but she was momentarily distracted by the lingering feel of his touch on her lips. “How is it that you know what no one else does?”
His answer was just above a whisper. “I met Marcus in his first year at Oxford. We became fast friends. He invited me here and showed me the passage.”
“I wondered about your history. Have you been friends with Mr. Lewis for just as long?”
“We met him the next year, actually. I’m not sure even he knows this particular secret. You can hold it over him later. It will be the worst sort of torture for him.”
She smiled. “But will His Grace be disappointed that I know about it?”
Rolland denied it with a quick shake of his head. “I will take full responsibility.”
She stared up at him. Why would he show her if it might upset his friend? “I don’t want you to risk your friendship.”
He gave her a half smile. “Marcus will likely slap me on the back and tell me well done.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t think too hard on it.” They stopped in front of a dark-colored tapestry, and Rolland searched the corridors with his eyes. The coast clear, he took her hand and pulled her behind theheavy wall hanging. She couldn’t see what he was doing in front of her, nor did she try to since her mind was still reeling over his warm hand on her own. Seconds later the tapestry fell back to the wall, and she was pulled into blackness.
“Are you certain we won’t get in trouble for being in here?” she whispered, her nose itching from the smell of dust.
