Page 103 of Brave New Earl (The Way to a Lord's Heart 1)

Finally, with a screech of rusted hinges, the shutter came open. Geoffrey bent to wiggle through. “I’ll go out and open the door,” he said.

“Good.”

He squirmed out, and Jean was alone. Only for a minute, she told herself. She held on to the candlestick like a talisman.

One of Geoffrey’s hands reappeared, grasping the edge of the shutter. “I have to shut it,” he called down.

“You can do that later.”

“No, now.”

He tugged and coaxed, his new position much more awkward for maneuvering. Seconds plodded by like turtles.

“Leave it for now, Geoffrey.”

“I can do it,” he insisted.

She wouldn’t shout at him, Jean thought, less fearful than she had been at first. Yes, he was in a great deal of trouble over what he’d done to Mrs. Wandrell, and he must face the consequences. Yes, she was desperate to be out of this dark hole. But now was not the time.

After endless minutes, the shutter grated closed. “Got it,” the boy cried triumphantly.

More time passed. Not so very much, Jean knew, but it seemed ages before the bar grated against the door panel. Jean put her hand on the door, more than ready to push it open.

There followed a series of thumps and scrapes and finally what sounded like a kick on the lower part of the door.

“She’s put it on all crooked,” said Geoffrey’s muffled voice. “I can’t make it move.” Another thud suggested that he’d kicked the door again. “I have to get a stick.”

She was not trapped in the dark, Jean told her accelerating pulse. She had a light. Geoffrey was out and could tell someone where she was. “Go and find help,” she called.

“I can do it,” he answered.

“Geoffrey! Fetch Tom.” He wouldn’t mind telling Tom, and that resourceful lad would have the bar off in no time.

There was no answer. He’d gone looking for a stick, Jean realized.

Silence closed over her. Shadows shifted in the candlelight, making the masks look as if they were laughing and grimacing, mocking her weakness. Geoffrey didn’t understand what this felt like to her, Jean thought. He couldn’t be blamed if the time seemed short to him as he worked away at solving a problem.

Knowing this didn’t help a great deal.

She would get out, Jean told herself. Hadn’t she always gotten out? Hadn’t she found her own way to a wonderful new life? She need only be calm and patient. Geoffrey wasnotgoing to run off and forget about her.

At long last, there were sounds outside the door. “Geoffrey?”

“I got a good stick with a pointy end,” came the answer. “I’m just going to—” Something scratched on the outside of the door, followed by scraping and skittering like a wild creature clawing at the panels. Then finally a splintering sound.

There was a pause. Geoffrey spoke. Jean couldn’t hear him. “What?”

“The stick broke behind the bar,” he said louder. “I made it worse.” He sounded remorseful.

“That’s all right,” Jean called back. “Just go and get someone to help you. Get Tom.”

There was a short silence. “He’ll be cross with me,” said Geoffrey in a small voice that Jean could barely hear through the door. “I expect everybody will be cross with me. Won’t they?”

She couldn’t deny it. But she wasn’t sure what to say with him on one side of the door and her on the other.

“Youthink I was wrong to put that lady in there.”

If she agreed, would he leave her here? Jean’s history told her that he would. He would storm off and abandon her. Her candle would fail; she’d be alone in the dark. Despair rose in her throat. Her breath quickened. The light trembled in her hand.

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