One Thing Leads to a Lover (Love and Let Spy #2) - Susanna Craig Page 0,26

the aid of his spectacles, he held out little hope of finding Lady Kingston—although the color of the dress she wore might prove helpful in that regard.

When he saw no telltale flash of red, he once more wondered whether to curse his luck, or praise it. Had she already managed to slip away from Dulsworthy to go in search of the book?

He ascended the stairs, mingling so thoroughly with those around him that no one seemed to notice he had not been there before. A lady who clearly had had too many glasses of something stronger than lemonade reminded him that he still owed her a set. “After supper,” he promised in a drawling voice that was no more his than the one he’d used with Evans and his fellow footman, then fobbed her off on some hapless chap just leaving the card room.

He couldn’t be certain he was heading in the right direction, but he’d seen no library on the ground floor, and Dulsworthy might just as well have laid the book aside in his dressing room as anywhere else. An unlit corridor and the suggestion of private rooms beckoned ahead, and while a dozen people bustled past him, calling out to an acquaintance or debating whether they smelled goose or duck, he disappeared into its shadows.

The first door he opened led into a room so dark he had to pause just past the threshold to gather his bearings. The mingled scents of leather, paper, and beeswax hinted at a study, a library, an office. The row of large rectangles scarcely visible along the far wall must be windows, though they shed no light, only suggested something less than utter blackness. He waited for his eyes to adjust, though without a candle it would be impossible to search for anything here.

Beneath the rumbling noises on the staircase, the clatter and conversation from the nearby diners, all in this room lay utterly still. Yet awareness prickled along his spine and sent him onto the balls of his feet.

He was not alone.

After a moment, he began to make out the shapes of furniture, and recognized the reflection of the windows in a mirror above the mantle. He would likely find a tinderbox there, but the pathway to that promise of light was still too indistinct, doubtless cluttered with chairs and small tables his eyes had yet to identify. He waited in silence.

“Caw-caw-caw.”

The sound was low, uncertain. He tried to tell himself it had come from outside the room.

But after a moment, he heard it again. Closer. Louder.

“Caw-caw-caw.”

The call was vaguely reminiscent of a crow’s. Or rather, someone trying to imitate a crow. But why—? And who—?

Ah. Of course.

“Lady Kingston?” he whispered into the dark.

“Oh, thank goodness.” The reply came on a rush of relief as a figure hurried toward him from somewhere near the fireplace. “I thought it might be you, but at first I couldn’t work out a way to be sure without revealing myself. And you just stood there for so long. I realize it’s terribly dark in here—the natural effect of a rainy night, I suppose, and we’re quite at the back of the house—but I began to fear—”

He reached out his hands and caught her shadowy form by the upper arms before she ran into him, prompting another gasp. “Was that—was that meant to be a…bird call?” he asked.

“A magpie, yes.” She tipped her chin up and the bit of light that had managed to make its way into the room from the windows glittered in her eyes. “But I confess, I don’t really know what they sound like. I read up, as I told you before, so I know they often mimic other noises—other birds, I suppose. But what their natural call might be, I couldn’t—”

“Harsher. More grating.” His own voice was low and rough, but he held out little hope she’d take any hint from it. “Thoroughly unpleasant to the ear.”

This time he felt her breath catch, rather than heard it, and her whole body went still. “Oh.”

“Have you had a chance to look for the book?”

She shook her head. “I’ve only just managed to get away from the dancing.”

He wasn’t surprised the countess was a desirable partner. She certainly could be charming enough. And with her in that red dress, even a gentleman would look for any opportunity to draw her lithe figure close.…

“No matter,” he said, abruptly releasing her and setting her a little apart. “I think it’s best if I look and