someone had been here more recently than that, but Cecilia couldn’t imagine who.
She closed the lid and rose to her feet, but she stood over the trunk for some time, hands braced on her hips, thinking. Amy had said Lord Darlington closed the third floor a year ago, right after Lady Darlington’s death. Had Mrs. Briggs been up here since then, searching for something?
Or had it been Lord Darlington? Had he come up here and snatched something from his late wife’s trunk? It seemed unlikely a man who couldn’t even bear to look at his dead wife’s portrait would want her fans and stockings, and in any case, why would he break the lock? Surely, he’d have a key to the trunk—
“This isn’t the schoolroom, Cecilia,” said a deep voice behind her. “Are you lost again?”
Cecilia whirled around, startled. “I—”
“Wait, let me guess,” Lord Darlington drawled. “A cat lured you up here.”
She whirled back around again, but Seraphina, who’d been there only moments before had vanished, leaving Cecilia alone to explain herself. Again. “Since you ask, I did in fact follow—” That was as far as she got before she inhaled a cloud of dust kicked up by the swish of her skirts, and fell into a sneezing fit.
“Oh, for God’s sakes. Don’t expire now, Cecilia, before you’ve had a chance to peek behind every corner.” Lord Darlington strode forward, the thud of his riding boots over the old wooden floorboards sending another cloud of dust into the air, and offered her a handkerchief.
Cecilia took it and pressed it delicately to her nose. “I beg your—”
“Pardon. Yes, you’re good at that. Not quite so good at following my orders, however.”
Cecilia, who was blinking down at the handkerchief in her hand, said nothing. Dear God, how could one tiny scrap of linen smell so intoxicating? She’d never smelled anything more mouthwatering in her life.
“Well? Let’s have it then.” Lord Darlington crossed his arms over his chest. “If it wasn’t a cat, what was it? Is there some other animal running wild in my attics?”
Cecilia gaped at him with wide eyes, her throat going dry. His white linen shirt hugged his muscular arms and pulled tightly across his chest. He wore no coat, no waistcoat, and no cravat. Just white linen, slightly damp, and beneath it, disturbingly visible, inch after inch of smooth, golden skin. His dark hair, also a bit damp, curled against his neck, and he wore sinfully tight breeches and tall black boots.
He’d been out riding. The handkerchief still clutched in her hand must have been pressed close against his body, absorbing the delicious scent of leather, and clean, masculine sweat. It was still tickling her nose, stealing her breath.
His scent.
Cecilia swallowed. Oh, this was worse than the coal scuttle incident, when she’d been struck speechless by his open shirt. Much, much worse.
Lord Darlington didn’t seem to notice she couldn’t tear her gaze away from his chest. “Don’t keep me in suspense, Cecilia.” He beckoned to her with a lazy twitch of his fingers. “What are you doing up here, scurrying around like a curious little mouse?”
“You never said a word about the attics being forbidden.” It was a feeble excuse, but it was the best Cecilia could manage with the dark shadow of his nipples peeking out at her as they were. Why, he might as well not be wearing a shirt at all!
“Mrs. Briggs told you the third floor of the castle is closed, didn’t she?” He raised one dark, imperious eyebrow at her.
That arrogant eyebrow broke the spell his chest had cast over her, and not a moment too soon. It was a lucky thing he was such a demanding, overbearing tyrant, or she might never have come to her senses. “Yes, Mrs. Briggs told me. You know very well she did.”
“Perhaps you didn’t understand it’s being closed meant you shouldn’t come up here?” he asked, with exaggerated patience.
“I understood.” Cecilia’s eyes were still watering from the dust. His scent was addling her wits, and she tried not to inhale as she dabbed at them with a corner of his handkerchief.
“Yes, I thought you had. Imagine my surprise, then, when Amy said I could find you up here. Four days ago, you were nearly dismissed for sneaking about the castle, yet here you are, where you’re not meant to be.”
Cecilia’s shoulders slumped. “Am I dismissed again?”
“No. Dismissing you wasn’t a wise choice the first two times I tried it, and now you’ve made yourself indispensable to