end of the hallway. “I want this over and done with.” The door opened with a creak to reveal a winding stone staircase. Randolph waited. He arched a brow. “Well?”
“I, um…” She looked around to make sure no one watched.
“It won’t take long. If anyone chooses to search for you, you’ll merely tell them you went exploring. It is a large house after all.”
“Yes. I suppose it is.”
When she still didn’t budge he leaned forward. “This was your idea. You insisted I show you the portrait.”
“Of course.” She didn’t like his tone or the way he acted. It was menacing. Harsh. The opposite of what she wished in a husband. But since he did have a point and she wasn’t the sort to back down, she stepped forward into the stairwell.
A musty smell filled her nose. The door clicked shut. Randolph’s large, imposing body warmed her back. Lifting the hem of her skirt so she would not trip, she started up the stairs. The soles of their shoes scraped the edge of each step. Their creeping shadows, pinned to the wall by the oil lamp’s light, were unnaturally tall, willowy shapes that would feel right at home in one of those gothic novels she favored.
Angelica winced but kept going. She’d asked for this. The time for playing the coward was long gone now. Oh, if only she could trade places with Lady Seraphina. A sprained ankle and plenty of bed rest seemed like heaven compared with facing the mysteries of Colchester Hall while being subjected to Randolph’s temper.
They reached the top and moved forward, away from the stairs and across rough, un-sanded floorboards. The wood creaked loudly beneath their feet while the flickering flame from the lamp danced across the underside of the roof. Angelica looked up, impressed by the intricate, interconnected joists and rafters. The light faded and she realized Randolph had left her behind. She quickened her pace, weaving her way between boxes, crates, and the odd piece of furniture.
There he was, just up ahead. Angelica’s heart leapt. She could feel the darkness trying to catch her – the cold that started below in the hallway increasing its hold. Her teeth began to chatter. She folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself. Of course there would be no heat up here. They were practically out of doors. But what surrounded her was something deeper, stronger, a bleak desperation shrouded in ice.
“Here it is.” Randolph spoke, his voice oddly detached.
Angelica moved to his side. He held the lamp high so the light fell directly upon a rectangular object. It sat on the floor, leaning against a post. A sheet was draped over it, not with care but with what appeared to have been a hasty attempt at concealment.
“Well?”
Angelica started. She glanced at him, uncertain of how to proceed.
He did not look at her, just stared straight ahead as if trying to brace himself for what was to come. “You will have to do it.”
He turned to her then with raven-black eyes. A muscle twitched at the edge of his mouth. His features had never looked harder nor he more dangerous.
This was not a heartbroken man. The realization struck Angelica with such force she almost gasped. All this while, she’d thought he’d hidden the portrait because it pained him to be reminded of his loss. But that wasn’t it at all.
His cutting tone, the tension of his jaw, and his overall posture were further proof of what she’d been too blind to see. She swallowed as realization cemented itself in her conscience.
If Randolph had once loved his wife as he’d claimed, then he no longer did. Instead, he hated her with every fiber of his being.
“I’m sorry,” Angelica muttered, because it seemed like the most appropriate thing. And then, bolstering herself, she reached out and whipped the sheet aside.
The woman who looked back was stunning. She’d been blessed with a heart-shaped face, a creamy complexion, a perfectly proportioned nose, lips graced by a coy little smile, and eyes in a vibrant shade of cornflower blue.
Stillness overwhelmed Angelica. She sucked in some air, reminded herself to breathe. The chill in her bones snapped, sending pain into each of her joints. She hugged herself tighter.
“Satisfied?” Randolph stood rigidly beside her, his sneer of disdain shaking the air.
And all Angelica could think to say was, “Nobody told me her hair was red.”
He turned to her, his expression grim and… She wasn’t sure what. Surprised, didn’t quite fit and yet she sensed his