Chapter Six
Determined to solve this odd mystery in which they’d found themselves, Allegra stood up from the couch, trying not to notice the intense look in Oliver’s eyes.
Bluer than blue, his met hers in a clash that should, by rights, have ignited sparks all over the place. She wasn’t sure what was going through his mind at that moment, but had a rather surprising feeling that she would like to know exactly where his thoughts had led him.
Which was completely and utterly wrong of her.
But since there was nobody there to judge her or condemn her for her somewhat wanton dreams, she set the entire matter aside and began to investigate the room.
Warm now, thankfully, and quite well lit thanks to the branch of candles, it didn’t take long for Oliver to join her. Logically, he started on the opposite side, and for the next half hour or so, the two of them tapped, rattled, opened, and closed their way around the room.
The walls, apparently, old though they were, had no secrets to reveal, since the panelling was quite firmly nailed in place.
The few pictures were mundane, the furniture functional but not of a style given to hidden compartments, and when they resorted to rolling up the carpet and examining the floor for anything that resembled a hidey-hole, they found nothing but dust.
“There’s not even a mousehole,” Allegra sat back on her heels. “You’d think, given the state of neglect here, that there would be at least one or two.”
Oliver brushed off the knees of his breeches as he stood and sighed. “Don’t complain. I’d rather no mice than a mess of little holes where things might be hidden.” He glanced at her. “Would you want to poke inside to see if it was there?” He held out his hand to help her stand.
“Er, no. You have a point.” His grip was firm and warm, and there was no denying the appeal of a strong arm easily lifting a woman to her feet. If she happened to linger slightly before releasing him, well…who was to know?
“So we move to the kitchen, then?” Oliver shot a look at the door. “I confess I’m not eager to rummage through ancient pantries.”
“I think we should,” she answered. “And I doubt there will need to be much rummaging, since I’ll wager the cupboards are bare. But if we don’t, and the treasure is there…”
“Agreed.” He followed her as she left the parlour and headed for the kitchen. He nearly walked into her as she stopped short on the threshold.
“Good God.” His exclamation matched her sharp intake of breath.
On the table in the centre of the simple room lay a meal. Lit by two candles, covered platters were set next to plain glasses half filled with what looked like wine.
A loaf of bread and a small dish of butter, cutlery, and a pair of sturdy white plates…all the things that would be expected by customers of an inn. And it smelled delicious.
“Cheese…” she breathed.
Cautiously, Oliver raised a cover. “Pie. Venison, I’ll wager.” He sniffed and closed his eyes.
“Am I dreaming this?”
“If you are, then I am too, and the likelihood of us sharing such a detailed dream is probably…well, incalculable.” He picked up the wine, glanced at her, then swirled it in the glass. “It seems…acceptable…”
She held her breath as he took a sip.
“Very nice. Very nice indeed. Full bodied and well-aged.”
“Thank you for that evaluation,” she snorted.
“Obviously, this is real. Someone laid a meal for us. Who, and how, since we’ve been here a while now and seen no one?
Well, I don’t know. But since they know their wines, then I assume you’re giving us carte blanche to dine.
” Her stomach rumbled loudly as the aroma of venison pie hit her nostrils.
He spread his hands wide. “I don’t know what to say, Ally. It’s food. We’re hungry. If it’s poisoned, and we eat it, we die. If we don’t eat it, we go hungry and who knows how long we’re going to be stuck here?”
A gust of wind rattled the inn, reminding them of the ongoing winter fury outside.
“So you’re saying we should risk it?”
“I’d rather die with a full belly.”
“I’d rather not die at all, but I am, unfortunately, really hungry, and that pie smells so very good.”
As if by mutual accord, they pulled out the chairs and sat, her stomach now intently reminding her that it had been many hours since she’d lunched with Jeremy and Susan. They seemed so far away at this moment, almost as if it had been another life.
The wind howled, and the snow kissed the windows with a soft hiss that clearly indicated thick fat flakes and a storm that refused to let up.
But here, in this little kitchen, they were warm and about to dine.
“The pie…” Oliver sighed as he sliced it and served them both. “If it’s as good as it smells…”
She accepted her plate and picked up her knife and fork. Cautiously, she severed a bite and put it in her mouth, waiting to see if there would be any adverse reactions. But no, all she experienced was the pleasure of chewing on an extremely well-made pie.
“Mmm,” she murmured, tucking in. “This is excellent.”
He nodded, mouth full, then swallowed. “I agree. One of the best I’ve had, I believe. And try the wine. It’s a rich Bordeaux, but I think you’ll find it to your liking.”
She sipped and nodded. “With this meal, here tonight, it’s ideal. Anything lighter would have been obscured by these flavours.”
He chuckled.
“What? Did I say something amusing?”
“No,” he shook his head. “It just seemed for a moment that we were dining at some elegant function and discussing the wine as if this was the most normal thing in the world.”
She shrugged. “Well, the way I see it, Oliver, is this. We can squawk and fuss and I can scream a little or perhaps faint at all these strange goings-on. Or…we can enjoy this surprise meal and behave like adults, and with luck some answer will reveal itself in due course.”
His gaze rested on her face as he ate his meal.
“Do I have gravy on my nose?”
He dabbed his lips with his napkin. “Why did you turn me down, Ally?”
He’d caught her off-guard, which was what he’d intended, although to be quite honest, he’d surprised himself as well with the spur-of-the-moment question.
She choked a little, managed to gulp down her mouthful of pie, and then reached for her wine.
A delaying tactic, he recognised, which was good.
She truly hadn’t expected the words that now hung in the air between them.
Her dark curls were tousled from their adventures, her smooth skin glowing, cheeks colouring in the candlelight.
She was every bit as beautiful now as she’d been when he asked for her hand in marriage.
Even more so, some might say, since the intervening years had added a touch of maturity to the young girl he’d found very appealing when first they’d met.
“I…I…” Allegra looked away. “That was not what I thought you were going to say.”
“I know. That’s why I said it. Will you answer the question, though?”
She sighed and sipped her wine again, as if considering her words, and he hoped he’d get some kind of reply that was more than just a platitude.
“I was very young, Oliver,” she said. “And you were the first man to express any interest in me. Certainly the first man to offer for me.”
“But?”
Her gaze shifted away from his. “But, as I said, I was young. And the attention, the fuss and bother, and yes, the excitement of my first season went to my head.”
“As did Fielding?”
She had the grace to nod. “I’m afraid so. If you needed any reassurance of how young and inexperienced I was, he could certainly provide it.”
“Few of us gentlemen could meet his standards, I’ll confess.” He tried not to curl his lips in disgust. “The perfect Byronic hero, as handsome as could be, with a deft touch that apparently had the ladies falling all over themselves in droves.”
Nodding again, she sighed. “I’m not sure who was the greater fool. Me for believing everything he said, or him for acting in such an obviously dreadful manner to so many women that he became notorious for it and completely lost his reputation.”
“I think, given your age, he must be accounted the villain, Ally. Although I will admit to some surprise that your family didn’t recognise his predilections.”
“Few did,” she agreed. “I suppose I should count myself lucky that I came away with a broken heart, not a damaged reputation myself.”
He remained silent for a few moments, then leaned back in his chair. “From Society’s perspective, you are, of course, correct. But I would imagine that for a young girl just taking her first steps into that world, a broken heart was very painful.”
She blinked. “That is a surprisingly accurate observation, Oliver.”
“I have my moments.”
“Should I apologise? I must admit that after our…er…acquaintance ended, I did wonder if perhaps I had treated you badly.”
“And I’m glad to hear that.”
“So I’ll agree that I was less than cordial…”
“I’ll accept that, but what I’m most glad about is that you still thought about me afterward.”
“Ah.”
His words had caught her by surprise, he could tell, and he grinned inwardly, knowing that had been his aim. Getting Allegra off-guard would be the way to find out if there was something there…something he’d felt three years before, and still couldn’t quite dismiss.
Being with her like this, trapped alone in the middle of a storm? It had stirred embers. And he wasn’t sure if he was glad or sorry, but there was no denying he still felt an attraction toward her, and it was now enhanced by a fascination with the woman she had become.
“Well, it seems we have finished our meal,” he offered, glancing at the empty plates. “Perhaps we should take our wine with us back to the parlour?”
She nodded and stood. “I’ll clean up the dishes. There are no servants that we know of, and I’m not sure we can rely on some mystical force whisking them away. Um…”
He tilted his head. “What?”
She bit her lip. “I find I have a need for…er…a brief moment of…er…privacy.”
He hid his amusement. “Of course.”
“I wonder…” She glanced out of the window over the snow that was mounting higher every minute. “There is likely an outdoor privy I could use if it’s reachable in this storm.”
“Let’s take a look.” He walked from the kitchen to what was obviously the back door. A small lantern hung conveniently from a nail placed next to it. “Let me get this going. It’s a good sign.”
Sure enough, when the lantern illuminated the outside, a small building several yards away from the back of the inn revealed itself. A wall had protected some of the path toward it, and Allegra had already seized her cloak.
“I can manage that short distance,” she said firmly. “May I have the lantern?”
“Of course.”
She stepped out boldly, and he watched as she made her way with care down the path to the privy, picking her way through the snow and hanging on to her flapping cloak.
Once she vanished inside, with the door closed, he quickly took care of his own needs by watering the snow mound next to the wall.
Sometimes, being a man was most convenient.
It didn’t take long for her to reappear, lantern swaying as she walked carefully back toward the inn.
A vicious gust blew her off balance, and her cloak swung violently. She gasped, skidded, and struggled with it, just as that same gust took the kitchen door and smacked it against the house.
Unfortunately, the blow was sufficient to dislodge an enormous accumulation of snow that had fallen on the roof above the path. The lantern went flying and Allegra was no longer a woman trying to grab her cloak, but a completely snow-covered mound that emitted a loud squawk.
Oliver managed not to laugh, but it was touch and go for a few dangerous seconds.