first-floor landing, where Persephone stood with her back to them and her head bent over as if studying something in her hands.
“My grandmother was something of a dragon,” Harry went on. “Never left a fellow bellows to mend, I’d wager.”
“It is generally not a good idea to tell a short-tempered man that his wife has left you breathless,” Adam warned, Harry’s observation inexplicably raising his hackles.
“He might shoot me in my sleep?” Harry hazarded the guess with a barely held-back laugh.
“He might shoot you where you’re standing,” Adam answered with a growl.
“Hmm.” It was far too ponderous a sound for Adam’s tastes. Without acknowledging Harry’s apparent evaluation of the situation, Adam began moving up the staircase, bound for his book room.
Persephone, apparently, heard his approach. She spun around to face the gentlemen, hastily slipping something behind her back and smiling a little nervously. What was she hiding?
“Persephone,” Adam acknowledged with a slight bow.
“Hello, Adam. Mr. Windover.”
“We are practically brother and sister,” Harry said, the slightest scold in his tone. “You really ought to call me Harry.”
Adam noticed Persephone’s eyes drift toward himself, as if uncertain.
“You are afraid Adam, here, will inflict some dire punishment on me for such a liberty?” Harry guessed. Persephone seemed to smile the tiniest bit. “Do not fret. I know several highly secretive passages out of the dungeons.”
Persephone’s brow furrowed and she spun back around, glancing once more at the paper in her hands. Adam managed not to roll his eyes. She was still using that blasted map.
Persephone turned her attention back to Harry. “There are no passages leading out of the dungeons.”
“They are secret, ” Harry answered in a low aside. “You won’t find them on a map.”
Persephone colored up on the spot, her eyes once more shifting nervously in Adam’s direction. “I . . . I . . . I just . . .”
“You’ve been walking around with your nose pressed to that confounded map for a week,” Adam said. “I certainly hope you have the castle memorized by now.”
“After a week?” Harry had the effrontery to laugh out loud. “You and I may have the castle memorized, Adam. But we practically grew up here.”
“I did grow up here.”
“Truly?” Harry looked confused, but Adam spotted the twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “I was sure you were born grown-up.”
Before Adam could respond, the front bell rang. Adam reached out and snatched the map from Persephone’s unsuspecting grasp. “You cannot be forever looking at this thing,” he muttered. “Especially when there are other people around.”
“Because it would be embarrassing?” Persephone asked quietly.
“Because it would be ridiculous.”
“Not nearly as ridiculous as my getting lost four or five times a day, as I was before I had the housekeeper make up that ‘confounded map.’” Persephone motioned to the parchment crumpling in Adam’s fist. “And I would appreciate it if you would return it to me.”
“Do you still rely on it?”
“No,” she admitted warily.
Adam stuffed the map into his coat pocket. The bell rang again. Adam turned his gaze down the stairs toward the front door. “Someone had bloody well better answer that door before the entire staff is let go!” he bellowed.
“Of course, Your Grace,” Barton said quite calmly from the foot of the stairs. “I was merely waiting to inquire whether or not you are ‘at home.’”
“No,” Adam growled.
“Very good, Your Grace.” Barton, being a proper butler, turned without blinking an eye to the door and went about his duties. There was a man who understood how things are done. He performed his duties—he took Adam’s threats seriously—as he ought to.
Harry, as usual, chuckled. “Planning my demise?”
Adam shot him a venomous look.
“Would you mind putting off my obviously deserved murder
“My grandmother was something of a dragon,” Harry went on. “Never left a fellow bellows to mend, I’d wager.”
“It is generally not a good idea to tell a short-tempered man that his wife has left you breathless,” Adam warned, Harry’s observation inexplicably raising his hackles.
“He might shoot me in my sleep?” Harry hazarded the guess with a barely held-back laugh.
“He might shoot you where you’re standing,” Adam answered with a growl.
“Hmm.” It was far too ponderous a sound for Adam’s tastes. Without acknowledging Harry’s apparent evaluation of the situation, Adam began moving up the staircase, bound for his book room.
Persephone, apparently, heard his approach. She spun around to face the gentlemen, hastily slipping something behind her back and smiling a little nervously. What was she hiding?
“Persephone,” Adam acknowledged with a slight bow.
“Hello, Adam. Mr. Windover.”
“We are practically brother and sister,” Harry said, the slightest scold in his tone. “You really ought to call me Harry.”
Adam noticed Persephone’s eyes drift toward himself, as if uncertain.
“You are afraid Adam, here, will inflict some dire punishment on me for such a liberty?” Harry guessed. Persephone seemed to smile the tiniest bit. “Do not fret. I know several highly secretive passages out of the dungeons.”
Persephone’s brow furrowed and she spun back around, glancing once more at the paper in her hands. Adam managed not to roll his eyes. She was still using that blasted map.
Persephone turned her attention back to Harry. “There are no passages leading out of the dungeons.”
“They are secret, ” Harry answered in a low aside. “You won’t find them on a map.”
Persephone colored up on the spot, her eyes once more shifting nervously in Adam’s direction. “I . . . I . . . I just . . .”
“You’ve been walking around with your nose pressed to that confounded map for a week,” Adam said. “I certainly hope you have the castle memorized by now.”
“After a week?” Harry had the effrontery to laugh out loud. “You and I may have the castle memorized, Adam. But we practically grew up here.”
“I did grow up here.”
“Truly?” Harry looked confused, but Adam spotted the twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “I was sure you were born grown-up.”
Before Adam could respond, the front bell rang. Adam reached out and snatched the map from Persephone’s unsuspecting grasp. “You cannot be forever looking at this thing,” he muttered. “Especially when there are other people around.”
“Because it would be embarrassing?” Persephone asked quietly.
“Because it would be ridiculous.”
“Not nearly as ridiculous as my getting lost four or five times a day, as I was before I had the housekeeper make up that ‘confounded map.’” Persephone motioned to the parchment crumpling in Adam’s fist. “And I would appreciate it if you would return it to me.”
“Do you still rely on it?”
“No,” she admitted warily.
Adam stuffed the map into his coat pocket. The bell rang again. Adam turned his gaze down the stairs toward the front door. “Someone had bloody well better answer that door before the entire staff is let go!” he bellowed.
“Of course, Your Grace,” Barton said quite calmly from the foot of the stairs. “I was merely waiting to inquire whether or not you are ‘at home.’”
“No,” Adam growled.
“Very good, Your Grace.” Barton, being a proper butler, turned without blinking an eye to the door and went about his duties. There was a man who understood how things are done. He performed his duties—he took Adam’s threats seriously—as he ought to.
Harry, as usual, chuckled. “Planning my demise?”
Adam shot him a venomous look.
“Would you mind putting off my obviously deserved murder
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