Rules for a Lady (A Lady's Lessons, Book 1) (15 page)

They wandered through the upper part of the crypt for a half an hour as the minister more than exhausted the subject of Norman architecture. Gillian's interest did not pick up until he paused at a heavy doorway.

"And this, of course, is the entrance to the lower chambers."

He made to move on, but Gillian stopped him. "But can we not go down there?"

"There?" The man's eyes bulged with shock. "But those are the lower chambers."

"I know, but—"

"Perhaps," Stephen interposed smoothly, "if we could just open the door and look in."

"But—"

"Please." Stephen's voice was firm.

The balding cleric hesitated, clearly reluctant, but he was no proof against Stephen's weighty stare. With a ponderous sigh, he used a large key to unlock the heavy doorway. Then, with Stephen's help, they pushed it open to reveal a cool, musty blackness resembling nothing more than a gaping black maw. Even Tom shrank back from his first glimpse, but Gillian knew what to expect. She had, in fact, been anticipating it.

She realized most people did not share her morbid fascination with burial practices. She glanced disdainfully at Lady Sophia's shrinking form and could not repress a grin. Perhaps this was not what Lady Sophia wanted to see, but then, Gillian had not asked them along.

"As you can see," continued the minister, "the lower crypts can be somewhat, uh, gruesome."

"Oh, I do not mind," quipped Gillian as she reached for a torch resting nearby for those entering the chambers. "The gruesome has always held a particular fascination for me."

"Why am I not surprised?" Stephen drawled.

Gillian flashed him a grin. "Because you know one can learn a great deal about a culture from the way they treat their dead. The ancient Egyptians, for example, used to..." Gillian let her voice trail away as she caught sight of Lord Tallis's horrified face. It did not bother Gillian a whit that Lady Sophia backed away from the lower chambers, but to have Lord Tallis staring at her as though she had just grown two heads was enough to give her pause.

She must appear hopelessly odd to him. Gillian bit her lip, indecision making her nervous. She was exceedingly curious about the crypts. So anxious, in fact, that it graced the top of her list of tourist locations. But she did not wish to look completely beyond the pale with her first gentleman acquaintance.

"Oh, Stephen," Lady Sophia called in a breathy voice. "Do stop her. It just is not done."

Gillian arched an eyebrow, suddenly decided. She wanted to be rid of Lady Sophia's infuriating presence. And the best way to do that was to enter the crypts. So she lit her torch off a wall sconce and flashed another grin at the wilting incomparable. "You will find. Lady Sophia, that I am hopelessly countrified. I often find myself doing things that just are not done. But"—she started to descend the narrow stairs—"if you would rather stay behind, I am sure I shall not come to any harm alone."

She shot another look over her shoulder, desperately trying to keep her expression innocent. Her efforts were rewarded by Stephen's exasperated sigh. "Minx," he said softly. "You know I cannot let you wander around there alone. Who knows what sacrilege you might commit? Then legions of old ghosts would come haunt me for allowing you to wander about unchaperoned."

"Nonsense," she replied as Tom joined her on the steps. "I would desecrate only one or two. You need not fear whole legions."

Stephen groaned, his eyes shifting uncomfortably between herself and Lady Sophia. "You are determined?" he finally asked Gillian.

"Absolutely." At that particular moment, Satan himself could not have prevented her from descending the stairs.

Stephen shrugged at the still goggle-eyed cleric, then lit his own torch. "Have at it then, brat."

Gillian grinned, pleased to have won out over the shrinking Lady Sophia. "Excellent." Then, just to make sure the elegant interlopers stayed behind, she continued to prattle in a seemingly innocent manner. "You know, I wonder if any of the raiments are still on the bodies or whether they will all have decomposed."

Beside her, Stephen groaned, but Gillian could not restrain a giggle. Her last glance at Lady Sophia showed the fashionable incomparable literally trembling on the threshold as she tried to steel herself for the descent. It would take only one last comment to make sure the lady stayed above. Gillian lifted her torch high, pretending to shine it about the large alcove, looking for a body.

"Oh, look," she called up. "The finger bones on this one are still intact. It seems as though he is reaching for something. Or could it be someone?" In truth, it was nothing more than a rats' nest. The bodies were kept deeper in. Still, it achieved its desired effect. High above them, she heard Lady Sophia's horrified gasp.

Then just behind her left ear, she heard Stephen's low voice, sending chills up her spine. "That was not well done of you."

She did not answer at first, choosing instead to focus on her footing as she gained the main chamber. Stephen was seconds behind her, but that gave her enough time to make sure her back was to him. Still, she knew she was acting shrewish, and a sharp stab of guilt coursed through her.

She squelched it, giving rein to her anger as she did her best imitation of his mother at her most annoying. "Oh, la," she said in an overly sweet tone. "It is not as if we invited her to join us."

"No, we didn't," he responded, his voice still low. "But my mother did, and it behooves us both to act civilly."

"Perhaps it behooves you," she snapped, throwing the words over her shoulder. "But your little ward does not feel nearly so charitable." Why she was so put out by his defense of Lady Sophia, she had no idea. But she was given no time to think about it as he grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him.

The crypts were dark, the only light from the flickering torches. They cast a reddish glow over his face, giving him an almost demonic appearance as he stared at her. Then, with one firm hand, he gripped her chin, tilting her head upward, forcing her to look directly into his eyes. The flames danced there as well, mesmerizing her even as she felt a sudden fear chill her bones.

She stopped all pretense of a struggle.

"Listen well," he said, his voice reverberating eerily against the stone walls. "Good manners are more than saying please and thank you. They are about being kind. About bringing out the best in people rather than the worst. And if you cannot do that, then you'd best go back to York now, for you will disgrace us both with your spite."

Gillian felt her chest compress with mortification.

He was right. In her effort to be sophisticated, she had acted as the very worst of the gentry rather than the best. Dropping her gaze, she murmured a soft, "You are correct, of course. I am sorry."

She watched in amazement as a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Chucking her under the chin, he placed her arm on his. "Come on, then. Let us go see your dead bodies."

But in that they were forestalled, as Lady Sophia, with more pluck than Gillian would ever have given her credit for, teetered down the steps on the arm of her brother, her face so pale as to be nearly translucent. Behind them came the minister, carrying another torch, his round forehead slick with worry as he glanced nervously at Lady Sophia.

"Praise be," called Lord Tallis with a relieved sigh. "I was afraid you had gone on. Come help her, Mavenford, while I light my torch."

With an irritating quickness, Stephen disengaged himself from Gillian and crossed the chamber to the base of the stairs. He reached out one hand, and Lady Sophia nearly tumbled into his arms as she tried to half run, half fly down the remaining steps. Then she attached herself to Stephen as though he were the sole barrier between her and the Great Beyond.

In her disgust Gillian nearly said something caustic, but mindful of Stephen's lecture, she kept her tongue firmly between her teeth. Not so Tom, who kept close to her side.

"Looks like a plucked chicken with that scrawny neck and pasty skin o' hers."

Gillian looked down in surprise, nearly choking on her laughter. "Tom, that was not kind."

He shrugged, clearly showing that the earl's lecture had no effect on him. "Want I should draw 'er feather?"

"What?"

"That geegaw. Should I pluck it fer ye?"

Gillian glanced back at Lady Sophia. The woman had regained some of her composure and now stood nearly candlestick straight, except for her decided lean toward Stephen. They conversed in low tones while the cleric rambled on again about the stonework.

It was not until a flash of torchlight caught the gleaming gold of a cross resting neatly between Lady Sophia's breasts that Gillian understood Tom's question.

"You cannot mean to lift her cross, Tom. Why, she is wearing it in plain sight."

Tom stiffened at what was apparently an insult to his pick pocketing skill. "I can. Just watch me."

He made to slip away, but Gillian grabbed him, holding him back. "Do not dare, Tom. Just think what would happen if you were caught. You would lose your position with the earl. Besides, he would have my ears on a platter for letting you try."

"But—"

"No, Tom." She gave him a hard stare until he finally gave in with a dramatic sigh. She grinned and ruffled his hair as they passed through a stone archway into another chamber. "Thank you for the thought anyway," she whispered. "It would have been nice to see that superior little smile wiped right off her face. Ah, well," she said on her own mournful sigh. "I am respectable now and must not think such things."

"Don't know why you take on so." He grimaced at the earl and the woman who was now so close to him she seemed suctioned to his hip. "Plain as piss you have twice as much bottom as she."

Once she translated his comment into understandable English, Gillian felt her spirits lift. Yes, she still wanted to scratch Lady Sophia's eyes out, but at least Tom remained her friend. "Thank you, Tom. I think."

"Yep." He nodded. "You and me, we's cut from the same cloth. Don't go trying to ruin it by becoming one of 'em." He spat disdainfully toward Lady Sophia, then caught sight of the first corpse-filled recess. "Blimey, think they has any geegaws left on 'em?" Then he dashed off to inspect it, carefully blowing away the dust as he no doubt tried to find something to steal.

Gillian slowed her step, her eyes trained on the boy while her heart beat hard in her chest. He'd said they were cut from the same cloth. Could it be that apparent? Could everyone see her baseborn roots as clearly as Tom?

She knew he meant his words as a compliment, but Gillian saw them as another example of just how far she must go to pull off her charade. If one little street boy could figure her out in two weeks, how long before someone else did? How long before Stephen did?

She would have stood there in shock, her confidence failing her with every breath, if not for the sudden appearance of Lord Tallis by her side. "Save me, sweet lady, from dying of boredom. It would seem our cleric is intent on relating everything ever recorded on stonework until I quite want to drop some of these exquisite examples on his head."

Gillian blinked, refocusing her thoughts with an effort. "Uh, I am sorry if this bores you, my lord. Perhaps you could go above and find—"

"You misunderstand, Miss Wyndham," he interposed smoothly. "I said the prosy cleric bores me. You, however, do not. Do you truly find these bodies interesting?"

They wandered over to a room filled with dusty piles of bones laid out in recessed alcoves.

Kneeling down, Gillian brushed some of the filth away from ancient lettering carved into the rock. "Yes, Lord Tallis," she finally confessed. "I do find this interesting. I know that makes me hopelessly odd, but there it is."

He stepped closer, apparently to inspect one of the higher bodies. "Say unusual rather than odd." He turned so he looked nearly straight down at her. "Unusual and most intriguing."

Gillian stood up and backed away, not liking the way his gaze seemed to center on the curve of her breasts. When she spoke, she kept her tone hard, but not cold. "You will find, my lord, I am most immune to Spanish coin. I know the true reason you are speaking with me is to free up Stephen for your sister."

His light eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch. "Stephen, is it?"

She felt herself blush and was furious with herself for such a stupid gaffe. "The earl is my cousin and my guardian. We have become somewhat familiar."

"Indeed." There was a wealth of subtle intrigue hidden within the word, and Gillian found herself angry despite the fact that an innocent debutante might not understand any of his implications.

"I find your tone offensive, my lord."

Suddenly the slightly debauched courtier disappeared as Lord Tallis grinned with boyish impudence. "My apologies, Miss Wyndham. It is just that Mavenford is such a handsome devil. You would not be the first young chit to find herself in thrall to him, even before he got the title. I just needed to be sure—"

"My lord! He is my guardian!" Her tone was stiff with outrage even though her face felt like an inferno of embarrassment.

"Gently, Miss Wyndham. Gently," he soothed, and they glanced over at Stephen and Lady Sophia, who both regarded them with mixed expressions of curiosity and disapproval. Lord Tallis smiled and nodded at them; then he reached over and gently took her hand, placing it on his arm. Though reluctant, Gillian did not resist, and when she looked back up at her guardian, he was leaning down to catch something Lady Sophia felt necessary to whisper into his ear.