A Companion for the Count: A Regency Romance by Britton, Sally (story reading .txt) 📗

and incapable of listening as long as they kept their voices low. “Speaking of reading and plots, I think I am ready to share my secret with you.”

That made Emma drag her thoughts away from the absent ambassador. “Your secret? The one you have kept more than a fortnight? That must be a new best for you, Josie.”

“Do not tease, or I will keep it from you even longer,” Josephine threatened, glaring at Emma with false heat. “Do you want to know where I have been going or not?”

“I want to know.” Her initial curiosity on the subject coupled with her wanting to banish Luca from her thoughts strongly motivated her enthusiasm.

“Excellent. A race back to the castle, then?” Josephine’s eyes glowed with the suggestion, and Emma readily agreed.

A quarter of an hour saw them back in the castle’s entrance hall, the groom having taken charge of their horses. The two of them hurried down corridors, giggling and whispering that they mustn’t be caught by the duchess or the dowager duchess. Not that either grand lady would do much to hinder their progress. Pretending they were performing mischief produced a heady feeling and recalled for both memories of their girlhood.

Emma followed Josephine down one of the corridors in the guest wing, which was quiet and empty at the moment, until Josephine stopped before a small door made to look like part of the wall. The only thing that gave the door away was the slightest seam in the wall. With eyebrows raised, Josephine pushed the door inward, and a mechanism on the inside made it rebound enough for her to catch the edge of the door and pull it open.

Confused, Emma put her hand on Josephine’s arm. “This is a broom cupboard. We used to hide in it when we played hide and seek with Andrew.”

And as the door swung open, it appeared the cupboard still held only a rack of brooms, mops, and feather-dusters. A shelf at the rear likewise had a bucket and folded linen cloths for cleaning and polishing furniture.

The closet was wide enough that both women could stand inside, shoulder-to-shoulder, and deep enough to do the same.

“I know what it is. But what it is hiding is more fascinating. Look.” Josephine entered the cupboard, holding her long riding skirts out of the way, and reached beneath the tall shelf bearing the cleaning equipment.

Emma did not see any mechanism, but the back of the closet suddenly vanished, sliding into the wall. She gasped and came into the closet, closing the door behind her. Light poured in from the new doorway, making it easy enough to see Josephine’s broad grin.

“I found it quite by accident. I ducked in here to hide from your tiresome cousin, and I saw the little rod that controls the door slide. I’m not certain why it’s here—though of course Mama would have put it in her designs.”

There were a few secret rooms in the castle, but each was only a secret to the rest of the world. The duke even had a study, deep within the center of the castle and accessible only through servants’ halls, where secretive meetings had taken place in the years England was at war. There was a room where the children were taught to hide if they heard their parents say a particular word, indicating their lives were in danger. There was a pathway out of the castle the family could access through a door in the old nursery, and governesses and nurses alike had been taught how to protect children who would be excellent targets for those wanting to ransom them for fortunes or strike out at the duke.

“Being a duke’s daughter is all very well and good,” Josephine had said once, “until you think of all the horrid things other people want to do to you.”

Emma followed Josephine up a winding staircase made of stone, too narrow for them to walk together, though not so tight a fit as to make Emma uncomfortable. Light streamed in from fogged glass every few feet, and Emma realized suddenly where they were.

“This is the false tower!” she exclaimed.

Josephine hushed her. “At the rear of the castle, yes. It turns out that it is not false.” She sighed happily when she reached the landing. “Here we are.”

The small landing opened up to a circular room with arrow-slit stained-glass windows facing each of the cardinal directions. If Josephine and Emma touched fingertips in the center of the room, they could then each touch the wall with the other hand with little effort. It wasn’t very tall, either. The duke would likely have to keep his head bent to remain upright in the room.

The sun coming through the windows made the air warm, and Emma could see her lady’s domestic skills put into practice with two small rugs layered atop each other, a large plump cushion against one wall, and a traveling writing desk in the center of the floor. A small trunk stood open against the wall, with shawls dripping out one side and a stack of cut paper resting neatly on the other.

There was a lamp, too, and a little tinder box. A small mantelpiece clock with a crack in the glass rested outside the box, showing the time.

“A cozy nest,” Emma said, folding her legs beneath her. “What have you been doing up here? Besides hiding.”

Josephine sat on the cushion and pulled her legs up close, resting her chin on her knees. “I have been writing.”

“Writing?” Emma blinked at the paper in the box again. “Writing what? Letters?”

“A book.” Josephine made the admission quietly, the way one might admit to favoring a mongrel over a gently bred lapdog. “A book about a gentleman’s daughter living in the country.”

Emma’s mouth opened and shut, the words she first thought to say not suitable for her friend’s admission. No one of Josephine’s standing could publish a book without being laughed at or ostracized. Her father’s enemies and political opponents would use anything