With a snap, Merrick shut the book he held. “I said nobody was to be admitted this week, Mrs. Bevan.”
The woman didn’t budge. “I bain’t aboot to bid the Duke of Sedgemoor back on his pony.”
Sidonie watched a strange expression flicker across Jonas’s face. Not gratification but not precisely hostility either. “Where is His Grace?”
“Kicking his heels in the hall but he doon’t look the patient type.”
A grim smile flicked up the corners of Merrick’s lips. “He’s not.”
Sidonie surged to her feet, horror and humiliation colliding in her belly. She and Merrick had been so isolated, she’d almost forgotten that she risked disgrace being here, not just for herself but for her whole family. “He can’t know I’m here.”
With a decisive gesture, Merrick slid the book back onto the shelf. “Hide on the balcony. I’ll get rid of him as soon as I can.”
As Sidonie skittered up the narrow, winding stairs to the mezzanine, Mrs. Bevan left to fetch the duke. Sidonie hardly had a chance to huddle against the balcony floor before she heard the door open again.
“Your Grace,” Merrick said coldly. Something in his voice made the hairs stand up on Sidonie’s nape. He sounded like the man who had taunted her upon her arrival.
“Merrick,” a deep voice replied in a neutral tone.
A barbed pause ensued. Curious, Sidonie slid forward to peep over the edge. From this angle, she had a clear view of Merrick’s face. He was in one of his inscrutable humors, his expression set and the scars standing out vividly. All she saw of the other man was ruler-straight, raven hair and an impressive set of shoulders in a dark blue coat.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Merrick sounded like he lied about “pleasure.”
“I was passing.”
Merrick didn’t dignify that answer with a response. Castle Craven wasn’t on the way to anywhere. Sidonie knew that was why he’d chosen it for his assignation with Roberta. “I didn’t hear a carriage.”
“I rode up from Sidmouth. My sister Lydia has settled on an estate outside the town with her new husband.”
The duke shifted and at last Sidonie saw his face. She muffled a gasp of admiration. He was breathtakingly handsome, with chiseled features, like a hero from a legend. His outer perfection threw Merrick’s disheveled ugliness into stark relief. The two men were of similar height and age but there any likeness disappeared.
“So you decided to look up a fellow you haven’t had a private conversation with in over twenty years?”
“Richard suggested I come.”
“Oh, well, that explains it.”
After the sarcastic rejoinder, another of those electric silences descended. Sidonie couldn’t define the relationship between the two men. It was more complex than mere dislike or a meeting between incompatible acquaintances.
“Devil take your overweening pride, Merrick. I’d have left you to rot, but Richard insisted that I warn you about Hillbrook’s threats.”
This time Sidonie’s soft gasp of dismay was clearly audible. Dear Lord, what on earth was wrong with her? Her heart thudding triple time, she cowered against the balcony floor. She prayed she’d ducked before the duke caught sight of her.
“What the deuce was that?” the duke asked sharply. She couldn’t see whether he glanced up at her hiding place. “Have you got a woman here, Merrick? Is that the reason for sequestering yourself in this damned inaccessible ruin? When I went to your offices, it took forever to wheedle your whereabouts out of your head clerk.”
“No woman worth her salt would endure Devon in November.” Jonas sounded careless. Sidonie hoped his tone proved more convincing to the duke than to her. “Your imagination plays tricks on you, old man. Mice infest these old houses. Any rustles or bumps are purely down to rodents in the wainscoting.”
The duke’s lack of response indicated skepticism. Sidonie’s heart raced at a dizzying speed as she waited for him to inquire further. Although surely that would be a breach of manners for the famous Duke of Sedgemoor. Even she, in her isolation, had heard His Grace was a paragon of decorum and virtue. He seemed an unlikely associate for the disreputable Jonas Merrick. But they must share some link of amity or commerce or why else was the duke here?
Merrick’s voice developed an edge of impatience. “What’s William saying?”
“He’s threatening you with death and ruin, claiming he’ll report you for sharp practices over that lunatic emerald scheme. He loathes you.”
“That’s hardly news.”
“Are you saying you didn’t bend the rules in dismantling the company?”
“Nothing likely to bring the law down on my head. Did I have a word in certain ears about the mines? Perhaps. But the enterprise was doomed to founder well before I shot holes in it.”