The door pulled closed, the light receding until he could no longer see her face.

Crossing over to a divan, Gabriel saw the other end of the candlestick alongside a pile of books scattered across the floor. A nearly empty bottle of brandy sat on a table beside the divan. Picking up the other half of the candlestick, Gabriel quickly devised a plausible story as footsteps neared the library.

The doors swung open with a bang.

“She’s in here, all right,” Lord Harvey addressed someone Gabriel could not immediately see. His voice held a smug note of triumph. “How else do you think I obtained this damnable cut on my chin? Lady Celia plays rough, but the game is at its end. I’ll claim her as my bride with you serving as witnesses to her downfall.”

CHAPTER 4

Celia smothered a panicked whimper.

Remember. Breathe through the nose.

Carefully, she exhaled through her nostrils. Slowly, deliberately, until the wave of panic enveloping her was staved off using techniques she’d learned over the years.

This space behind the hidden panel was horribly dark. And the air was dank. Musty. A thin sliver of light penetrated where the false panel met the wall. It wasn’t much, but it was enough that she wasn’t left standing in complete darkness.

What a god-awful tangle she’d gotten herself into this time. Robert, that twit, was completely to blame.

How could she have known he was up at this hour? Roaming the hallways during a break from an all-night card game, he’d followed when Celia slipped into the library. He’d shut the door against her protests, taking the books she’d selected and setting them beside the divan. Then he tugged her into his arms.

Oh, what a fool she had been agreeing to a game of Kiss the Candlestick with him some months ago. That unfortunate incident resulted in a very precarious situation she’d barely escaped before. And today, during a reenactment of The Taming of the Shrew, he’d taken even further advantage. Pressing her against his body, forcefully claiming her mouth for one scene, then refusing to release her at its end.

She’d played along for the sake of the others gathered in the rose garden, accepting their applause when it was over, but Celia realized the trouble she’d fallen into. Lord Robert Harvey had it in his rather thick skull that he’d gained a spot on her list of potential husbands.

Was the man worthy of kissing? Yes. Robert was handsome, charming, and smelled pleasant enough. In fact, he was only one of a handful of men she actually enjoyed kissing.

But marriage? That was taking things a bit too far. She’d yet to find a man suitable for that. Suitable for her.

Taking another deep breath, Celia leaned her forehead against the panel wall. She could not make out what was being said. The voices were muffled, but she recognized Gabriel Rose’s controlled rumble.