“I said I wasn’t injured,” she said, but there was a rough, forced quality to her voice.

He did not respond, just tucked her hand in the crook of his arm after reaching down to retrieve the lantern. “Would you like to return to the drawing room or head outside?” he inquired.

“Outside,” she said, her chin quivering through her regal tone. “Please.”

He nodded and led her forward. She did not seem to be limping, but it was hard to tell for sure; she was holding herself so stiffly. They had walked together so many times during that brief period he had come to think of as their honeymoon; never had she felt like this, all glassy and brittle.

“Is it far?” she asked.

“No.” He’d heard the swallow in her voice. He didn’t like it. “The exit is near the orangery.”

“I know.”

He didn’t bother to ask how. It had to be the servants; he knew she hadn’t spoken to either of his sisters. He’d meant to show her the tunnels, he’d been looking forward to it. But there hadn’t been time. Or maybe he hadn’t made time. Or forced her to take the time.

“I tripped,” she said again. “I would have been there already if I hadn’t tripped.”

“I’m sure,” he murmured.

She stopped hard enough for him to stumble. “I would!”

“I wasn’t being sarcastic.”

She scowled, then looked away so quickly he knew her ire was self-directed.

“The exit is just up ahead,” he said, a few moments after they resumed their pace.

She gave a terse nod. Richard led her along the final stretch of the tunnel, then released her arm so that he could push open the door in the ceiling. He always needed to crouch in this part of the tunnel. Iris, he noted with a wry amusement, could stand straight, the top of her blond head just skimming the ceiling.

“It’s up there?” Iris asked, looking up at the hatch.

“It’s at a bit of a slant,” he replied, working the latching mechanism. “From the outside it looks a bit like a shed.”

She watched for a moment, then said. “It latches from the inside?”

He gritted his teeth. “Could you hold this?” he asked, holding out the light. “I need two hands.”

Wordlessly, she took the lantern. Richard winced as the latch pinched his index finger. “It’s a tricky thing,” he said, finally snapping it free. “You can open it from either side, but you have to know how to do it. It’s not like a regular gate.”

“I would have been trapped,” she said in a hollow voice.

“No you wouldn’t.” He pushed the door open, blinking as the sunlight assaulted them. “You would have turned around and gone back to the drawing room.”

“I closed that door, too.”