Lift? It couldn’t be that easy, could it?
Robert braced one hand on the old wood and gripped a deep groove with the other. This door must have been here since this room was a prison—there were no knobs or handles on this side of it. He lifted and pushed. The door swung open as though it had never been stuck at all.
Robert felt his face heat. If that didn’t make him look like an idiot, he didn’t know what would.
“Are you all right?” Georgina asked them as they walked out, blinking, into a corridor with a small amount of outside light drifting in and a ceiling that didn’t feel like it was a second away from crushing them.
He nodded.
She peered at him. “Did you find anything?”
“No.”
“It was lucky I came to look for you so quickly,” Georgina was saying as they walked toward the spiral stairway. “You might have been down there for hours.”
It was lucky.
But Robert, in spite of how he’d felt at first, had actually begun to enjoy those private moments with Ian Cameron, regardless of where they were. He couldn’t help but wish she’d taken just a little more time.
Chapter Eleven
Focus wasn’t coming easily to Robert. As he jabbed the cue stick forward, his mind turned to Ian Cameron. Cameron had made use of the good weather after Georgina had rescued him from the dungeon, and Robert had seen him return to the castle with his shirtsleeves pushed back to his elbows and ash streaking his hands.
He must have gone to his cottage to see what he could salvage. Maybe he’d started cleaning it out and repairing it.
It was a reminder that it wouldn’t be long before Cameron returned to his home and not long before Theo returned, either. And then there would be no reason for Robert to speak to the other man, someone he should only know as his brother’s employee. He would barely see him at all.
No more nights under the stars. Or surprising conversations. Or hiding together underneath beds while stifling laughter.
It would all be gone, as if it was never there in the first place.
A sharp pain splintered his chest, and he missed his next shot.
“Did you miss on purpose?” Worthington asked. “Don’t go easy on the boy—he’ll never get better.”
Hale, who was in the process of lining up his own shot, flinched.
Robert stifled a sigh. He’d invited Hale to a friendly game of billiards to make up for the slight the night before, but Worthington insisted on hovering around them, criticizing. Robert truly didn’t understand why Worthington was so critical of his nephew.
“I assure you, I didn’t miss on purpose.”
Worthington looked skeptical.
Miss Worthington, who’d come over to watch, met Robert’s gaze, and her mouth curved in a sympathetic smile.
“No one makes every shot,” she said.
“Though you make more than most, Miss Worthington,” Robert said.
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.
Robert was glad that he could still make someone enjoy themselves. The tension Mr. Worthington brought to the gathering was oppressive.
Hale, who at this point was even paler than usual and had lost all self-confidence, missed a fairly easy shot in a fairly spectacular way—the white cue ball actually went airborne for a moment, nearly flying off the table entirely.
Worthington shook his head.
Robert glanced to the other side of the room, where Ian stood with Miss Hale, Mrs. Worthington, Georgina, and Frances. Ian had taken dinner alone and attempted to skip the socializing afterward, but Miss Hale hadn’t wanted to do without his company, using the excuse that there was an entirely unbalanced number of young women to men without him.
So he’d been wrangled up like livestock and was now the reluctant third unmarried male in their group of six.
As if he felt Robert watching him, Ian looked his way, caught his eyes with an impenetrable expression, and then looked back toward Georgina, who was speaking.
Robert wished suddenly that he was over there, instead of here playing billiards.
“I’m sorry,” Hale said, putting the cue stick down. “I’m not feeling well.”
Worthington picked up the stick almost immediately. “Shall I show you a real game, Townsend?”
“I might need a break myself,” he said.
Miss Worthington agreed to play with her father, and while they were occupied, Robert followed Mr. Hale over to the bookshelf. The younger man was staring at the bindings as though they fascinated him.
Robert, who didn’t like to see anyone in distress, thought about what to say to make him feel better. “It’s only a game, and you have the skill to get better. You simply lack confidence in yourself.”
Hale paused with his fingers touching one of the red leather bindings. “Confidence?” he said bitterly. “And where do I find such a thing? Under a rock? Hidden on a shelf?”
Robert blinked. Hale was a little…intense. He hadn’t thought such a thing possible, but maybe Hale had been reading too much poetry.
“Erm…inside yourself, I presume?”
“I’ve tried. There is nothing there.”
“Your uncle is unnecessarily harsh to you, but that doesn’t mean the problem is you. It could just as easily be him.”
Hale turned his sorrowful, dark eyes toward Robert. “You’re confident. How do you do it?”
This almost made Robert laugh. He wasn’t confident. He was just as insecure and anxious as anyone, maybe more so, but he’d learned to hide it behind smiles and jests and friendliness. He’d carved a place for himself, through force of will, because he hadn’t been sure if a place would open on its own.
“You fake it. It doesn’t matter if you believe it as long as everyone else does.”
Hale studied him. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
This boy was hopeless. Which meant Robert couldn’t do anything but try to help him. Maybe Ian was right about Robert. Maybe this was some kind of addiction. “Surely you have good points. Tell me some of them.”
“I…” He faltered.
“You’re well-read, aren’t you?” Robert nudged.
“I suppose.”
“That’s something. What else?”
“I…am not…horrible…at fencing.”
“There!” Robert said. “Well-read and good at fencing. You’re looking better by the moment. What else?”
He pursed his lips as he thought. “Nothing.”
“That’s all right. Two things is more than enough.”
“I suppose…” he began, and then stopped.
Robert nodded encouragingly.
“I have a certain acute depth of feeling that perhaps not everyone has.”
That sounded a bit unpleasant to Robert, but he kept nodding. “Quite. Those are all more important than billiards.”
Hale’s gaze drifted to where Worthington and his daughter played. “Still, I wish I was a little better.”
“I’ll give you some tips,” Robert said. “After they’re done. I can ask my sister to keep Mr. Worthington occupied with cards. How does that sound?”
Hale looked uncertain, but he finally nodded. “All right.”
It wasn’t long before they had an audience of three—Miss Hale, Ian, and Miss Worthington. Georgina was playing cards with the elder members of the party. She caught his gaze from the round table across the room, mouthed quadrille, and then mimicked shooting herself in the temple. She hated quadrille, but unfortunately, everyone over the age of forty was quite taken with the game.
Robert smiled and turned his attention back to Mr. Hale.
“Go for the easier shot first,” Robert said as Hale stepped forward, immediately eyeing the more difficult shot. “Give yourself time to warm up.”
He nodded and leaned forward. He seemed slightly more relaxed without Mr. Worthington’s scathing commentary, but he did still have an audience. His eyes flickered to them—Miss Hale was saying something to Ian, but Miss Worthington smiled encouragingly.
Hale’s grip tightened on the cue stick, face paling. He pulled his elbow back jerkily—
“Wait,” Robert said. The other man froze in place. “Just breathe for a moment. Line up your shot.”