Page 18 of Hearts of Briarwall

Andrew shrugged. “The winding key was lost. Who knows if it would still work if wound?”

Miss Janes gasped. “We should have a search for the key. We could make a game of it.”

“Search if you must,” Andrew said. “I know Father once inquired of the servants years ago, but no one knew of its whereabouts.”

“What say you, Mr. Hayes?” Miss Wooding asked eagerly. “Care for a key hunt?”

It took quite a bit of work for Spencer to look away from a pretty woman so thrilled to be inviting him to, well, anything.

“Lydia,” Andrew chided, “kindly allow us to have at least one evening of normalcy before we expose Mr. Hayes to youruniquebrand of entertainment.”

Spencer flicked a glance at Andrew, who was still focused on his dinner, then back to Miss Wooding. He watched as the light in her eyes dimmed and the color in her cheeks became blotchy.

She lowered her gaze and offered a small, forced smile of apology. “Of course. Silly of me, anyway.”

“Andrew, the search was my idea,” Miss Janes said, her eyes still on Lydia, who was fumbling with the napkin on her lap.

Andrew finally looked up from his fork, glancing between the two women.

Spencer cleared his throat. “I should like to try to find the key. If anything, it is an opportunity to reacquaint myself with the home I have such fond memories of.”

Miss Wooding peered hesitantly up at him.

“Finding the key would only be a bonus,” he added.

“You need not—” Miss Wooding began, albeit timidly.

“Thankyou, Mr. Hayes,” Miss Janes said, speaking over her friend. She turned to Andrew. “And what sort of boredom will you be immersing yourself in while we adventure, Andrew?”

Andrew still watched his sister but pulled himself from whatever commanded his thoughts and focused on Miss Janes. “I was hoping you and my sister would play for us, Miss Janes.”

She nodded primly. “How authoritarian of you.”

Andrew sighed silently, but deeply. “If you wish a key hunt, we shall key hunt.” He turned back to Miss Wooding. “I apologize, Lydia.”

She lifted her gaze to her brother and nodded her acceptance.

Later, as they quietly dipped their spoons into a raspberry jam trifle, Spencer caught Miss Wooding’s eye and granted her what he hoped was an assuring smile. The corner of her mouth rose a fraction in reply. That was enough for his rebellious pulse to beat a bit faster than he wished it to. She was only Andrew’s little sister, he reminded himself. Though it was becoming clearer to him that she did not always relish that claim.

“Mr. Hayes,” Miss Janes said, startling him from his thoughts, “tell us your thoughts on birds.” She gave a small yelp as though someone had kicked her under the table. Andrew did not seem to notice, and Miss Wooding studied the chandelier.

Perhaps his earlier concern for Miss Janes was not unfounded.

Chapter 4

Andrew led them through the corridor with unexpected enthusiasm. “We shall begin in the study, as that is where the clock is. It stands to reason that the key would be kept there as well.”

Lydia blinked slowly, willing herself to not roll her eyes at Andrew’s sudden interest and command. Still, her sideways glance was caught by Mr. Hayes, who kept his chuckle silent.

Andrew threw open a door and stood aside. “Here we are.”

“We know where the study is, Andrew,” Lydia sighed, not completely over the way he’d belittled her at dinner. She crossed the room to the brass griffin, nestled on the shelf containing books on Greek mythology. The creature stood about seven inches tall and nine inches wide. The timepiece itself, a round, gold clock beneath the beast’s front talon, was a mere three inches across, and, as Andrew had said, was frozen at six past two.

The others joined her, giving the clock more attention than it had garnered in a century.

“It is quite regal, isn’t it?” Florrie said.

Lydia nodded. “Seeing it again, it occurs to me that Poppy and Treacle would not have lasted two hours with a griffin in that stable.”

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