Page 97 of Ironvine

“Would you like a cup of tea to warm ye up? ’Twas cold out there today.”

“It was unusually chilly, and yes, I would very much love tea.” She wiped her boots on the small rug in the hall set for that purpose in such weather. “I thought I’d go to the library and find something to read. Could the tea be brought there?”

“Of course, ma’am.”

“Wonderful. Also, I was hoping to have a bath before dinner.”

“I’ll have your lady's maid see to it while you enjoy your tea, and it shall be ready.”

“Wonderful. Thank you.”

Rain splattered the windows, a lightning bolt flashed in the dark sky. “Thank goodness I came home when I did,” she murmured to herself, leaving her satchel with her sketchbooks and pencils and squares of rubber in her morning room, and headed to the library.

So many shelves. So many books. a giddiness filled her like it would when her father would take her to the sweet shop on the high street when she was a little girl. He’d gotten her one of everything she’d wanted.

Now her indulgences and pleasures were her painting and reading. At Fairthorn and at her sister’s she did much reading as it was the best way for her to be left alone, to not be criticised for not attending to the other pursuits a young lady should always be immersed in.

Although here at Ironvine, she didn’t want Charles to leave her alone, did she?

She’d wanted to start reading that sensational new novel Charles had bought, but hadn’t had a chance to start it yet. He’d told her where to find it here in the library. Every time she came in this room the filled shelves took her breath away. A fine library of Ironvine’s age and caliber was truly a thing of wonder. Most of the volumes were quite old, each of the highest quality bindings and leather. One shelf at the top left caught her eye. Three volumes were turned around so their spines were not visible.

“Odd.”

Georgina used the ladder and climbed up, which was quite easy in her boots. Each of the three books was painted on. The fore-edge of the paper had a miniature painting of a landscape. Green hills, blue sky, a castle in the distance. “How fantastic.” Carefully, she slid a volume out to inspect it closely.

The small paintings were detailed and delicate. On another volume, a couple dressed in the style of the previous century walked along a field, a manor house in the background. She looked to the other volume which was painted with two ships at sea. But there on the shelf, she spied something else.

Was that a knob? A handle?

Gripping the sleek wooden handle, she twisted it. A grating shoving sound filled the room, and she turned in its direction. A section of the wall had jerked open. “A jib door.”

She placed the books back on the shelf and scrambled down the ladder. Pushing at the false doorway, she entered. Her muscles tightened, her breath cut. Was this a secret inner passage to another part of the house? Or an escape route? Could this be from back when Catholic nobles would hide priests and monks in their homes?

She darted back out to the library and found a candelabra and lit the wicks. She wanted to be able to see everything inside the secret passageway. Bearing the light, she went back through the jib door. But there was no passageway, only a room. A small room with a faint spicy aroma, as if incense had been lit here.

She held the candelabra higher as she took small steps in the room. There was a wider than normal cushioned settee with an assortment of large and small cushions. Was this a private reading room? A glimmer shone on the wall. She blinked. Her breath cut. Her grip on the candelabra tightened as she moved it. The light revealed the richly coloured walls.

“Bloody hell, what is this?”

ChapterForty-Three

Georgina

The candlelight flickeredover a great colourful painting that filled an entire wall. A painting of a man about to roger a woman. His engorged member was quite large between his legs, and he was very ready to mount the naked woman before him whose legs were spread open wide on a messy bed. Angels floated above her, fanning her with their black wings.

Every detail of her nether regions was plainly visible.

Georgina moved the light along the wall. A second man stood over the woman and placed his member by her mouth, a hand stroking one of her perfect breasts. She turned, and her heart stopped as she took in the next painted wall. Images of multiple couples engaged in a wide variety of wanton acts.

Two men taking a woman at once—one laying beneath her, the other over her backside? A man suckling a woman’s arse as she took a man’s pego in her mouth?

Prickles of heat raced over her flesh, her throat burned. She went about the entire room. Every inch of space was painted with people swiving in a variety of positions. A feverish, fervent apocalypse. And very well painted as well.

She continued her exploration. In the lower right-hand corner just behind the door, she discovered a depiction of two women licking each other’s—

“What are you doing in here?”

Gasping, she swung around toward the deep voice, dropping the candelabra. It banged on the floor between them, and in the shadows, towered Charles.

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