Fanella hadn’t eaten fish since earlier in the summer and the very idea had her mouth watering. Of course, it was near suppertime when she’d decided to explore, and she’d already been hungry.

  “But, as to your question, the closest town with any sizeable population was across the Mississippi, New Madrid, with approximately two thousand residents.”

  “That’s even smaller than Falkirk,” Fanella exclaimed with a bit of alarm. “Yer sisters and mother are probably verra happy to be in a city.”

  “We aren’t in the city but own a plantation outside of it.”

  “Do ye grow sugar cane?” At least she believed those were the crops of plantations from what she’d read.”

  “Yes we do,” he answered in surprise. “But truthfully, I hadn’t expected a sheltered miss to know what was grown on a Louisiana plantation.”

  Fanella simply shrugged. “I read a lot. In fact, in the winter there is little else ta do but read.”

  As delightful as Miss Grant’s company was, the longer they were stuck here alone, the tighter the noose was growing about Ethan’s neck. Not that he would face a hangman, but he might very well be forced to face a vicar. He should have known better than to come down here with Miss Grant. He should have known better than to follow her. He knew the ramifications of being caught alone with a miss and spending any amount of time with her unchaperoned.

  “I am certain your family will take note of you missing even if mine does not,” he offered hopefully as he raised a glass to her then sipped on the rich ruby wine.

  Miss Grant winced. “In time, I suppose, though it won’t be remarked upon, and one of my brothers may visit my chamber to ask why I wasn’t at supper…”

  Bloody hell, it could be hours before anyone bothered to wonder where the blazes either of them were. “Why is that, Miss Grant? Do you have a tendency to avoid people as well?”

  “Nay. I lose track of time, if ye must ken. Whether it is explorin’, readin’ or anythin’ that catches my interest.”

  She did need a keeper, apparently.

  “There is just so much ta see, do and learn. Ye doona ken what it’s like bein’ in Falkirk and the most excitin’ time I’ve had were the two Seasons in London.”

  “Is life so tedious in Falkirk?”

  “Nay, Mr. Copeland. Not tedious, except in the winter I suppose, but I want to see more of the world than Scotland,” Miss Grant explained. “Visitin’ Chatwell Castle is nearly as excitin’ as visitin’ London and I couldna wait to explore the castle, the history...” she ended on a sigh.

  “Ethan.”

  “Ethan?”

  “As we are stuck here, and sharing a bottle of wine as friends, please call me Ethan.”

  “If ye will call me Fanella,” she returned as a blush spread across her cheeks.

  Ethan lifted his glass in a silent toast, nodded then sipped.

  Had she really been so sheltered from the rest of the world? Had she only visited London and now the castle?

  She was a miss, which didn’t afford her the same opportunities as a man, to venture out and discover the world beyond a village.

  Ethan took another sip of his wine and studied her. She did practically vibrate with energy and her grey eyes were alight with curiosity. A curiosity that hadn’t dimmed since he first spied her in the sitting room.

  “I’m assuming you didn’t find a husband in London.”

  She snorted before she took a sip of wine. “I doona like the leisurely life and that is what a gentleman would expect.” She sighed. “Oh, to see more of the world. To go places and do thin’s. To explore.” Fanella blew out another sigh.

  If they didn’t get out of here soon, she’d at least see Louisiana.

  “Once they do realize we are missing, they won’t know where to look,” she said after a moment as worry marred her brow. “The castle is huge.”

  Not to mention all the hidden passages in addition to the chambers, common rooms, towers. They could be stuck here for days. Or, until His Grace needed more wine.

  Chapter 5

  Ethan! He wanted her to address him as such. No man had ever asked it of her before and Fanella found that she quite liked being able to do so. However, it would only be while they were confined, and not after they’d been reunited with family and guests.

  Confined! She’d never been one to do well stuck in one place for very long, unless she was sleeping. Being locked in a cell only made it worse. She could pace, as Ethan had done earlier, but that wouldn’t solve her predicament.

  At least she had company. A very handsome man named Ethan, so the situation could be worse. And, they had wine, which was rather delicious, even if it wasn’t whisky.

  He lifted the bottle and poured more into their glasses. Though it was relaxing and helped to calm her nerves, the silence that stretched between them was the enemy to the serenity trying to sink into her bones. “How did yer father end up in America? He was the son of a duke.” One does not usually consider the son of a duke as a simple farmer.

  Ethan laughed. “My father was the youngest son of five. He assumed, as would anyone with four older brothers, that there was no need for him to remain near, marry and provide another heir.”

  Fanella frowned. If there were five brothers in all, where were they? She’d been under the impression that Ethan’s father was the spare and the reason his older brother was here, because he’d one day be the Duke of Ellings.

  “As soon as he left Eton, Father boarded a ship for America and set out for adventure, fortune and freedom.”

  “I wish I could do the same,” Fanella sighed. But, as a female, it wasn’t possible. “Did he never come back?”

  “Once, after he married my mother.”

  “Did she not like it in England?”

  Ethan took a deep drink of wine. Were the questions too taxing in that they brought up unpleasant memories?

  “My grandfather didn’t approve of my mother. She was an American, a Virginian, a commoner.” Bitterness laced his tone. “Grandfather went so far as to threaten to have the marriage annulled and wiped from history, except my brother, Darius, was soon to make an entrance into the world.”

  Fanella gasped.

  “As soon as feasible, after Darius was born, my parents returned to America and vowed never to return to England.”

  “It’s sad that he missed out on being with his brothers, unless they dinna approve either.”

  “My uncles were nothing like my grandfather,” Ethan assured her. “His Grace, Uncle Daniel, sided with my father, as did the other brothers, and insisted that he be happy. Further, they adored my mother. They didn’t want to see them leave but understood why they must.”

  Emotion welled in Fanella. Her siblings aggravated her to no end, but not to see them for years would be devastating. She’d not gone a day without seeing at least one of them. The only sibling that had been absent from her life for four years was Mary, but she was now home.

  “If yer father never returned, then ye never met yer grandparents.”

  “From what I understand, my grandmother was of the same mind as my grandfather, though had she disagreed, it wouldn’t have been allowed.”

  Fanella blinked at him. She had many disagreements with her family, though in truth, her older brothers tended to father more than brother, but that was because they’d lost their father when she was only six. However, they did listen if she had an opinion on a matter.

  “I don’t feel a loss for not having known them, my grandparents, since I know how they were.” He sipped some more, and so did Fanella. The wine was certainly enjoyable. More so with each sip, and her second glass was nearly empty, as was Ethan’s.

  “However, I would have liked to have met my uncles, besides His Grace. Two died before they married and Uncle John, like my father, married a woman grandfather didn’t approve of. He assumed her name and took up residence in Scotland, disappeared, and didn’t return to England until Grandfather died.

  “Disappeared? Is it a family habit to be disappearin’?”

  Ethan chuckled. “His brothers knew where he could be found and by what name he chose to use, but that information wasn’t shared with their parents. Uncle Daniel was the only one who married with approval and thankfully, it was a match Uncle Daniel wanted as well, otherwise he’d be as miserable as my grandparents apparently had been.”

  “Miserable?” Fanella drained the wine from her glass and held it out to Mr. Copeland to refill.

  “Grandfather was a duke. His wife, the daughter of a duke, both putting duty, expectation and their place in society above emotions for themselves or their children.”

  “He sounds much like my uncle,” Fanella admitted. “We dinna like him verra much, and he dinna like us.”

  “Who was your uncle?”

  “Uncle Chester, the Marquess of Brachton. He and his wife dinna have any children. My father was the spare.”

  Ethan nodded and finished off the wine in his glass.

  “He died after my father so my oldest brother, Lachlan, is now the marquess.”

  Ethan pulled back in surprise. “I don’t recall meeting him.”

  “He hasna arrived, and I’m not certain if he will attend,” she answered. “If he leaves his estate, he and Maddie may choose to travel to Falkirk and be with Mother and Mary for Christmas. Or they could decide to come here since Maddie’s mother is married to Donovan’s uncle.”

  “Who is this Mary?” he asked out of curiosity. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you and your brother weren’t very quiet in your discussion and I was standing near the door.”

  “Mary is my older sister.” She lifted her glass to sip then recalled that it was empty.

  Ethan reach for the bottle and frowned. “We drank it all.”

  How was that even possible? They’d not been here that long, had they?

  “Shall we try another?”

  Ethan looked down at her, his green eyes twinkling with mischief.

  Suddenly it was very warm in here. Though, that could be from the wine or the lanterns. “Do they always leave the lanterns lit?”

  “During the day and evening,” Ethan answered as he pulled himself from the floor. “They are extinguished each night.”

  “How do ye ken?”

  “I asked.” He shrugged and ambled away.

  Ethan stood and stretched before crossing the cell to retrieve another bottle, certain that His Grace would not mind, given the circumstances. Besides, Ellings had hundreds of bottles stored in four different cells. He might not even note that a few were missing.

  After uncorking the bottle, he returned to where he’d been sitting and settled beside Fanella and once again filled their glasses.

  She thanked him with a shy smile. Fanella was a lovely miss and Ethan found that he quite enjoyed sitting here, just the two of them. Though the urge to kiss her berry lips had increased since they’d first been locked in the cell, he ignored the desire just the same.

  “Tell me about Mary.” She was one of the reasons Ethan had followed Fanella in the first place.

  “She’s my older sister,” she said once again.

  Though he didn’t want to come right out and ask, it may be necessary to find out the truth. “You essentially said that you didn’t expect to see the day that Donovan married after what happened with Mary.”

  “Oh, that I did,” she laughed. “They courted once.”

  Ethan nearly choked on his wine.

  “Donovan even professed his love, or so I was told.”

  This time his stomach knotted. Was Donovan marrying Claresta because he couldn’t have the woman he truly wished as a wife?

  “Donovan and Mary have known each other since birth. Donovan took a likin’ to Mary and she him, and it was love, but not in a marryin’ kind of love. Mary rejected him and traveled to London for a Season. There she met and married Capt. Soares.”

  “Is that why Mary and her husband are not going to attend the wedding? Because of what she once shared with Donovan? You said she remained home with your mother?”

  Fanella’s smile slipped. “Mary is a widow, coming out of mourning. She lost her husband in the Battle of Waterloo. Mother remained back to be with Mary.”

  There were many widows as a result of that battle. And though he felt sorry for Fanella’s sister, it also meant that this Mary was now free to marry again. Was Donovan aware? If he were, would he forsake Claresta and return to his first love?

  As much as it wasn’t any of his concern, Ethan couldn’t let go of the fear of his cousin being hurt. He’d not known her until a few months ago, but Ethan had come to like Claresta very much and the last thing he wanted was for her heart to be broken, especially with her wedding day drawing near. “Has Donovan been carrying a torch for Mary since?” Would he carry it for the rest of his life? If so, what would that mean for Claresta, always being second choice.

  Again, Fanella laughed. “Nay. He realized that the love was one of companionship. I’m sure they would have got on well enough, had they married, but it wouldna have been the same as he has now.”

  “With my cousin?”

  “Aye,” Fanella sighed. “I’ve never seen Donovan look at a woman the way he looks at Lady Claresta, as if the world begins and ends with her, and that he’d rather die than go on without her. Eyes so full of love that he’d abandon everything just for her.”

  While Fanella was a bit of a romantic, and her descriptions were better suited for a novel, Ethan was assured that his cousin wasn’t a second choice but would be cherished by her husband.

  Bloody hell, now he sounded like a romantic, which he was not.

  Fanella’s stomach rumbled quite loudly and she placed a hand against her midriff as her face developed a rosy hue. “Goodness. It must be past suppertime.” She glanced back. “It’s a shame nobody can hear us from the kitchens.”

  The kitchens. Yes! Of course! The staff may not be able to hear them, but he knew who could.

  Why the blazes hadn’t he thought of it before?

  Chapter 6

  “Of all the girls in our town,

  The red, the black, the fair, the brown,

  That dance and prance it up and down,

  There's none like Nancy Dawson.

  “What are ye doin?” Fanella tried to shush Ethan. Yes, she wanted out of here and to be freed, but not by the entire kitchen staff.

  “I’m singing,” he stated the obvious before starting the next verse.

  “Her easy mien, her shape so neat,

  She foots, she trips, she looks so sweet;

  Her every motion’s so complete,

  I die for Nancy Dawson.”

  “Who is Nancy Dawson?” Fanella demanded and admittedly, a bit of jealousy started to brew in her belly, along with hunger, and she didn’t like it one bit.

  Ethan simply shrugged at her and grinned.

  “See how she comes to give surprise,

  With joy and pleasure in her eyes:

  To give delight she always tries,

  So means my Nancy Dawson.”

  His Nancy Dawson? A miss he knew in America? Then why did he shrug? Had he written the song, or did he learn it from somewhere else? Maybe Nancy Dawson wasn’t real at all. But if so, why the blazes was he singing about her, and so loudly. Though in truth, he had a lovely baritone and Fanella would be quite happy to listen to the richness of it again. But not while sitting on the dusty floor of a dungeon turned wine cellar.

  “Was there no task, t’obstruct the way,

  No shutter old, no house so gay,

  A bet of fifty pounds I’d lay,

  That I gained Nancy Dawson.”

  “Nancy Dawson. Click, click, Nancy Dawson. Squawk.” Fanella jumped and turned at the strange new voice only to find a grey parrot perched not far away.

  “Rogue, there you are,” Ethan cried as if he was seeing a long-lost friend.

  The parrot looked at Fanella. “Pretty lady.”

  Had she just been complimented by a parrot? “Rogue?” she asked.

  “Go find Connie,” Ethan instructed.

  “Find Connie,” the parrot returned and flew back up the stairs.

  All Fanella could do was stare at Ethan. How much wine had she drunk? Did too much make one hallucinate talking birds and such? Whisky never did so. Or, perhaps she’d never drank enough whisky. “Was that a parrot?”

  “Yes, Rogue,” he answered with a grin.

  “He’s yours?” Fanella asked slowly, still trying to come to terms with the fact that a parrot had come into the wine cellar and was now off to find Connie.

  “That he is.” Ethan pulled himself from the floor. “He goes everywhere with me, but parrots prefer warmer climates so when winter set in, the Cook and kitchen staff allowed me to put his cage near the fireplace, but away from food preparation, I promise.”

  “And he heard ye singin’ from down here?”

  “Parrots have excellent hearing,” he stated with confidence. “It’s his favorite song. We learned it from a sailor.”

  “So, you don’t know this Nancy Dawson?”

  “I’ve been told she was an actress at one time, but that could have been a fable. Not that it matters to Rogue.”

  “If he was in his cage, how did he get out?”

  “Rogue figured out long ago how to get the door to his cage open.” Ethan grinned, his green eyes twinkling with mischief. “Much like your talent for picking locks.”

  Her face heated at being compared to a parrot because of lock picking skills, even though her talents had failed her tonight. “Why hasna he flown off if he can get out?”

  “When he wishes to fly, he does, but always returns to his cage.”

  “You named him Rogue?” she asked after a moment. What an odd name for a bird.

  “Because he likes women,” Mr. Copeland grinned as if he was in very fine humor. “It’s probably the reason Cook and the kitchen staff aren’t bothered by Rogue since he tends to flatter and flirt.”

  “Does he call everyone lady? In England?” Goodness, she certainly hoped the bird hadn’t been in polite society at any time or several matrons would be quite upset. There was an order to peerage that was not to be ignored.