“As long as you can get us out of here, I’ll not breathe a word of this talent you possess.”

  Fanella moved to the door and knelt on the ground while she tried to maneuver the pins within the lock. This one wasn’t anything like other doors or drawers and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get the lock to release. Finally, she blew a curl out of her face and settled back on her heels. “I’ve never failed before.”

  “At lock picking or anything?”

  Fanella glanced up at him. “Lock pickin’ or most anythin’ I put my mind ta.”

  He raised an eyebrow before he wandered over to a shelf and began inspecting wine bottles.

  “Do ye fail, Mr. Copeland?” Fanella asked as she got up off the stone floor and brushed the dust from her skirts.

  “Only when matters or situations are out of my control.” He carried a bottle to her. “We had this for dinner last evening, I believe. It was quite good.”

  “Not that it does us any good right now.”

  Instead of commenting, Copeland disappeared around a rack. Curiosity had Fanella following him until he came to stop at a small table. Atop of it was a corkscrew and half a dozen glasses.

  “How very odd.” Who would want to drink wine in here?

  “His Grace enjoys sampling wines when a new shipment is received.” Mr. Copeland began to uncork the bottle. “After they are stored by region or country, he samples them. There are tables in each cell and he’s asked me to join him on a few occasions.”

  “The area beyond these cells is large enough that he could have a proper sitting area if he wished to be down here so often.”

  Mr. Copeland chuckled. “I’ll mention it to His Grace.”

  Though Fanella did enjoy a glass of wine with dinner, on occasion, it wasn’t something that she craved and she’d probably be quite content if she never drank wine again. However, Mr. Copeland had managed to remove the cork and was pouring two glasses so it would be rude of her to refuse.

  “How long do ye think we’ll be down here.”

  “That will depend on when anyone realizes that we are missing.”

  That could be hours, at least where her family was concerned, but she’d not dwell on that now.

  “We might as well get comfortable since we are going to be stuck in here.”

  Comfortable? It wasn’t like there were chairs.

  After handing Fanella a glass, Mr. Copeland took his and the bottle and made his way to the front of the cell. There, he set them on the floor before taking a seat, resting his back against the bars.

  Given the circumstances, she had little choice but to join him, as she didn’t want to stand until they were rescued, which could be hours.

  This was certainly a predicament. He was alone with a miss he’d just met and who knew when they’d get out of here. “It could be days before I’m missed,” he muttered aloud.

  “I’m certain yer family will make note of your absence at dinner.” Miss Grant attempted to assure him.

  Ethan snorted. “Aye, maybe Constance, but not the others,” Ethan decided. “They’re used to me disappearing and won’t think it odd if they don’t see me for hours.”

  “Disappearin’?” she asked in alarm. “Why do ye disappear?”

  “I cannot abide crowds, if you must know,” he admitted. “When there are too many people in a room, talking over each other, it becomes too loud to think. It’s one of the reasons I disliked London. Too much noise.”

  “Is it quiet where ye come from?”

  “New Orleans is not as quiet as Kentucky had been, but New Orleans isn’t nearly as loud as London, though when it is, it’s a different kind of noise, of people living and enjoying themselves.” Ethan smiled. “Life is more comfortable on the plantation than it is here.”

  “Kentucky is a state and New Orleans is in a different state?” she asked in a way that she wanted to make certain she was correct. Ethan was actually surprised she knew that much. Then again, the Battle of New Orleans hadn’t been fought all that long ago. Eleven months, and it was still fresh in Ethan’s mind.

  “Why did ye leave Kentucky for New Orleans? Did ye prefer it more?”

  Ethan took a deep drink of the ruby wine. “Our home was destroyed.”

  Miss Grant’s eyes widened and she took a drink of wine. “Destroyed? How?”

  “Earthquakes,” he answered and took another drink of wine.

  Her mouth opened and formed an “O” as her eyes widened.

  “Several earthquakes, actually,” he admitted. “Beginning in December of 1811 and continuing through February of 1812.”

  “How many were there.”

  “More than we could count, though I wondered if they ever really ended. However, four were strong enough to change everything.”

  “That must have been terrifyin’.” Sympathy filled her grey eyes.

  “We lived along the Mississippi and we were used to the rivers rising in the spring. However, the earthquakes caused land to cave into the river and water came in further than it had before. Some of our land sank as other portions rose. Trees tilted and others were uprooted…cracks developed in the ground. In the end, the house, barn and stable collapsed…the farm was no longer habitable.”

  “How horrible for yer family.”

  The anguish in her eyes reflected the anguish he’d felt within his soul by the time the rumbling had stopped and he was surrounded by devastation.

  “Your earthquakes are the same I read about a few years ago. Some said that the land shook as far away as Boston.” Fanella frowned. “However, I dinna ken the distance so it was hard to judge how large it was.”

  “The two were nearly two thousand miles apart.”

  “That is nearly four times the distance from Falkirk to London.” Fanella sipped her wine as if pondering the distance. “I ken America was large, I suppose I hadn’t realized just how large.”

  The side of Ethan’s mouth quirked. “It’s much larger but I’ve not been beyond the Missouri territory.”

  “If Boston is so far away, how long does it take to travel there?”

  “Usually six weeks.”

  Fanella blew out a sigh. “I willna complain about trips to London anymore.”

  Ethan chuckled. “We didn’t return very often. When we traveled, it was to New Orleans, or over to New Madrid, for trading.”

  She tilted her head and studied him. “Do ye think ye’ll ever go back? Do ye even want ta?”

  “I miss Kentucky. It was a good life, but even though there hasn’t been another earthquake, who is to say that it won’t happen again and what we build up won’t be destroyed once more.”

  “I’m verra sorry for ye, Mr. Copeland. I canna imagine such a loss.”

  The kindness and empathy in her grey eyes filled him with comfort. The earthquakes had begun four years ago, but he was surprised at how much her concern brought solace.

  Chapter 4

  Such devastation! Fanella didn’t know what she’d do had her family home been destroyed. Not only the home, but land as well. What would her brothers do if they were forced to rebuild and start over?

  As horrible as she was imagining those circumstances, she was also quite certain that it was worse than she could ever conceive. “Had ye been to New Orleans before ye decided ta move there?”

  “Several times.”

  Intrigued, Fanella turned more fully toward him and Ethan refilled her glass.

  “Why did ye travel to New Orleans so often?” Fanella was certain it was far more fascinating than traveling to London. In fact, their entire conversation had been interesting so far, even though she wished he’d have been spared the pain of losing his home.

  “Trading. We often sailed the Mississippi river with grains, skins, furs, all manner of items for trade and sale,” Mr. Copeland answered. “We knew the area and our mother was hopeful that by living in a more populated area her children might finally marry.” He laughed.

  “Did ye have no neighbors?”

  “Our closest neighbors were miles away. Everyone who had settled in our part of Kentucky owned vast amounts of land that was farmed and hunted. We also fished and were self-sustaining.”

  “Fished?” Fanella asked with excitement.

  He pulled back in surprise, but he still smiled. “Do you enjoy fishing, Miss Grant?”

  “Aye.” She sighed. “It’s the most relaxin’ thing ta do outside of readin’.” At the confession, Fanella felt her cheeks warm and she quickly took another sip of wine. Her brothers had warned her not to confess her enjoyment of fishing to a gentleman since proper misses did not participate in such activities. Would Mr. Copeland consider her improper now?

  “I could spend hours along the Mississippi or at the large lake on our farm. My sisters, however, thought fishing to be disgusting.” He laughed. “That didn’t stop them from enjoying the fish at dinner, however.”

  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 stop into 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 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.