A Scandal In July by Kate Bateman & The Rake Review

A Scandal In July by Kate Bateman & The Rake Review

Author:Kate Bateman & The Rake Review [Bateman, Kate & Review, The Rake]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Rake Review
Published: 2024-07-02T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter Ten

Lenore was glad to climb down from the tower, and she and Rhys sneaked along the corridors, keeping an ear out for the other teams. When they reached the ground floor again, he led her through Trellech’s enormous medieval great hall, complete with minstrel’s gallery, and an astonishing assortment of gruesome-looking weaponry displayed on the walls.

“The four of us used to play with those all the time,” he said, noting the direction of her fascinated gaze. “We had our own tournaments. We’d dress up in the suits of armor and batter each other with swords and pikes and hatchets until one of us yielded, or until Nanny Maude called us to go wash our hands for tea. Whichever came first.”

“Didn’t Nanny Maude scold you for fighting?”

“Not at all. She thinks exercising the body is as important as exercising the mind. In fact, she even taught me a few moves. She’s a wily old bird. Much like your aunts Constance and Prudence.”

Rhys shook his head in wry recollection and Lenore smiled. It was clear he held the old retainer in high regard.

His smile faded a little. “I sometimes wonder if those innocent childish battles gave me an edge when it came to fighting in earnest.”

Lenore placed her hand on his arm, distressed by the sudden bleak look his eyes. “If they did, then I’m glad. Who would have given Gordon Burton a lesson in manners if you hadn’t made it back from France?”

His eyes flashed at the implication that didn’t wish his demise, and he smiled again. Her spirits soared.

She dropped her hand, and they moved into what was clearly the oldest part of the castle.

“The wine cellar wasn’t originally built for wine,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “It used to be the dungeons.”

He pushed open a heavy oak door studded with iron spikes, and a blast of cool air from below raised goosebumps on her arms.

Rhys took one of the lanterns that were hanging on a hook on the wall, lit it with a tinderbox he produced from his jacket pocket, and held it high.

The steps led down to a dark hallway lined with a row of cells, each with a metal grille set in the door and a tiny, barred window near the ceiling to let in a little fresh air and sunlight. Lenore shivered, clearly able to imagine how miserable it would have been to be locked up somewhere so inhospitable.

“Now, instead of storing Montgomery hostages down here,” Rhys said, a laugh in his voice, “—these cool, dank conditions are perfect for storing wine.”

The cellar opened out into a vast space, far larger than the feeble circle of light cast by the lamp, and Lenore sucked in an impressed breath.

A network of arched, vaulted stone was supported by a series of thick pillars, and between the pillars were rows upon rows of wine bottles, all stacked in tall, latticed shelves, stretching out into the darkness as far as she could see.

“That is a lot of wine,” she breathed.



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