Chapter Twenty-Two #3
After an hour spent composing a letter to Aberdeen with Robert, Deo left the duke’s study to return to the library and to face Em.
He had been very annoyed with her, but his temper had cooled in the intervening time, and he couldn’t rid his mind of the image of her hurt expression as he and Robert left her in the hallway.
He pushed the door to the library open and stood watching her work. She was seated at the trestle and working on a sketch of the now cleaned up shield boss and its outer ring.
All his love for her welled up, and he stepped into the room, determined to apologize for being a grumpy tyrant and try to explain why he reacted the way he did. She must have heard him, because she turned.
“Deo—”
He was shocked to see the redness of her eyes. She has been crying! I am a brute to upset her so! He crossed to her side and dropped to his knees by her chair.
“Em, I made you cry! I’m so sorry.” He took her hands and kissed them.
“No! I’m sorry I made you angry. I didn’t mean to, Deo,” she said quickly.
“My darling Em.” He took her in his arms and kissed her gently.
She leaned her head against his shoulder and said, “I confess I don’t completely understand what I did wrong.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, precisely.”
“You were annoyed with me.”
“Yes.” He stopped and took a breath. “It’s not your fault, Em. You’re so intelligent and well informed, I forget sometimes how young you are, and how much experience of the world you lack. The academic world is harsh, Em. You will be aware that I have a reputation of some standing—”
“Yes! You are well respected, a leading authority, in fact. That is one reason I was so flattered you were prepared to accept my application initially. I couldn’t believe my luck,” she admitted with a smile.
“I’ve built that reputation over years of careful and meticulous research.”
“Of course.”
“Don’t you see, Em? Claiming something so—so outrageous as a connection of any kind to King Arthur is—well, it will lay me open to all sorts of criticism. I could lose my reputation over it.”
“Oh. I see—even if the evidence is persuasive?”
“Even then, yes. It’s not incontrovertible, you see.
If it were, the situation might be different.
But the fact is there will be men who will shoot holes through the evidence we put up and try to take me down for it.
The field is competitive, and the barbs slung by opponents can be nasty.
Naturally, I’m protective of my own reputation, but I’m also protective of yours.
As a female it will be difficult enough to establish you as a respected authority in your own right.
This could ruin your chances before you are even established. I don’t want that for you.”
“Oh, Deo.” She flung her arms round his neck. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t understand.”
“I know, and I’m sorry I made you cry. I’m a brute to do that.
” He cupped her face and kissed her. “It’s not all doom and gloom, however.
Provided we manage this carefully, it could all turn out well.
Aberdeen’s support will be crucial. Robert’s support as patron will help.
He is known as a man of exemplary honor.
That will disarm any attempts to paint this as a money grab or a forgery.
Rob would never be party to anything shady, and everyone will know that.
And if we can pull it off . . . well, it may make, rather than break, your reputation.
” He smiled as her expression took on a look of awe.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. But we must be patient, Em, and practice rectitude.”
She nodded. “I promise, no more blurting things out!”
“Good.” He kissed her hair.
“What did you say to Lord Aberdeen?”
He reached into his pocket and extracted a sheet. “I thought you’d want to read it. This is the draft copy. It’s got the amendments we made scrawled on it, but you’ll get the gist.”
She read it and he added, “I didn’t mention you, not because I want to exclude you, but because I don’t want to prejudice Aberdeen before things even start, and I don’t know what his views on female scholars are.
If he’s set against them, it could damage our cause before it is even formulated properly.
When I can sound him out on the topic, I will know how to proceed to include you. ”
“Thank you, Deo,” she said, and her eyes glistened.
Alarmed, he said, “Don’t cry, Em. I can’t bear it when you cry!”
She sniffed. “I’m not, really!” She buried her face in his jacket and did cry, which had him patting and stroking her back and murmuring helpless words of comfort.
Fortunately for his equilibrium, the tears were short-lived.
He didn’t think he would ever get accustomed to female tears, certainly not Em’s anyway, especially if he was the cause.
He remembered vividly from his childhood an instance of his mother in tears and his feelings of helplessness to comfort her.
Not that she had wanted his comfort. She had told him to leave the room.
Why that scene came back to him now he didn’t know.
He seldom thought of his mother, and that particular memory wasn’t one he’d entertained in a long time.
But it went some way toward explaining why he found feminine tears so very hard to cope with.
At least Em did want and accept his comfort, as inadequate as it might be.
Em nestled her head into his shoulder and said, “Annis found me crying and she was so sweet, Deo. She said I should count her as a sister, because you and Emrys were as brothers. I’ve never had a female friend, let alone a sister. It was so kind of her. She is the loveliest person.”
“Yes, she and Emrys are well matched, for he’s the kindest man I know.
I’m glad she did that.” He squeezed her.
“Emrys, Rob, and Jerome are like brothers to me. The four of us would do anything for each other. It’s been like that since school.
You wouldn’t think on the surface that we had anything in common beyond the fact that we’re all gentlemen.
We don’t talk about it much; it’s taken as read. All for one, and one for all.”
“All for love?” quipped Em with a smile.
“Yes, all for love.” He kissed her again, she was irresistible.
A little while later, he said, “We need to do some work, Em.”
“I know,” she said, flushed and slightly breathless.
He reluctantly let her go and climbed to his feet. Turning away, he rearranged his breeches and headed toward the desk.
The rest of the afternoon passed in companionable accord.
Bidenden was back for dinner, and inevitably the topic of the Arthurian connection came up again, much to Deo’s annoyance. He recognized it was like trying to stem the tide, however. The topic was too enticing for people to leave it alone.
*
Bryson retired to his room early, claiming fatigue after his day in town, his mind buzzing with the dinner conversation.
He wished he had known about the Arthurian connection when he sent the letter to his broker.
He could send an addendum tomorrow. But given the potential value of the items, it became imperative that he secure them tonight.
By his calculations, Emily’s parents should arrive tomorrow, which would bring everything to a head.
His actions would be dictated by the outcome of that confrontation.
If he was lucky, his long shot would come off.
If not, he had this very nice cache of valuable items to fall back on, and the notion of wresting the money for them from his sire, all unbeknownst to the man himself, was a highly satisfying prospect.
He waited until the household was asleep before venturing downstairs to the library, bringing a pillowcase to place the items in for transporting them to the hiding place he had decided to use.
He left the boxes, taking only the wrapping.
If he took the boxes, it would be immediately obvious the items were missing.
It would buy more time if the thefts were not discovered immediately, he reasoned.
He had arranged with Kenrick for the two of them to go shooting first thing, and they wouldn’t be back until midday or thereabouts, which with any luck, should coincide with the arrival of Emily’s parents.
Confident of the hiding place not being discovered, he put into place his last piece of insurance. He had taken the belt buckle also, which was the least valuable of the showy items, but still looked valuable, particularly to the uninitiated, as it gleamed like gold even though it was only bronze.
His target for deflection was the gardener, Smiggens.
His conscience gave him a slight twinge over that.
The man had bandaged his ribs for him initially.
But needs must. It was his father’s fault.
If he hadn’t cut him off without a penny, all for a trifling debt of five thousand pounds and a bit of trouble over a lightskirt, he wouldn’t be forced to take such drastic steps.
But what was a fellow to do? He had to live on something.
He made his way to the storage shed that had a small cottage attached, that housed Smiggens and his grandsons. The shed was padlocked, so he turned his attention to the cottage. All was dark inside. He approached the door and found that it opened easily and, fortunately, quietly.
The first room was a quasi-kitchen cum sitting room.
Presumably, the rear room was the bedroom.
Sufficient light came through the window to illuminate the space, and the slight glow of coals from the banked fire gave off a faint glow and some warmth.
He listened for any sounds of the occupants stirring and heard nothing.
A table and three chairs dominated the kitchen space, and beyond it were a sofa and a storage chest that seemed to be doing double duty as a table.
He trod over to it and found that the lid lifted easily.
Inside were piles of linen. He slipped the buckle between the folds of the linen, closed the lid carefully, and with a fast-thudding heart, beat a hasty retreat out the door.
Returning to his room, he penned a further note to his broker and retired to bed, once again well satisfied with his night’s work.