Chapter Thirteen
T reasure!” Pan called out gleefully as he circled above their heads in the back room of the Black Sheep. The coffeehouse was currently closed to customers, and Alexander and Georgina had gathered there with the group who had helped bring down Viscount Hawley.
“You are certain that your brother and my father were talking about treasure?” Alexander asked, ignoring the parrot and focusing on Georgina’s recounting of the conversation that she’d overheard. Knowing that the damn betrothal caused her to be locked up made it hard for Alexander to listen. He wanted to fold her into his arms and protect her from any harm.
Yet, at the same time, he could not avoid the cruel irony inherent in his desire. His instinct to embrace Georgina perfectly suited his father’s and Craie’s schemes.
“Algernon spoke of a ‘veritable treasure,’ so there is a chance he meant metaphorically,” Georgina said. “I am more and more certain, though, that he meant an actual one.”
“You mentioned there was an upheaval during the week preceding the marriage discussion. You even spotted my father’s carriage then, too.” Alexander’s voice sounded intense, even to his own ears. “Do you think their meeting had something to do with a treasure?”
“I—I am not sure.” Georgina lowered her head and rubbed her temples. “At first, I thought it could be my helmet that they were referring to.”
“I am not precisely fond of Father, but I don’t see him kidnapping people, especially someone of noble birth,” Charlotte said. “It is not so much I believe in his goodness, but he would view such violence as vulgar.”
“Does that mean we need to discover a recent gentlemanly pilfering?” Hannah rolled her eyes. “Have the crown jewels gone missing?”
Mr. Powys leaned forward, somehow infusing the commonplace action with dramatic flourish. He regarded each of them with a pointed, pregnant look before he spoke in a hushed tone. “Actually, there is an interesting rumor that the coronation spoon has disappeared.”
“This is no time for theatrics or Banbury tales, Mr. Powys.” Calliope sent an uncharacteristic frown in the playwright’s direction. Since he was always chastising her for blitheness, she was probably only too glad to volley back the same criticism.
“I truly did hear murmurings about it.” The theater owner straightened, and his Welsh accent deepened.
“The spoon is one of the few objects that survived the Glorious Revolution. If it disappeared, it would be the juiciest news in the land—not some idle piece of gossip.” Calliope arched one golden eyebrow as if daring Mr. Powys to contradict her.
He happily accepted the challenge. “You may be from a high-ranked family with an impeccable Norman pedigree, but that doesn’t mean that you are privy to all royal secrets.”
“And you are?” Calliope retorted.
“One of the actresses at my theater has a sister who works at a certain kind of establishment that caters to royal guards, including those who protect the Tower.” Mr. Powys tipped back in his chair as if daring Calliope to gainsay him again. “Two of her clients were discussing the matter, and she overheard.”
“The Jacobite Rebellion may have been more than a decade ago, but its specter still haunts the king.” Sophia thoughtfully tapped her finger against her cup. “It does make a certain sense that he would keep the disappearance of the spoon a secret.”
“If the king even knows. The guards might be hoping to find it before anyone realizes it is gone,” Hannah added.
“I don’t believe Father would steal from the king,” Alexander broke in, afraid the conversation was getting further and further afield.
“The trinket is rather useless. You couldn’t sell it, and if you melted it down, the gold wouldn’t be worth much,” Mr. Belle pointed out.
“Can we please stop talking about a spoon ?” Georgina burst out impatiently.
The room immediately went silent—even Mr. Powys looked sheepish. Still, he tried to defend himself. “Well, it isn’t just an instrument for eating but for anointing—”
“I know what a coronation spoon is, and normally I would like nothing more than to discuss the details of an obscure antique object. But I highly doubt my half brother is skulking about with the Duke of Falcondale to pocket items from the Treasury. Frankly, Algernon has neither the imagination nor the intelligence for such a scheme. More importantly, I think the treasure has something to do with me.”
“Then it is the helmet after all?” Alexander asked as renewed concern whipped through him. Although he still could not imagine his father abducting the son of a duke over ancient armor, Percy had disappeared while in possession of the antique. Already, Algernon had imprisoned Georgina for objecting to a marriage that he and his father were masterminding. What danger was she in?
Georgina shook her head and then sucked in a deep breath. “While you were all discussing the coronation spoon, I was finally able to organize my thoughts. I own a bit of land, you see, where my pit is. Algernon has control of it as administrator of my father’s trust for me, but it is ultimately mine.”
“Does it have any value?” Sophia asked.
“Not much—at least I didn’t think it did,” Georgina said. “My father bought it for the interesting mounds. He always hoped something was buried in it—his own miniature Herculaneum. But other than that, the property is just a narrow strip with a modest country house. It does have a bit of sea frontage but only at the tip.”
“Do you feel differently about its value now?” Alexander asked, reaching for the top of his cane. Feeling the Nemean lion’s teeth bite into his thumb steadied him, giving him something to concentrate on other than his worry for Georgina.
“While searching the first barrow, my workers and I dug up many objects made from a strange gemstone with bands of pink, purple, aquamarine, and jet black. Even the helmet has pieces inlaid as ornamentation. I’d never seen anything like the colorful mineral until Lord Henry dropped his snuffbox and I saw the inside,” Georgina explained. “Then you said that your father owned a similar one.”
“That’s why you needed to see the box!” Calliope cried out. “You wanted to make sure it was the same material.”
“Yes,” Georgina nodded. “The coloration is identical. It must be mined from the same vein.”
Worry coursed through Alexander. “You’re thinking that the source of this gemstone is on your land.”
Georgina huffed out a breath that was half a laugh. “It does sound absurd now that I voice it—a hidden trove of pretty rocks on my minuscule strip of soil in Essex. But if such a deposit does exist, and Algernon knows about it, he would want it—but by the terms of the trust, the gems are mine.”
“But if you were to marry me, I’d have ownership—unless as part of the marriage settlement, it was agreed that your brother would get some rights to the minerals,” Alexander said as his father’s scheme with Craie became clear. He could picture his father helping another lord steal from a female relation if it meant securing a bride with impeccable bloodlines for his son.
Georgina jerked as if she’d just been splashed in the face with cold water. “Your words, they’re so close to what the men were discussing that I can hear them clearly.”
“Unfortunately, such a scheme does seem like something Father would be part of,” Charlotte said softly. “He is exceedingly medieval in his views of marriage. He would not regard it as stealing, but only as enhancing both families’ fortunes to a mutual satisfaction.”
“I agree,” Alexander forced out as old memories bombarded him, along with the guilt that he could not entirely escape.
“What exactly is this rock?” Mr. Belle asked. “And how valuable is it?”
“I am not sure,” Georgina admitted. “It reminds me of a stone that Pliny the Elder described in his Naturalis Historia , but this one is more colorful than the purple and white one that he mentioned. Whatever it is, it’s rare and pretty enough, especially when polished, that it definitely possesses some worth. It’s not a diamond, but it’s not fool’s gold, either.”
“Do you think their scheme has anything to do with Percy’s disappearance?” Sophia asked. “You mentioned that the helmet had the gem inlaid into it. Could they have been afraid that your antiquity would result in the discovery of their illegal mine?”
“Perhaps…” Georgina said slowly. “Though I am not sure how they would have learned about it. Algernon has no interest in antiquities, nor do his friends.”
“Neither does Father,” Alexander said.
“But Lord Percy did claim that it was Arthur’s,” Charlotte pointed out. “There could be rumors circulating about the helmet because of that. Mother especially could have heard due to the literary connection. Perhaps she mentioned it to Father at breakfast.”
“It’s possible,” Alexander agreed. His parents were barely companions, but they did engage in light conversation each morning—well, Mother did. The duke mostly concentrated on his customary soft-boiled eggs and kippers.
“Or it could be that the marriage scheme and your cousin’s disappearance are entirely separate matters. You went to Elysian Fields. Did you meet anyone there who you suspect stole the helmet?” Mr. Belle asked.
“A few. Lord Clifville mentioned that Lord Henry Talbot wanted to purchase it, but Percy refused. There’s also my father’s old rival, the Duke of Foxglen. He knew about the find, too,” Georgina said. “I’ve never liked him, and he did plagiarize my father. But purloining research is vastly different from ambushing a man. Foxglen isn’t physically able to attack my cousin, but he could have hired men.”
“Or sent his grandson Lord Malbarry,” Alexander added.
“Malbarry is known as Foxglen’s quiet shadow,” Calliope said.
“Foxglen and Malbarry did it.” Hannah punctuated her declaration by thumping her fist against the table in front of her. Alexander was used to his cousin being animated about her opinions, but she seemed even more intense than normal.
Everyone turned at Hannah’s outburst. Georgina even jumped.
“Goodness, Hannah.” Sophia gave her cousin a nudge. “There’s no need to startle us.”
“How can you be so nonchalant?” Hannah slammed her palm down this time. “It’s Foxglen who they’re talking about.”
“Just because our fathers suffered due to Foxglen doesn’t mean that he’s guilty.” Sophia gently patted Hannah’s arm. “And we know nothing about Malbarry. He wasn’t even alive when our fathers were caught poaching.”
“Foxglen illegally enclosed common grazing land, and our fathers’ family was starving. They had no choice but to poach, but Foxglen still had them deported to become indentured servants. If your mother hadn’t attacked their ship and let them join her pirate crew, they would have spent fourteen years laboring in the colonies for trying to feed their siblings.” This time Hannah waved her arms furiously instead of smacking the table. “We’ve suspected for a long time that Foxglen’s family’s wealth comes from something criminal. We just cannot figure out what.”
“My middle brother is just as vicious as my elder one.” Matthew broke into the conversation, his quiet voice a sharp contrast to Hannah’s boisterousness. “I could see him attacking Lord Percy if Miss Harrington’s cousin possessed something that Henry wanted.”
“As can I,” Alexander added as old memories once again sprouted up like a disgusting black fungus. “But like Sophia said about Foxglen and Malbarry, we cannot let past misconduct sway us. Pendergrast is missing, and there’s no time to chase old prejudices.”
“The only solid clue that we have is the snuffbox and its potential connection to your land,” Sophia pointed out.
“Perhaps I should try to find the source of the gemstone,” Georgina said. “The property isn’t that big. It won’t be hard to search.”
“If it is such a small parcel, wouldn’t you have noticed someone mining precious minerals?” Tavish asked.
“I avoid the headlands,” Georgina explained. “I live in Essex, after all, and it is not good for one’s continued health to be too interested about what is happening on the coast. But it seems like circumstances are compelling me to finally explore the cliffs.”
An image of Georgina marching into a cave filled with armed smugglers popped into Alexander’s mind. He wanted to protest, to tell her to stay safe in London at Estbrook House while he explored her property. But he didn’t.
In the spring, he’d ended up placing his sister in more danger when he didn’t include her in his plans to unmask the viscount. Revealing Hawley’s crimes had been Charlotte’s fight, just like this one was Georgina’s. But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t assist.
“If you’ll have me, I’ll accompany you,” Alexander said.
“We’ll all go,” Charlotte added, laying her hand over his.
Alexander glanced at his sister, and he could see the worry shimmering in her gaze. He understood it well, having felt it for her only months earlier.
Georgina shook her head. “I don’t think that would be wise. A large group would draw too much attention, especially in this part of Essex. My village is extremely clannish. Alexander has visited before with Percy. Although no one would confide in him, they won’t view his presence with as much suspicion.”
“Just the two of you alone would be dangerous,” Matthew added, looking just as concerned as his wife.
“If my brother and the Duke of Falcondale are the ones who ambushed my cousin, I cannot alert them to the fact that I have suspicions about the gemstones. They could hide evidence… or worse. I can only hope Percy is alive. If he is, I don’t want to trigger a panic that could result in his death.”
“She’s right,” Mr. Powys said.
Charlotte bit her lip and then reluctantly nodded. “I suppose it can’t be helped. But if you two have not returned to London within the week, we are all traveling down. You must also write to us each day. If I do not hear from you, I will follow.”
“We’ll be safe, Lottie. I promise,” Alexander said with more conviction than he felt. He couldn’t escape a sense of apprehension that had taken up an uncomfortable residence in his gut. He hoped that the trip to Essex would not prove to be a calamity.
The reason for the carriage ride might be ominous, but the day was otherwise lovely. A soft breeze countered the summer heat. Fluffy clouds—the perfect kind for make-believe dragons and puffy castles—dotted the otherwise blue sky. The hedgerows bustled with country life. The nesting song thrushes peeped out their cheerful, lilting tunes while fat hares full of clover slowly loped off the road at the sound of approaching hooves. Even the red squirrels seemed a bit lumbering, as if they were enjoying lazy, halcyon days before the hustle and bustle of fall foraging.
“I never thought a curricle ride could be so pleasant.” Georgina, who was dressed in her male attire, stretched her arms out wide. It was their second day of travel, and they’d just left the coaching inn, where they’d slept in separate rooms the night before.
In a basket secured to the back of the vehicle, Ruffian Caesar emitted a snort, as if he agreed with his mistress. Alexander couldn’t stop his lips from stretching upward, especially when Georgina’s hand brushed against his shoulder. He’d plastered on so many fake grins throughout the years that even he had trouble telling which ones were real and which were fake. But with Georgina, each smile was absolutely genuine.
“Oops.” Georgina yanked back her hand as if he were red-hot iron. “I do apologize.”
Alexander half expected her to put her fingers in her mouth and suck them… which was probably not the wisest direction for his thoughts to meander. His entire body already felt bombarded by a million pinpricks of light by her mere proximity.
“I’m not sorry.” Alexander didn’t try to stop the huskiness creeping into his voice. Whenever he had a moment alone in the past three days, he’d thought about their kiss. At first, they’d been so busy chasing clues that there hadn’t been time to mention their embrace. Then yesterday, he hadn’t wanted to bring it up in case it made her uncomfortable. But he did wonder if she daydreamed about it as much as he.
“Pardon?” Georgina asked, sounding confused at first. Very quickly, though, understanding flashed across her countenance. To his delight, she did not seem embarrassed. Instead, her mouth quirked into an expression that he could only describe as intrigued.
“About those last minutes in the ballroom. I don’t regret what happened. In fact, I very much enjoyed it. But I will understand if you regard it differently. If you do, I promise that I won’t mention it again.” Alexander spoke with a lightness that he didn’t feel, but he did mean his words. He wouldn’t pressure Georgina.
“I am the one who initiated the kiss. Why would I be opposed to discussing it?”
Alexander’s entire being froze and then suddenly roared gloriously back to life. “Just discussing?”
The tips of Georgina’s lips turned upward in a decidedly wolfish tilt. “I am amenable to additional explorations.”
A hearty laugh escaped Alexander, and he couldn’t help but lean over and buss Georgina’s cheek. When she whirled in his direction, he was already staring ahead and whistling.
“Incorrigible rogue.”
He started to chuckle, but then he felt her lips against his temple. When he turned in her direction, he found her looking at the road, humming her own jaunty little tune.
“Minx.”
“I am being one, aren’t I? I never suspected I possessed such potential.”
Georgina’s palpable pride caused warmth and something hotter to flow through Alexander. He wanted to pull back on the leathers and stop the curricle. He imagined securing the horses and heading to one of the copses of trees, far enough from the road for privacy. Or perhaps they could find an inn.
Or maybe he was the one needing to be reined in and not his matched set of bays. Yes, Georgina seemed keen on exchanging a kiss or two. But she was an innocent—an innocent who didn’t want to marry him and who lived at the mercy of her relatives. Alexander had to ensure he didn’t cross boundaries that should never be breached.
But that didn’t mean all amorous activities were entirely proscribed.
“You know, I did promise to teach you to drive a curricle.” Alexander leaned in Georgina’s direction and gave her shoulder a teasing nudge.
“Ohhh…” Georgina hung onto the sound, clearly realizing his ploy.
“That would require me to place my arms around you… like an embrace.”
“Hmm…” Georgina’s mouth pressed together in a perfectly kissable pout. “Is that so?”
“Very. We wouldn’t want to risk the team bolting.” Alexander lowered the timbre of his voice and nearly whispered the words in her ear. To his absolute delight, she shivered.
“Oh, yes. We must consider safety.” She pressed against him, almost leaning her head against his shoulder. He glanced down, and his heart simply stuttered at the desire shimmering in her brown eyes. It was a good thing that he was talented at the leathers and that his team was so well trained. If not, he might have crashed the carriage.
Before Alexander’s consciousness completely turned into nothing but mushy thoughts, Georgina straightened. Her impish expression fled, replaced by her more familiar thoughtful one.
“But would we not attract attention?” Georgina asked.
“This is a lonely stretch of the road,” Alexander pointed out. “And you’re small enough and your features soft enough that someone in a passing carriage might think I’m a father teaching his teenage son how to drive.”
Georgina still hesitated, and Alexander added, “I will take care with your reputation, Georgina.”
His promise seemed to satisfy her as once more she pressed her body flush against his. “Show me how to manage a team.”
As Alexander slung his right arm around her slim back, it struck him how good it felt just to hold her. It was madness, really. This need to be close.
“So you hold the reins like so,” Alexander said, adjusting her hands around the leathers. There was both an elegance and a strength in her fingers. “Keep a firm hand on the reins. Just enough pressure to let the horses know you’re there, but not enough to hold them back. Prospero and Caliban know what they’re supposed to do, but that doesn’t mean they always listen. Keep a close eye to make sure they’re keeping straight ahead and not slacking.”
Georgina sucked in one corner of her lip as she followed his instructions. She’d done the same when they’d wrestled at Estbrook house. Alexander found her ability to absorb new information absolutely fascinating. He wondered what it would be like to witness her writing one of her treatises—something he never would have imagined wanting to watch. Would she worry her lip the entire time?
Ten minutes later, Alexander was still fascinated by Georgina’s ability to concentrate on a task. He was even more taken with holding on to her. Despite the summer heat, it felt good to be pressed together as they crept along a straight stretch. Even the trees and tall hedges around them formed a green tunnel to guide the bays forward. It was the perfect spot for Georgina to drive the team without him hovering over her… but he didn’t want to let go. At all.
That, however, would be a disservice to Georgina. He’d promised to teach her, even if he’d been clear that the lessons were partially an excuse to embrace.
“Do you think you can control Prospero and Caliban yourself?” Alexander asked, before he could succumb to pure selfishness.
“Oh, most certainly,” Georgina said with utter conviction as she shifted away from him. “Do you think I’m ready?”
“Yes.” Alexander tried not to sound miffed that she didn’t seem at all reluctant to leave his side.
While he inched back toward his spot on the bench, Georgina practically shoved him away. His disgruntled feeling faded when he spied her joyful expression. It was patently clear that she was pleased with her ability to control the powerful team rather than be a mere passenger. Alexander knew exactly how she felt. After all, it was what compelled him to race curricles.
“This is a glorious day, is it not?” Georgina’s voice rang with a brightness that seemed to light up the dark places within Alexander.
“Yes. Glorious indeed,” Alexander said, but he wasn’t looking at the countryside. His entire being was focused on Georgina… which was perhaps why he missed the signs of danger.