Sapphires Are an Earl's Best Friend

by Shana Galen

  “Where are we going?”

  “I know a secret alcove. I suppose it was meant to be a crypt, but there aren’t any remains inside. If there is something my family wished to hide, this alcove is the perfect place.”

  She nodded. “But if what I seek is not there, I will not stop looking. Too many lives are at stake.”

  “Which is as good a reason as any to let my father be and pursue the real culprit. Come, let’s put this to rest.”

  She climbed the steps to the altar, and he offered his hand. She took it, her fingers cold in his. He led her to a room, a closet really, where vestments might be stored and where a visiting man of God might retreat to dress for a service. The room was barely large enough for two, and Andrew had to duck when he went through the arched wooden door. Inside it was dark and musty, and he held his lantern high. The gold chalice and plate set aside for communion glinted back at him, but he was more interested in the table upon which these items were laid. He moved toward the rectangular wooden furnishing and moved it aside. Behind it was a wall, but if he looked closely, he saw one of the large square stones in the wall could be removed.

  “Is that it?” Lily asked. She’d seen it immediately.

  “Yes. I think it was designed to hold remains—ashes, I suppose—or possibly to safeguard a valuable item.” He set the lantern on the floor, knelt, and struggled to fit his fingers into the grooves on either side of the block. This had been easier when he was a boy with small hands. And, he thought, if he had been a woman with small, dainty hands, the chore would not have been difficult.

  “And yet here sit gold communion pieces.” She gestured to the chalice and tray.

  “We’ve never had a problem with vandals or thieves,” Andrew said, struggling with the weight of the stone. “Until recently.”

  “Lucifer is not after your gold and silver plate. What he seeks is far more valuable to him.”

  Andrew grunted and finally slid the stone out. He pushed it aside and shone the light into the small alcove. First he reached for a large black velvet bag. He loosed the drawstring and pulled out a smaller bag. “Hold out your hand.”

  Lily cupped both hands together, and he toppled the ruby into her palm. It was half the size of her palm and shone darkly in the weak light. “A ruby as big as your hand,” she murmured.

  “Not quite. That was a bit of an exaggeration.”

  “Close enough. Are the other rubies inside?” She shrugged off his cape and laid it on the floor, placing the ruby from her hand reverently on top. He poured the other two from their respective bags, but there was another velvet bag inside.

  “Hmm. I don’t know what this is.” The bag was cinched tightly, but he managed to work a finger in and open the mouth. He shook it, and a handful of smaller gems fell onto the cape.

  “Sapphires,” Lily breathed.

  “I’ve never seen these. Are you certain they’re sapphires?” He lifted one. “This one is pink. This one is yellow.”

  “I’m not an expert, but I believe they come in different colors. Do you know when your father acquired these?”

  “No.” And it was troubling. He had never seen them before. And this was where his mother had hidden the jewels.

  “This in itself does not damn your father. The rubies were mentioned by several men involved in the assassination attempts. I can’t think who else would possess such large rubies, but if the Crown is to accuse a duke of such loathsome behavior, more evidence is required.” She was looking at the alcove, and Andrew knew that to put the matter at rest, he would have to ensure nothing else was inside.

  A sense of dread filled his chest as he reached back inside.

  And felt the papers.

  No. Please, no.

  He pulled them out and stared at them. They might be anything: baptism records, old documents pertaining to marriages, dowries, jointures. But they were not. The paper was not old or worn. He handed the stack to Lily. With practiced efficiency, she opened the first document and sighed. She turned it so he could see. On the paper were the names of five men, his friend Warrick Fitzhugh’s among them.

  But there was more. She handed him another sheet of parchment, and on it were lists of frigates and ships of the line, as well as an analysis of the weaknesses and strengths of each ship and its captain. More sheets detailed munitions and military orders, troop placements, vulnerabilities.

  “Even with Napoleon out of the way, Lucifer could sell this information for a tidy profit. If this were to fall into the wrong hands, it could be devastating. But I am confused. Your father sent me several pieces of correspondence when we were in Town. This is not his hand. I wonder if it is Lucifer’s.”

  Andrew swallowed. “That is not my father’s hand.” He knew it, though. He knew it very well.

  He watched, wordless, as she opened another document. Her eyes widened when she’d scanned the contents. “Artemis,” she whispered.

  Had he misheard her? He peered at the missive and the next she opened. Both were addressed to Artemis. He looked into her face and saw her gaze on him. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Is this the Artemis—?”

  “Yes. The assassin.”

  “Why would these papers be in our possession?”

  “Your father is Artemis.”

  Andrew stared at the proof of his family’s treason. Irrefutable proof. “I can’t understand it,” he murmured. “Why?” He shook his head. “I don’t believe it. There must be some mistake.”

  “I applaud your faith in me, Son.”

  Lily jumped, dropping the papers, and Andrew jerked toward the doorway. His father filled the opening, making the tiny room seem that much smaller.

  “Your Grace.” Andrew stood. “You have found us.”

  The duke nodded. “I knew she’d hidden them. I did not know where. You knew all along.” The duke glanced at Lily. “And you! I should have guessed you would be trouble. Something told me to stand clear of you, but I’ve always had a weakness for redheads. A weakness I see my son shares.”

  “If it wasn’t me, it would have been someone else. The Crown has suspected you for weeks.” She rose, defiant and unafraid. “We but needed the proof.”

  “If you are looking to send someone to the gallows, you are too late. I am not Artemis.”

  Lily lifted the documents. “These suggest otherwise.”

  “They would if they were intended for me. I was not Artemis.” He looked at Andrew. “Your mother was.”

  “You forced her into it. You gave her no choice!” Andrew dove for him, but the duke produced a pistol. Lily pulled Andrew back.

  “Believe that if you want,” the duke said, “but the evidence will prove my innocence.”

  Andrew tried to lunge again, and Lily held tightly. “He will use the pistol, Andrew,” she whispered then looked at the duke. “If the Duchess of Ravenscroft was Artemis, why have the attacks on the Diamonds in the Rough continued after her death?”

  “How was I to stop them?” the duke asked. “I went to London, but the plans were in motion.”

  “And you were in too deep. Better the Diamonds die, lest they discover your complicity.”

  Andrew shook his head. This was not true. It could not be true. His mother an assassin? His father a traitor? His head reeled, and he felt dizzy.

  The duke spread his hands. “She gave me no choice but to do as she bade me.”

  “Is that why you killed her?”

  “No!” Andrew protested. “It was an accident.”

  The duke kept his gaze on Lily, and Andrew’s blood chilled. He did not want to believe it. He could not begin to comprehend any of this.

  “I think you killed her because you were tired of living in her shadow,” Lily said. “I think you wanted the money for yourself.”

  The duke clutched his chest in a mockery of innocence. “What
would I gain from their deaths?”

  “The loyalty and the gratitude, lucrative gratitude, of those who would rather the elite spies of England not stand in their way.”

  Andrew shook his head. “How could you?”

  The duke stared at him, and Andrew felt as though a stranger were looking back. This man was not his father. Or perhaps it was his father, but he had never known the man. He had only created the man he wanted his father to be.

  “What do you know about it, little brat? You, who have lived a life of ease and privilege? How do you think your life has been possible? Do you think our family so different from that of other peers? We are bleeding blunt. That monstrosity of a house leeches pounds by the moment. And I was not going to be the duke who lost it all.”

  “No,” Lily said. “You would be the duke who turned traitor. A lovely story for your grandchildren. You must come with me.”

  The duke threw back his head and laughed. “Go back to the brothel you crawled out of, Countess. I’m here for the rubies and the rest of it.” He lifted his pistol. “And I will have what I came for.”

  Andrew pushed Lily behind him, a gesture she did not seem to fully appreciate. “Step out of my way!”

  But he stood firm, blocking her from skirting around him. In the small space, it was not difficult.

  “My son, ever the knight in shining armor,” his father said. “Your mother and I never understood you. You did not seem descended from either of us. Throw me the bag with the jewels. Put the documents in it as well,” the duke said, gesturing to the cape on the floor, where the rubies lay glittering. “And you two can go back to bed.”

  “Where will you go?” Lily demanded, still pushing at Andrew.

  “Somewhere your precious agents of the Crown will never touch me.” He motioned with the pistol. “Throw me the gems.”

  “No.”

  His father’s brows rose. “What?”

  “Those rubies are mine as much as yours—Emma’s and Katherine’s too. You’ll not take them for your own selfish means. If you want to run, run. I won’t stop you—”

  “Andrew!” Lily made another effort to push him out of the way.

  “But you won’t take what rightfully belongs to the duchy.”

  “You always were an arrogant little bastard.” He aimed the pistol.

  Andrew did not flinch. “You won’t shoot me. I’m your son.”

  “Move out of my way, or you’ll see just how deep my paternal affection runs.”

  Andrew saw the look in the duke’s eye was not to be mistaken. He would shoot. Then so be it. There were some things worth fighting for, worth dying for. He would stand here and protect Lily and his family legacy until he was laid in his grave.

  “No.”

  “Have it your way.” The duke cocked the hammer, and Andrew flinched. Misfire. Misfire. He closed his eyes and heard the shot ring out. At the last second, he was shoved violently aside and hit his hip hard on the table. He went down on one knee then roared with anguish, “Lily!”

  Eighteen

  She was lying on the cold marble floor, and she was not quite certain how she had landed there. She heard Andrew calling her name, fear in his voice. She was shaking with fear too, but she did not feel any pain. That might be a bad sign. If she had been shot and felt nothing, did that mean she was dead?

  But she couldn’t be dead. Her eyes were open, and she was rising to her knees, and she was staring at—“No!”

  The duke lay blocking the doorway, a pool of blood spreading from his skull. She crawled closer and saw the wound in the back of his head.

  “What happened?” Andrew was yelling. “Are you injured?”

  “I’m fine,” Lily said calmly. She rose to her feet, looking straight ahead and into the chapel.

  “Father!” He rushed to her side. He gasped when he saw his father and fell to his knees, cradling the man’s body. “No, no! I don’t understand.”

  But she did. She understood perfectly. And at that moment, Lucifer stepped into the doorway. “Good evening. I believe you have something that is mine.”

  “How long have you been waiting here?” Lily asked.

  “I’ve been watching the house, waiting for you to come to me.”

  “You might have been waiting all night.”

  Lucifer smiled. It was a charming smile on what would have been a handsome man—if his eyes were not so full of hatred and contempt. “Sometimes a man is lucky. Now listen very carefully, lord duke and lady slut. You will do exactly as I say. I want those documents and all the jewels. And then I want you to return to the house and bring me enough blunt to buy my passage to the Continent.”

  Andrew rose shakily to his feet. “You killed my father, you bastard!” His voice was full of anguish, and his clothes covered in blood, and yet he pushed forward and tried to move her out of harm’s way again. Lily stepped to the side and evaded him. When would he realize she had been trained for this?

  “Perhaps we ought to serve you a four-course meal as well, Lucifer,” she said. “This is ridiculous. Nothing could persuade me to meet your demands. You will be charged in the murder of the Duke of Ravenscroft, as well as the other crimes you have committed here and elsewhere. And all of that is nothing compared to the punishment you will receive for your treason.”

  “You are quaint, Lily. That is your name, is it not? I did nothing treasonous except possess sensitive information. It was stolen and sold, and I have done the Crown a service by recovering it. But no matter, as I will not be here to stand trial for any murders, because you will arrange a carriage for me within the hour.”

  “Why would we do that?” Andrew asked.

  Lucifer smiled, and Lily felt a chill run down her back. “Because if you do not, I will kill her son.”

  Lily blinked and felt herself stumble. Andrew was right behind her and caught her by the arm, steadying her. “That’s not possible. I don’t have a son,” she heard herself say. But her head was throbbing, and the blood rushed so loudly in her ears, her voice made her sound as though she were trapped in a well.

  “Lily.” Lucifer shook his head. “My dear Lily. Do you really think I am that much of a fool? Come, see for yourself.” He moved aside and gestured to the interior of the chapel. Lily swayed forward, but Andrew held her arm.

  “It could be a trap.”

  “To what end?” she asked, despair filling her as the truth became more and more apparent. “He needs us to escape—or at least you.” She was expendable, and so was her son. She would be kept alive only so long as she was needed to keep Andrew cooperative.

  As if in a trance, she followed Lucifer to the outer door of the chapel. It was slightly ajar, and the darkness pooled outside. He swung the door wide for her, and she held the lantern aloft. And began shaking.

  There was a small form on the grass, and the form was not moving. With a gasp, Lily rushed forward and knelt beside the boy. It was he. It was her son. Her hand hovered over his face, but she dared not touch him. His eyes were closed, and after a moment, she saw his small chest rise and fall.

  She turned to Lucifer. “What did you do to him?”

  “Nothing yet. He’s asleep and unharmed. I pressed a handkerchief dipped in tonic from an apothecary to his nose. He is not aware of any of this and, if you cooperate, he can wake up in his bed tomorrow morning.”

  Lily wanted to thank God for small mercies, but she did not believe Lucifer would allow her son to go free. They were all damned now. The man’s reputation and penchant for violence told her that much.

  “You!” Lucifer pointed behind her, and she turned to see Andrew standing in the light of the chapel. She had almost forgotten about him, but Lucifer had his plans. “Fetch me the contents of that hiding spot, and be quick about it.”

  Andrew’s gaze met hers, and he turned slowly to do the man’s bidding. Lily looked away
, back at her son. This might be the last time she ever saw him. She might be the reason he never grew into a man. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “So sorry. I never wanted this for you.” She reached out and brushed back a wisp of his hair. It was so much like her own color, and his complexion was pale, similar to her own. She had not been this close to him since he was a newborn babe, so she had not known he had a smattering of freckles on his nose or that his eyelashes were pale red. She reached out and touched his face, smoothing away a bit of dirt marring his beautiful skin.

  Lucifer had not lied. The boy was warm and unconscious. He was not dead. Under her fingertips, she could feel the life in him. And it seemed once she had touched him, she could not stop. She knew the night was cold and her knees wet where she knelt, but she felt nothing other than her child. Her son.

  She lowered her head to his chest, listening to his heart, hugging him to her. He no longer smelled like the sweet baby she remembered. He smelled of fresh hay and churned butter and of something all his own. She buried her head against him and closed her eyes. For this one moment, he was hers again. Hers alone, as he had been so long ago.

  “This is quite touching,” she heard Lucifer’s cutting voice. “But I really must be going.”

  Slowly, Lily rose from her son. It was an effort to tear herself away from him, but she reminded herself he was no longer hers. And only she could save him. She looked at Lucifer, noting Andrew had returned and handed the man the jewels and papers from the secret alcove. Andrew was watching her, his face drawn and haggard. He had lost both of his parents now, and he would very likely lose her as well before the night was over. But she could not let this end without telling him how she felt about him.

  “Carry the boy toward the stables,” Lucifer ordered Andrew. “Lily, my dear, you walk beside me.”

  They had little choice but to comply. For the moment. She would fight him, and she knew Andrew would never let the man who’d murdered his father leave the estate alive. She needed to think of a plan. Could they alert the grooms or someone in the house without putting a bystander in danger? Without endangering her son?