Romancing the Earl

by Darcy Burke

  Lord Norris’s stone-blue eyes hooded briefly. “Forgive me, Miss Bowen. I am merely trying to understand this situation, now that I know my brother’s ramblings were true. There was a treasure map, which someone tried to steal, and which Matthew subsequently hid. And then he died. I have no proof it wasn’t an accident and yet I am suddenly struck with the troubling apprehension that it was not.”

  Troubling was perhaps an understatement. “You think someone killed your brother because of the map?”

  “I don’t know. But I find the timing of these incidents disturbing.”

  The back of her neck chilled with dread. Despite what she’d told the earl, the treasure she sought was extremely valuable and desired by many. Perhaps even by those who would resort to violence to obtain it. That thrust her quest into a new light, one she would discuss with Grey later.

  She glanced at her companion, who gave her a subtle nod of encouragement. Squaring her shoulders, Cate returned her attention to Lord Norris. “What do you intend to do?”

  He tipped his head to the side. “I’m not certain, but I’ll make some inquiries. It’s neither here nor there, however, as it doesn’t affect you. Unless you are somehow involved?” He peered at her with a hint of suspicion to his gaze.

  She fought to keep herself from becoming angry. The man had lost his brother . . . over a year ago, but it was still a loss. “I am absolutely not involved. This is the first time I’ve tried to purchase the tapestry. I only recently learned it was a map.”

  He leaned back in his chair and contemplated her for a long moment. “A map to an historically-important, but not valuable, treasure. My brother indicated to the contrary in his letter. He said it was incomparably valuable. Yes, I believe those were the words he used.”

  His tone and the gleam in his eye said he knew she’d lied before. Or, more accurately, misled him.

  More vexing than his annoyance, however, was the fact that others—at least his brother and whomever had tried to purchase it—were aware that the tapestry was a treasure map. Cate should be one of very few people with this knowledge, which she’d uncovered without intellectual assistance. She planned to find the treasure the same way, though she would require Grey’s help with the logistics. Then she would surprise and impress the antiquarian world with her astounding discovery.

  “I apologize for misleading you, but this is an important artifact. Yes, I suppose the treasure might be considered valuable but I desire it for its academic worth. Did he say what the treasure was?” She held her breath waiting for the answer.

  And she had to wait, because Norris was taking his time, likely weighing how much to divulge. She wanted to demand complete honesty in exchange for the same, but she couldn’t do that. Not right now. Maybe not ever.

  “No,” he said finally, causing her to exhale softly. “His letter did not reveal the nature of the treasure, nor did he mention the fact that the map was a tapestry. He wasn’t very good with details.” Norris’s tone was resigned. “As I said, he had a tendency to be fanciful, which is why I discounted the entire letter as a drunken farce. He was also fond of playing jokes in our youth, and I wondered if this might be an adult version of the same.”

  She could feel the tension between the brothers as if the previous Lord Norris were in the room with them. Though she’d just made this Lord Norris’s acquaintance, she would wager he was very good with details. His pale blue eyes were alert, intelligent, which made him exceptionally attractive—to her. She was far more impressed with a man’s intellect than his appearance, although Lord Norris certainly boasted a handsome exterior as well. He was perhaps the tallest person she’d ever met—standing well over six feet and taller even than Septon—and held himself with the sharp, imposing bearing of an officer. His blond hair kept him from looking completely fierce.

  She internally shook herself. Now who was being fanciful? “Did the letter mention who the potential buyers were?”

  He frowned. “Unfortunately, no. Pardon me for repeating myself, but he wasn’t good with specificity.”

  “And you have absolutely no idea where the tapestry might be hidden?” He’d said as much, but she had to consider the possibility that he was lying. Except he’d declined knowing its whereabouts before he’d learned it was a map to a valuable treasure.

  “I do not. And that is the truth—on my honor.” His stare was direct, and she could tell his honor was very important to him. She couldn’t help but believe him. “So, you see, I can’t help you.”

  Believing him didn’t ease her frustration, however. “You mean you won’t help me. He didn’t destroy the map; you said he hid it. What is hidden can be found. That’s what we antiquaries do. And I am a skilled antiquary.” She scooted forward on the settee. “I should be delighted to help you find the map, and I’ll still pay you two hundred pounds for it.”

  He chuckled softly and like his earlier laugh, it was a warm, delicious sound that caressed her senses. “You’d give me the benefit of your skill free of charge? How magnanimous of you.”

  His sarcasm nearly provoked her to laugh in return, but she didn’t. She needed to keep her mind on the task at hand—obtaining the map before someone else did. “I won’t pretend I don’t have a vested interest in finding this map. You already know I want it and I’m willing to pay a tidy sum. Your lack of desire to help me is most baffling.”

  “Desire?” His eyes were cool, but there was something burning in their depths—it gave her that same icy-hot feeling as after she’d spent too much time outside in the snow as a child. “What I desire is to learn how you know this tapestry is a map or that it leads to treasure—a treasure you have yet to reveal, I might add.”

  This was a complicated chess match. Neither of them wanted to share too much, but they each had to give something in order to obtain a sliver of information. She sent a conspiratorial glance at Grey, who again nodded in support.

  “Have you ever heard of the sword Dyrnwyn?” Cate asked.

  His forehead creased. “Should I have?”

  “It is also known as ‘white-hilt’ or the Sword of Rhydderch Hael. It is one of the thirteen treasures of Britain. Surely you’ve heard of those.”

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  “They are ancient artifacts of Welsh origin, perhaps even magical in nature.”

  “Magical?” he asked in disbelief. “It sounds like a myth. Like Arthur and Excalibur.”

  She ought to have expected him to be dubious. Anyone outside of the antiquarian world would be. “It’s exactly like Arthur and Excalibur. Dyrnwyn belonged to one of his knights. There are many documents that purport the existence of all of these things.”

  He looked unconvinced. “There are many documents that proclaim a virgin bore a child, but I don’t believe those either.”

  Grey let out a decidedly unladylike snort. Cate threw her a suffering glance. “That’s rather blasphemous, isn’t it, my lord?”

  “I’ve spent the last several years in a rather blasphemous place. You must forgive me,” he said unrepentantly. “You think this tapestry map leads to”—he paused a moment—“Durnwin?” He did a fair job of pronouncing the Welsh name.

  “I’m confident it does, yes.”

  “And this confidence is based on what? What is your evidence that this is a map leading to Dyrnwyn?”

  She borrowed his tactics for evasion. “Forgive me if I don’t disclose that information. It would spoil the academic paper I plan to publish.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “You think I might steal your ideas? I assure you, I have no academic designs on your research. Or whatever you call it.”

  She scowled at him, her anger rising. As a female antiquary, she fought against prejudice. This quest would give her the credibility and respect she deserved. Her gender ought not matter to the antiquarian community, but women were not admitted to the London Natural Society of Antiquities, nor were they allowed to present their ideas. “And I assure you, my research is sound. My fa
ther, Mr. Rhys Bowen, is a renowned scholar in the realm. His personal library of medieval manuscripts is unparalleled. Many of his documents appear in the Ashmolean Museum, where my brother works.” She was, unfortunately, quite used to invoking her father and brother’s names in order to recommend her own integrity. It was, overall, a galling circumstance.

  Norris lifted a shoulder. “A fine pedigree, I’m sure, but you must understand that all of this means next to nothing to me. I’ve inherited an apparently remarkable collection of antiquities, but it may as well be a warehouse full of farming implements. On second thought, such tools would perhaps be more useful.”

  Cate tried not to gape at him. “I assure you that your collection of antiquities is far more important and at least more valuable than farming implements.”

  “I shall have to take your word for it. As a skilled antiquary.”

  She couldn’t tell if he was being facetious, but her ire was fully pricked now. “I’ve been searching for Dyrnwyn for years. I’ve pored over every document I could get my hands on, and I recently found one that indicates the tapestry is a map that leads to the sword depicted upon it.” She was revealing far too much, but he’d called her abilities into question.

  His eyes rounded briefly. “That’s your evidence? Unless the document was written by King Arthur himself, I’d say it’s ambiguous at best.”

  She worked to keep her tone even. This was precisely why she hadn’t shared her theories with anyone besides Grey. Not that her brother and father wouldn’t have listened to her with considerably more interest and credulity than Lord Norris. But she hadn’t told them because this was going to be her discovery. Hers alone. “The document was authored by a reliable medieval source—Edmund de Valery. Perhaps you’ve heard of the de Valery manuscripts?”

  His blank stare said he hadn’t.

  She charged forward, warming to her topic. “They’re a pair of books by a medieval scribe detailing stories of one of the Knights of the Round Table—Gareth—as well as other tales involving Arthur and his knights. My mother owns one of the manuscripts, so I’m quite familiar with de Valery’s work. I immediately recognized that his hand had created the document regarding the tapestry.”

  “I’m sure it’s fascinating. I can see that you’re quite passionate about the subject.” His tone suggested a but. “However,”—and here it came—“you’re using a document written by a storyteller as your ‘evidence.’ Pardon me if I remain skeptical.”

  Cate was used to opposition and refused to let his bother her. “More like bull-headed,” she muttered. She inhaled deeply and tried again. “My father has a poem—a copy, actually—written by a sixth-century scribe who was a contemporary of Gareth. He documented the exploits of Arthur and his knights and their acquisition of the thirteen treasures of Britain, one of which is a sword: Dyrnwyn. That this information was recorded during or shortly after their lifetimes is proof enough for me. I’m afraid I can’t offer you a birth or death notice for any of them, but perhaps you’ll credit my research instead.”

  He listened to everything with apparent interest, but she couldn’t be sure what was going on behind his distractingly attractive eyes. “If proof exists that Arthur actually lived, why hasn’t that been publicized? Or did I miss that while I was in Australia?”

  That was actually a question she shared. She’d found the poem hidden away in her father’s study and since he openly shared all of his documents, she had to imagine he’d kept it secret for a reason. Even from her. “I don’t know, but I don’t see how that matters.”

  “So you say, but perhaps your father’s poem isn’t authentic. You did say it was a copy. It could be an outright fabrication.”

  In her father’s handwriting. He would never contrive such a thing. The normally tight control she kept on her temper snapped. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, you are an infuriating person, aren’t you?”

  His brows shot up briefly. “In fact, I have been accused of that on occasion. Just ask my mother,” he murmured. “My apologies. I am only trying to ascertain the facts. Like you, I prefer evidence and logic.”

  That he recognized her as a logical mind soothed her ire considerably. She inclined her head. “Indeed. Please take my word that this poem authenticates the knights’ existence. Would it help to know that one of the thirteen treasures has already been found—that it’s in the Ashmolean Museum?”

  She held her breath, hopeful that she’d finally broken through his stubborn skepticism.

  He exhaled softly. “Miss Bowen, I sympathize with your plight, but I am, quite frankly, too busy in my new role to provide assistance. I’m afraid you’ll have to conduct your quest elsewhere.” He stood.

  She scrambled to her feet, frustration rioting through her. She cast a glance at Grey, who glared daggers at Lord Norris. “My lord, if you would only let me search the estate, I promise I won’t be a bother.” At his incredulous look, she rushed to add, “And of course, I would notify you the moment I found it. I shan’t take the tapestry away from Cosgrove without your knowledge.”

  “Steal it, you mean? How comforting. Perhaps I failed to mention that my brother indicated in his letter that the map was no longer at Cosgrove.” He massaged the bridge of his nose with this thumb and forefinger. “Miss Bowen, I have many business matters to attend. I do thank you for stopping by.” He turned his body so that the angle indicated a clear path to the door.

  Cate gave Grey a resigned look and strode toward the door. “Thank you for your time today. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “Indeed. Garber will see you out.”

  The butler appeared and showed Cate and Grey to the door. Cate held her head high and tried not to be discouraged.

  And failed miserably.

  Chapter 2

  Once they were outside, Cate tightened the ribbons of her bonnet and tossed a glare at the imposing façade of Cosgrove. “What an imperious, arrogant man.”

  “He’s a major and an earl. What did you expect?” Grey asked.

  “I was hoping for someone more . . . amenable.”

  They turned and strolled down the drive. It was only a two-mile walk back to Bassett Manor and neither one of them was a stranger to exercise. In fact, they enjoyed it, particularly Grey, who was fond of all manner of manly pursuits, such as boxing, riding astride, and swordplay. She was also a crack shot and had taught Cate to fire a pistol with considerable accuracy.

  “It wasn’t a pointless errand,” Grey said, her long stride demanding that Cate walk briskly beside her. “You at least learned that the map is hidden somewhere and not simply lost.”

  While that was true, Cate was disappointed Lord Norris wasn’t going to be of assistance. “It may as well be. It could be anywhere. The former Lord Norris sounds as though he was a featherbrain. Who knows what he might have done with the tapestry?” The notion that it was gone forever made her stomach turn.

  “This may not be the only way to find the treasure. Perhaps there’s another clue.”

  Cate appreciated Grey’s optimism. She always tried to find a way around things—it was one of the traits that had drawn them together when Cate had been just twenty. She’d been traveling with her parents and wanted to sneak out of the inn to see a bawdy play. She’d almost made it when she’d run into Grey who’d been working at the inn as a maid. Instead of turning Cate in to her parents, Grey had helped her to escape and they’d gone to the play together. After that, Cate had convinced her parents to hire Grey as her personal maid. “And how would I find this supposed clue?”

  “Back in Lord Septon’s secret library would be a place to start,” Grey said with a touch of irony.

  Where Cate had found the document about the tapestry being a map in the first place. Septon, a close friend of her father’s, was one of England’s premier antiquaries and had taught Cate much of what she knew about antiquities. If Lord Norris thought Cosgrove’s collection was overdone, he’d be completely overwhelmed by Septon House. A veritable museu
m, it also contained Septon’s secret library, which Cate had seen once as a child.

  After Cate had found the poem in her father’s study, she’d renewed her quest for information about the thirteen treasures, particularly Dyrnwyn. She’d thought of Septon’s library, and she and Grey had contrived to find their way inside. “You’re willing to sneak back in?”

  Grey shrugged. “Getting the key was the hardest part, and I can do that again.”

  Cate wasn’t even exactly sure how Grey had obtained the key. She’d asked, but Grey hadn’t ever directly said. Cate had long ago learned to trust Grey to do what needed to be done. “Yes, but will I be so lucky in finding something a second time? Assuming another clue even exists.”

  “I think you can find anything you put your mind to,” Grey said.

  Cate appreciated her companion’s confidence. It was nice to know that at least one person in the world believed in her completely. “Norris knows more than he’s saying.”

  Grey glanced at her as they crested a small hill. “You want another crack at him.”

  “I do.” Cate’s boots scraped over the dry earth. The day was warm, and perspiration gathered at the small of her back. “It should be easy to persuade Miranda to host a dinner party and invite Lord Norris.”

  “Certainly. Lady Miranda is always eager to entertain.”

  Cate’s hostess was also Septon’s goddaughter and, as such, an old friend of Cate’s. Unlike Cate, however, she’d been raised a Society miss and though she’d come to adore life in the country, she never missed an opportunity to open up her home. And Cate knew Miranda was looking for a reason to invite the new Lord Norris to Bassett Manor. “My thoughts exactly. I’ll speak to her as soon as we get back.”

  “What do you think Norris is hiding?” Grey asked.

  “I can’t believe that he has no idea whatsoever about where to look for the tapestry. I think it’s fair to assume he was genuine in his surprise at learning his brother’s claim was true—that there is a map to a treasure. And I think it follows that he’s now considering all he’s learned and perhaps trying to determine where it could be.”