by Darcy Burke
She nodded. “We’ll meet you there.” She turned her horse and looked over her shoulder at him. “How else am I to help you discover the circumstances of your brother’s demise?”
She had a point. She was the best chance he had for his investigation given her experience in the antiquarian world, and for that reason alone he would suffer her company.
Suffer? Was it really a hardship?
He frowned as he watched her ride to her companion and then the two of them galloped away. No, it wasn’t a hardship; it was vexingly . . . interesting. Damn, there was that word again. She was also charming, intelligent, and attractive enough to be a hazard to his bachelorhood.
With a muttered oath, he turned Devon about and rode back toward Cosgrove. He was a bloody earl and he had no interest in finding a countess. What’s more, he didn’t need to. He had an heir—a distant cousin. Two heirs, actually—that cousin’s son was nearly twenty.
Elijah had long ago decided a wife wasn’t necessary. Becoming an earl hadn’t altered his opinion one bit, and neither would the dangerously captivating Miss Bowen.
“Cate!” Lady Andromeda Spier stood from her favorite chair in her sitting room in Sydney Place in Bath, her full lips spreading into a warm smile. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She came forward and hugged Cate, then turned to Grey and did the same. “And you too, Grey. Come, both of you, sit. Blessing will bring tea before we go in for dinner.”
Indeed, the butler had already disappeared from the doorway, to be replaced by Andy’s younger sister, Cassiopeia. Her red-blond hair was loose around her shoulders as usual, and her gold spectacles were perched on her nose somewhat askew, also as usual. “Cate, Grey, what a lovely surprise.” More reserved than her sister, she didn’t come toward them, but she reciprocated the hug Cate offered.
“I hope it’s not too much of a surprise. I did send a note ahead,” Cate said, untying her bonnet. In truth, though, she’d just dispatched the letter yesterday after her horseback meeting with Lord Norris.
“Not at all,” Andy said, resuming her seat in the floral-patterned chair situated near the gilt-edged fireplace. “We always love your spur-of-the-moment visits. Your note said you would explain the purpose when you arrived, so do sit down and tell us why you’ve come.” Andy leaned slightly forward, always eager for information.
Cassie took the chair near her sister’s, while Cate and Grey arranged themselves on the generous settee facing them across a low table.
Cate removed her bonnet and drew off her gloves, setting both on the settee beside her. She always behaved as if she were at home when she visited Andy and Cassie. “I wish Selina was in town.” Selina Ashcombe was the fourth and final member of their group.
“As do I,” said Andy, “but she’s still in Scotland with her husband. I received a letter from her a couple of days ago. She’s made some excellent discoveries.”
“I should love to read it.” Cate knew she probably had a similar missive awaiting her at home, but right now she wasn’t sure when she would be back in Wales.
“Shall we call the meeting of the Ladies’ Antiquities Society to order?” Cassie asked, looking between them.
“Informally,” Andy said. “There’s no need to record our activities.” She snapped her gaze to Cate. “Is there?”
“I don’t believe so. Not yet, anyway.” These women were the only people aside from Grey who knew of her determination to find Dyrnwyn. “Unfortunately, I don’t have much to report. Lord Norris is not in possession of the tapestry. Furthermore, he says he has no idea where it is.”
Cassie frowned. “Your note said you were coming to Bath as part of your quest. I took that to mean you were on the hunt?”
“Norris’s mother lives here—Mrs. Hollister, if you’re acquainted with her. It’s possible his brother hid the tapestry at her house.” Cate hoped that was the case, but had to admit to feeling more than a bit of trepidation. “He’s not terribly keen on helping me. In fact, the only reason he’s sharing information is because he’s on his own quest to determine if his brother’s death was accidental or somehow related to the tapestry.”
Andy’s eyes widened. “Does he really think so?”
“He’s suspicious.” Cate fought back a smile as she recalled the list she’d crafted with “suspicious” at the very top. Or maybe it should really be headed with “infuriating” . . .Or “bone-meltingly attractive.” When had that joined the list? “His brother died in a carriage accident after several parties sought to purchase the tapestry and someone attempted to steal it.”
Andy leaned her elbow on the arm of the chair as she pitched forward with unabashed interest. “Indeed? Does Norris suspect murder?”
He hadn’t used that word in particular, but the suggestion had been there, just beneath the surface. “I’m not entirely certain, but it seems so, yes.”
Andy settled back in the chair, her expression contemplative. “I don’t like this one bit. Are you sure you shouldn’t just give up on this entirely?”
“She can’t,” Cassie said crossly, her eyes tossing daggers at her sister. “And she shouldn’t have to.”
“No, I’m not overly concerned yet,” Cate said. “To be honest, I’m not sure how much I trust Norris. Our goals aren’t in alignment—I want to find the treasure and he wants to investigate his brother’s death.”
“But you believe him when he says he doesn’t know where the tapestry is located?” Andy asked, her pale brows slashing low over her gray eyes.
“Yes.” She also trusted that he was eager to learn the truth about his brother’s alleged accident. “He’s asked me to help him try to identify the men who came to Cosgrove to purchase the tapestry.”
“I see,” Andy said. “Given your contacts in the antiquarian world, it makes sense that he would. At least he isn’t stupid.”
No, stupidity was definitely not one of the attributes she’d add to her Norris List.
Cassie cleared her throat and adjusted her spectacles, settling them straighter on her nose. “How does he even know these men are from that community?”
Grey scooted slightly forward as she addressed the question. “When Cate inquired about a tapestry, the current Lord Norris had no idea what she was talking about. However, when she said ‘treasure map,’ that garnered his attention. His brother wrote him a letter that mentioned a map, not a tapestry.”
Cassie sucked in a breath and exchanged excited glances with her sister. “How would his brother have known it was a map?”
“Those men likely told him,” Cate said. She and Grey had discussed this countless times. How had those men known the tapestry was a map? Was Cate mistaken in believing she’d stumbled onto some centuries-old secret when she’d found that de Valery document in Septon’s hidden library? Were there a number of antiquaries who were already aware that the tapestry was a map to Dyrnwyn?
Andy tapped her chin with her forefinger then stopped abruptly as Blessing entered with the tea tray. They all fell silent while the butler set everything out on the table. With a nod, he departed, knowing they preferred to pour out themselves and, more importantly, that they preferred privacy. The business of the Ladies’ Antiquities Society was for their ears alone—and Grey’s, as she was an adjunct member.
Grey, also adept at serving tea—really, there was very little she couldn’t do—poured and doctored everyone’s cups according to their taste.
Once everyone had their tea, Andy finally spoke. “For a long time now, we’ve suspected that Septon has been involved in something more than just hunting for antiquities. We know he has a singular passion for Arthurian artifacts. He’s known that this tapestry was a map—he had to have, since he was in possession of the de Valery document regarding the tapestry—and he also knew it was in Norris’s possession. He’s been a frequent guest at Cosgrove over the years.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Cate said. She set her tea down without taking a drink because her insides had pitched into an anxious riot. “It seems
an unlikely coincidence. I’m afraid Septon must be involved somehow, and I’m even more afraid Dyrnwyn might already be found.”
“And yet we’ve heard nothing about it.” Cassie shook her head. “No, if it was found, we’d know.”
Cate didn’t agree. “What about the Anarawd poem in my father’s library? The one that all but confirms Gareth and his contemporaries, including Arthur, actually lived.” She’d shared this information with them when she was last in Bath a few weeks ago, just before she’d worked her way inside Septon’s secret library. “I had no idea it existed until recently. My father kept it secret for some reason.”
Andy’s gaze turned shrewd. “And your father is known to work closely with Septon on occasion. As I said, I think Septon has other objectives beyond just finding antiquities.” Andy sipped her tea.
Cate wasn’t sure she agreed, and she couldn’t imagine her father, whom she admired and respected more than any other person, having ulterior motives of any kind, but it certainly appeared he and Septon were keeping secrets. Had they already found Dyrnwyn? Was that why they’d dissuaded her from searching for it? She’d talked about it for so long, saying she would find the sword and present it to the Ashmolean Museum, where it could reside next to the Heart of Llanllwch.
“What’s your next move?” Cassie asked, disrupting the troubling direction of Cate’s thoughts.
Cate and Grey had also discussed that at length. First, they’d see what happened with Lord Norris and his mother. Cate had a tenuous agreement with the earl that each would help the other, him with finding the tapestry and her with uncovering the circumstances of his brother’s death. He was doing his part—supposedly. She had no choice but to trust him.
“I need to talk to Septon,” she said. “I’ve sent him a note—as has Norris. I hope to coordinate our visit, tomorrow or the day after.”
“Norris has contacted him?” Andy asked.
“Yes, Septon has already initiated a correspondence. He offered to help liquidate the Cosgrove collection.”
Cassie swore in a most unladylike fashion. “Never say Norris is selling the lot?”
“He finds it a nuisance.” Cate didn’t bother hiding her disdain. She understood his need to replenish his coffers, but he could likely be back up to scratch after only selling a handful of treasures. “I offered to help him, but he wasn’t interested since Septon had already contacted him. In fact”—Cate’s blood began to simmer—“I think he might have something against me because I’m a woman.”
“Typical.” Cassie scoffed. “No man thinks we’re worth anything. It’s why we have our own society, after all.”
Cate didn’t categorize her father and brother in that manner, which Cassie knew and pointedly disagreed with. “Not all men, but yes, the vast majority,” Cate said. She’d rather hoped Norris was different and was disappointed to realize he likely was not. Why? She shouldn’t care what he thought. Except she needed his cooperation, and it would be easier if he attributed her at least some value. Surely he did, since he’d shared his plans to come to Bath with her. Her head was beginning to hurt. She took a sustaining drink of tea.
Andy set her teacup on the table. “We do in fact know Mrs. Hollister. Not well, but she’s active in Bath Society and we’ve run into her on occasion. I do believe she spends most Wednesday evenings at the Assembly Rooms. Should we go tomorrow so that we can speak with her about the tapestry?”
Cate appreciated their assistance, but she wanted to see if Norris would simply share with her what he learned. “I need to find where Norris is staying so that I may send him a note.” She wanted to arrange a meeting to discuss their joint investigation and their findings. Or lack thereof. She also wanted to coordinate their visit to Septon House, which was only eight miles outside Bath.
“You don’t think he’s staying with his mother? She lives over on Green Street,” Andy said.
Cate didn’t think so. “I’m not certain if his relationship with his mother is cordial. It’s possible he’s lodging elsewhere.”
Grey stood with her hat in hand. “I’ll find out. Don’t hold dinner for me.” She turned and left.
Cassie lifted her cup to her lips. “Grey will run him to ground.”
“Is he like the old Lord Norris?” Andy asked with a moue of distaste. “The antiquary?”
Lord Norris the previous-previous. “No. In fact, if you told me they were related I should think you were lying. Or mad. He’s taller than Septon, if you can imagine. Fair-haired, rigid, but then he was in the military. In Australia of all places. His skin has a sun-kissed quality that must be permanent since he left there some ten months ago.”
Both sisters’ movements arrested. “Sun-kissed?” Andy asked, exchanging a curious glance with Cassie, who shrugged.
“Oh, stop.” Cate made a noise of disgust. “You’re as bad as Miranda. She was trying to pair us off. It was appalling.”
Cassie pursed her lips. “Because he’s a woman-bashing cretin.”
“Maybe,” Andy said judiciously. “Cate barely knows him. And they have to work together. You never know what might happen. Not all men are philandering, woman-denigrating cretins like Selina’s husband.”
As they went in to dinner a quarter hour later, Cate couldn’t help but wonder what sort of man Norris really was. Could he be trusted? Time would tell. Unfortunately, Cate had never been a very patient person.
Chapter 5
Elijah glanced up at the cloudy sky as he stepped out of the coach before his mother’s house in Bath. Yesterday had been clear and pleasant, perfect for their journey from Cosgrove, but today looked as though it would storm. It seemed an appropriate herald to seeing his mother after so many years away. It also went hand in glove with their acrimonious history.
Within an hour of his and Wade’s arrival last night, he’d received a note from Miss Bowen requesting a meeting at his earliest convenience. Occupied with steeling himself—which had taken a larger than average course of whisky—in order to visit his mother, he had not yet responded to Miss Bowen.
Reluctantly, he made his way to the front door and rapped sharply on the wood. After several moments, the door opened. Elijah didn’t recognize the butler. He was rather young, maybe not even as old as Elijah’s twenty-nine years.
“Yes?” What the butler lacked in age, he made up for in haughtiness. He somehow managed to look down his nose at Elijah, despite being far shorter.
“I’m here to see Mrs. Hollister.”
The retainer gave Elijah a thorough perusal, but didn’t reflect any judgment as to what he saw. “I’m afraid she doesn’t receive visitors until noon.”
Elijah offered a humorless smile. “Please inform her that her son is here.” He strode forward, giving the butler no choice but to open the door wider and move out of the way.
Time hadn’t changed the interior of the house, which they’d moved into after the death of his father thirteen years before. Elijah noted the landscape painting of the Somerset Levels, the area from where his mother hailed, its vibrant colors somewhat overshadowed by the bright blue paint with which she’d insisted on having the walls of the entry hall painted.
“This way,” the butler said, gesturing Elijah into the front sitting room. Much of the furnishings were familiar, but there was a new carpet—vivid yellow and bronze. Elijah’s eye was drawn to the portrait of him and his brother hanging over the fireplace. Matthew’s mischievous ten-year-old face stared back at him, while Elijah, just eight and wearing a timid look, stood somewhat behind him, as Mother had arranged them.
Timid? Yes, he’d grown up in his brother’s shadow and under the brunt of his mother’s displeasure, but his years in the army had completely changed him. Would she even notice?
The butler interrupted his thoughts. “I’ll see if Mrs. Hollister is able to receive you.”
Elijah didn’t think she’d turn him away. That her son was an earl had to give her endless satisfaction—even if it was Elijah and not Matthew—and he co
uldn’t imagine her ignoring his call. Would she, however, be forthcoming with any information she might have regarding his search for the tapestry and with any information about Matthew’s death?
After a good quarter hour, she finally came into the sitting room. She wore a glaring fuschia morning gown. Her dark blond hair was swept simply but tidily atop her head. Elijah detected a few more strands of gray since he’d seen her last, but she wore it well. Her dark blue eyes pierced him with curiosity. “I must own I’m surprised to see you, Elijah.”
Because the last time he’d left, he said he’d never return. And at the time, he’d meant it. Elijah fingered his hat, which he’d removed while he’d been waiting. “I’m surprised as well, but then there have been many surprises, haven’t there? I never imagined I’d be back in England as an earl.”
Mother moved into the room and sat in a chair the color of the Australian sun in midsummer. She arranged her skirts and gestured for him to sit. “Yes, it was unexpected enough for Matthew to inherit, but then for him to die so suddenly . . .” She looked up at the portrait and blinked.
Elijah knew her grief was real and was sorry for it. He might not like her, but he didn’t wish for her to suffer. He also wasn’t comfortable discussing it. “Matthew visited you just before he died.”
“Yes.” She returned her gaze to his. “Aren’t you going to sit down? I’m getting a neck ache looking up at you. I’d almost forgotten how unnaturally tall you are.”
Unnatural, yes. She’d always found so many traits and behaviors to criticize about him. He dropped onto the settee, setting his hat down beside him, but didn’t relax. “Did he bring anything with him?”
She looked at him blankly. “Such as his valet?”
That she mentioned the valet piqued Elijah’s interest, but he’d discuss that in a moment. “I’m looking for a tapestry that he may have brought here for safekeeping.”
