by Darcy Burke
Wade looked at him as if he were cracked. “None of them are the legendary sword of one of King Arthur’s knights, but I won’t press the matter.”
“I never knew you to be the fanciful sort, Wade.” Elijah turned and left the chamber.
He made his way to the large drawing room at the back of the house. The guests were to gather here before dinner. There were already a good number of people milling about and also spilling onto the terrace to enjoy the pleasant summer evening.
Their host, Lord Septon, approached Elijah. He was an angular man of exceptional height, one of only a few people Elijah could look straight in the eye without pitching his gaze down even a fraction.
“Good evening, Lord Norris,” he greeted, extending his hand. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Elijah clasped the man’s hand for a moment and couldn’t help but wonder if he were shaking the hand of a murderer. “Thank you for including me.”
“If I’d known you were ready to accept invitations, I would’ve invited you. I wanted to give you plenty of time to readjust to life in England.”
“Yes, it’s quite different from what I’m used to, particularly the title.”
Septon chuckled. “I can imagine it must be for someone who never planned to inherit. I came into my baronetcy when I was just twenty, but I had at least been prepared for it. If there’s anything I can do to help, I hope you’ll let me know. Your cousin, Lord Norris the antiquary, was a close associate of mine.”
Elijah noted he didn’t say “friend.” Was that because Septon, like everyone else Elijah had met, hadn’t cared for the man? “I understand he was a criminal.” Elijah saw no reason to mince words, and he preferred to get right to the point, especially tonight.
Septon frowned. “Yes, it turned out that he was. I had no idea. It was most disturbing. We shared a common interest in antiquities. I was gravely disappointed to learn he was fleecing money from his district.”
Did Septon’s disdain for Norris’s criminal activities indicate his own nature? Could Elijah deduce the man hadn’t been involved in Matthew’s death? Not yet. “At least reparations were made, though that didn’t leave the earldom in the best financial state. You offered to assist me with the antiquities collection, and I would like to liquidate it.”
The color seeped from Septon’s face. “All of it?”
Elijah nodded. “I’ve no need for it. Or interest, to be honest.”
“My goodness, it’s a veritable museum. In fact, I know that Oxford would love to acquire several items. You should write to Mr. Penn Bowen at the Ashmolean and invite him to visit. I should prefer to see some of those items in a museum instead of someone’s private collection.”
“Mr. Bowen is Miss Bowen’s brother?” Elijah asked.
“Yes. He’s what I like to call an adventuring antiquary. He travels all over Britain obtaining artifacts.”
That sounded somewhat like what his sister might do. Elijah made a mental note to ask her about that. “I’ll write to him when I return to Cosgrove. I don’t think I’ll have any trouble finding homes for the collection. Indeed, my brother was approached about selling some items.” Elijah was purposely vague in order to gauge Septon’s reaction.
“That’s not surprising, given its value. I know many people were keen to purchase items once Norris died. However, the length of time between his death and when your brother arrived back in England was so great, that I wondered who had actually contacted him, if anyone.”
Elijah gave him an unflinching stare. “Well, you did, of course.”
Septon gave a nod. “I did, and though he responded, he never seemed interested in accepting any of my offers of help or to purchase items.”
That sounded like Matthew. He would’ve been too busy spending money to consider how he might replenish it. “You offered to purchase multiple items? Which ones?”
Septon stroked his chin. “My goodness, the list is terribly long.” He laughed. “When you invite me to Cosgrove, I’ll bring it. I hope you’ll give me first crack—after you speak with Bowen.”
“Of specific interest to me at present is a tapestry. Do you recall offering to purchase that particular item?”
Septon’s eyes narrowed slightly. His gaze became more fixed, and his curiosity was clear. “Yes. What of it?”
“In addition to you, there was a pair of men who also demonstrated interest. It’s apparently quite valuable and they wanted it most desperately.” Time to see what Septon was capable of. “In fact, someone tried to steal it. Since these men and you are the only people I know of who offered to purchase it, I find myself wondering if one of you was behind the attempt.”
Septon’s eyes widened briefly and then narrowed again. His gaze darted to the left where a small group of gentlemen stood talking, but Elijah couldn’t determine whether he was looking at one of them. Septon frowned. “I can assure you I did not attempt to steal anything from the Cosgrove collection. I am more than happy to pay for the items I wish to own.”
Elijah sensed the man’s reaction was genuine, but it brought him no closer to solving this mystery. He was about to ask if Septon might know the other men who’d tried to purchase the tapestry, but the question died on his tongue as Miss Bowen entered the drawing room. Dressed in vibrant blue, with her hair swept into an elegant style—had Grey accomplished that? Elijah couldn’t imagine her skills stretching to such feminine achievements—Miss Bowen gleamed like a jewel amidst a pile of rocks.
“Ah, one of my favorite people.” Septon smiled as he greeted her. “Cate, you look lovely. And you’re wearing your favorite pendant, I see.”
Elijah, having followed him, glanced down at the familiar silver necklace kissing her flesh. He envied that piece of metal and its claim on that particular bit of Miss Bowen.
Septon gave Miss Bowen a quick hug and dropped a kiss to her cheek. “I’m so pleased you could come.”
“I’m glad I could be here after all. I see you’ve met Lord Norris.” She looked past Septon and when her gaze met Elijah’s, he tried to ignore the rush of awareness that crested over him again.
“Indeed,” said Septon. “He was telling me he wishes to sell the entire Cosgrove collection. I can’t fathom it.”
“Yes, he told me the same when we met in Wootton Bassett. I am equally shocked. But only think of the opportunity you now have.” She patted his sleeve.
“Too true.” His answering smile was positively gleeful. “To be fair, however, I did recommend he contact your brother first.”
“How magnanimous of you.” She looked toward Elijah. “You ought to know that you’ll garner more if you sell to Septon—his pockets are deeper than Oxford’s or my brother’s.”
“I hope you’ll both join the antiquities discussion after dinner. We’ll be gathering in the front hall.” Septon looked between them. “I see Lady Stratton beckoning me. Please excuse me.” He offered them a warm smile—that might have cooled a degree as he glanced at Elijah—before taking himself off.
Elijah watched him cross the room to an attractive woman of middle age with dark hair. Something about her reminded Elijah of one of the gentlemen in the far corner—in the group Septon had looked at. Elijah cast a surreptitious glance in that direction and again noted the similarity. The gentleman looked to be around Elijah’s age. Perhaps he was her son.
Miss Bowen touched Elijah’s sleeve, drawing his swift and singular attention. “What did you and Septon discuss? We never did strategize how I was to help you with him.”
Elijah motioned for her to follow him to the corner. They stood near a medieval—at least, he guessed it to be of that age—suit of armor.
“He assured me he had nothing to do with the attempted theft of the tapestry. I was asking him about the other men who sought to purchase it when your arrival interrupted us.”
Her brow creased. “My apologies. Although, I daresay you were going to lose him to Lady Stratton anyway. She will always be his first priority.”
/> Elijah’s ears pricked up like those of a dog on the hunt. Stratton as in Stratton Hall where Dalby, the corrupt footman, was now employed? “Lady Stratton is Septon’s paramour?” At Cate’s slight nod, he continued, “And is there a Lord Stratton?”
“Yes, but he’s not here. He would never set foot in Septon House or anywhere Lord Septon would be.”
Elijah slid a glance toward his host and Lady Stratton. “I take it her husband is aware of their affair?”
“Quite. They’ve been together for years. She left Stratton when I was very young.” Though they spoke in low tones, Miss Bowen leaned closer. “Lest you think I’m a gossip, they are actually my family. Stratton is a cousin of my father’s.”
Elijah’s chest puffed with satisfaction, for he’d been wondering how to gain entrance to Stratton Hall since he was not acquainted with its owner—he hadn’t even known who it was. “Indeed?”
Her gaze narrowed at him in an assessing manner. “Why are you so interested?”
“Because I need to question someone employed at Stratton Hall. After you and Grey left the inn in Bradford on Avon this afternoon, we learned from my brother’s former valet that the footman who’d attempted to steal the tapestry is now in service at Stratton Hall. I mean to speak with him in order to determine who put him up to the task, and you are perfectly positioned to help me. You’ll arrange for us to visit.”
Her lips curled into a distasteful moue. “I did say I would help you, but I must admit I’d rather not. Stratton is universally regarded as an awful person. He’s a philanderer and a drunkard. I’ve never met anyone with a lower opinion of women.”
Derision weighted her tone. This was not the first time she’d made an observation regarding the status of women. As a female antiquary, he knew, she fought a near-impossible battle to gain attention, let alone respect. “Since he is a relative, I assume you’ve met him.”
“Yes, a few times, and I must say that I don’t blame Lady Stratton for leaving him. In fact, I think she deserves a knighthood—if women could receive them—for staying with him for nearly ten years.” Her features softened. “But then I know she only did it to be with her son. Who can blame her for that?”
Who indeed? Elijah wondered if his own mother would’ve done such a thing. Not for him, certainly, but would she have suffered such a husband for Matthew’s sake? Judging her behavior, one would have thought she’d suffered the husband she had, but Elijah’s father—though fond of drink—had never treated her poorly.
Shoving his own disappointing childhood to the recesses of his mind, Elijah scanned the room for the gentleman he’d seen earlier, certain that he was Lady Stratton’s offspring.
“Who are you looking for?” Miss Bowen asked. “I thought you didn’t know anyone.”
“I don’t, but I believe I saw Lady Stratton’s son. He bore a striking resemblance . . . ”
“Kersey’s here?” Miss Bowen joined him in searching the room. “Ah, yes. There in the other corner.” Her lips curved down ever so slightly.
“You don’t care for him?”
She looked at Elijah. “It’s not that. I actually have fond memories of spending summers together when we were children. He’s cut in the image of his father, unfortunately. I often wonder if he would’ve turned out differently if Artemesia hadn’t left him at such a young age. Alas, we’ll never know.”
Elijah surveyed the gentleman from across the room. Kersey was engaged in conversation with a portly fellow who was gesturing enthusiastically with his hands. “You mean he drinks too much and has a low regard for women?”
“The term ‘rake’ comes to mind, but I fear that may be too tame of a description. He did marry, but his wife died just six months later and he fell right back into his bad habits. Artemesia hopes remarrying will calm him down again, but I doubt we’ll ever find out. No decent woman will have him because the rumor is that his wife killed herself to escape him—something his father’s first wife is also said to have done.”
Elijah’s head swam. “Stop. Please. I can’t possibly retain all of this information, nor do I want to. Unless Kersey has something to do with the men who visited my brother, I couldn’t care less about his romantic situation.”
She stared up at him. “I couldn’t agree more. How refreshing. Can you imagine”—she leaned closer as if to impart a secret, not that any of their conversation ought to have been exchanged in full voice—“Stratton actually hoped for Kersey and me to marry?”
Elijah shot a sharp glance toward Kersey. “But he’s your cousin.”
“Not that closely related by blood, but yes, I do share your dismay since we somewhat grew up together. Stratton liked the union because it would combine his meager manuscript collection with my father’s massive medieval library. He fancies himself some sort of collector, though I don’t think he has the faintest notion of how to go about it.”
“I take it your father is more competent at collecting?”
Her dark gaze simmered with pride. “My father is a scholar. He acquires medieval manuscripts to study them. His father before him was the most renowned medieval manuscript scholar in all of Britain.” The love and admiration she felt for her father was palpable, and Elijah felt a surprising stab of envy. He’d loved his father, but there hadn’t been much to admire about either of his parents, though he supposed his father deserved credit for enduring his wife’s frigidity and verbal abuse.
“Should we talk to Kersey about the men who tried to purchase the tapestry?”
She pulled her gaze from her cousin and looked up at Elijah. “I doubt he would know anything. Let me talk to Septon. Never fear, I’m confident we’ll learn something.”
He didn’t share her confidence, but didn’t say so. He ought to tell her about the tapestry, but he would wait until after dinner.
At that moment, the butler announced that dinner would be served. Elijah offered his arm to Miss Bowen. “May I escort you?”
She slipped her hand over his sleeve, the contact giving him another jolt of awareness. “Thank you.”
As he guided her to the dining room, he decided it was good that their association would be over soon. The more time they spent together, the more he was drawn to her. The last thing he had time or inclination for was a wife, and when it came to someone like Miss Bowen, he couldn’t have her any other way.
After a pleasant dinner during which Cate was able to observe Lord Norris discussing his assignment in Australia, she suffered the requisite post-meal gathering of ladies in the drawing room while the men enjoyed their port in the dining room. Cate was usually bored during these times as the conversation typically focused on the latest scandal or, even more tedious, the prospects on the Marriage Mart. If only one of her comrades from the Ladies’ Antiquities Society were present, she could have enjoyed the event. Instead, she smiled and nodded and thought about whether Grey had been able to obtain the key to Septon’s library.
At last, Lady Stratton—the de facto hostess—led them from the drawing room. As they neared the front hall, where Septon housed a great deal of his collection, Cate was intercepted by her host.
Septon took her hand and gave it a warm squeeze as people walked by them on their way to the hall. “How long do you plan to stay?”
“I’m not sure.” She didn’t want to commit to a specific duration. “A couple of days. At least.”
Septon’s familiar gray eyes crinkled at the corners as he let go of her hand. “Does it depend on Norris? Is there a chance he’s courting you?”
“Goodness no, why ever would you say that?” She realized she’d responded with great haste and perhaps a tad too much enthusiasm, but it was true.
Septon’s gaze took on a curious glint, which Cate recognized from nearly everyone else who’d interrogated her about Norris. Why was everyone bent on matching them together? “I only want to see you happy.”
Which could be said of all who’d inquired about Norris. “I know. And I appreciate your concern. However, I�
�m not in any hurry to marry. Love will find me when it’s time, or mayhap not at all. That isn’t what guides my life. I’m not like most females.”
He laughed softly. “No, you are not, by the grace of God. However, you are still of the fairer sex and the world can be harsh for an unmarried woman.”
Cate clenched her teeth. She loved Septon and supposed he couldn’t help his archaic views since they were shared by the vast majority. “I assume you don’t give Penn these same lectures.”
“Of course not. I’m not sure he’ll ever settle down. That boy—not that he’s a boy any longer—has far too great a taste for adventure.”
Did no one recognize that Cate did too? She and Penn weren’t actually blood-related, since he’d been adopted by their parents when he was nine. Despite that, and their ten-year age difference, they shared a love of excitement and thrilling experiences that most people would never dream of. “Girls like adventure too,” she murmured.
“Yes, yes, I understand,” he said somewhat condescendingly. “You aren’t Penn, however.” His gaze turned shrewd. “Just how long do you think you can go gallivanting around with your Ladies’ Antiquities Society friends?”
Cate bit back her gasp. “How do you know about that?” she whispered. It was supposed to be secret. People would actively try to stop them or discredit their work. And they were on the cusp of publishing their first set of papers.
“I know everything that occurs in the antiquarian community. It’s not common knowledge—yet. But you can’t have expected it to remain secret?”
“In fact, we did,” she said tartly. They’d planned to publish their papers under male pseudonyms and fabricate a false name for their organization—something without “ladies” in its title. “How did you learn of it?”
