“What’s this about?” Henry asked. “Some other trouble Charlotte’s brought on us?”
“It’s not my place to say,” Livingston replied. “I’m merely the messenger.”
The lawyer rested her briefcase on the edge of the desk while she unlocked it. She then removed two envelopes and handed one to each of them. “As you know, Gable, Livingston, and Hughes has handled your family affairs for several generations. I was instructed to deliver these messages at the time you both became adults or in the event that Lady Charlotte should remarry. After we received word of your stepmother’s upcoming wedding plans and several of her recent real-estate decisions, our firm felt that now was the appropriate time.”
Valerie was about to ask who had made the agreement, but as she turned the envelope over in her hands, her breath caught. Her name was written across the envelope in neat script, and she immediately recognized the handwriting.
It was unmistakable.
3
Ride
Dad.
Valerie tore into the envelope as though her life depended on it.
She found a yellowed sheet of paper within. As she unfolded it, an iron key slid into her palm. She considered the key briefly, then searched the slip of paper. Her heart sank. It had only a single line written on it. “For my Valerie. With loving memory of our best times together.”
She turned the paper over to find a map of the valley highlighting their family lands. An X on the map bore an annotation that read, “Angelina’s Well.”
She glanced at her brother, but he was busy tearing into his envelope. A moment later, he held up a key of his own. He flashed the paper at the lawyer. “This is it? There’s nothing else? No letter to explain it?”
Valerie read the line of text on Henry’s paper. It was their family motto, again written in their father’s careful handwriting.
“He only requested that we present them both together. But he did include one additional instruction,” Livingston said. “He requested that someone read your family motto aloud at the time these items are bequeathed. Shall I do it for you?”
Henry and Valerie exchanged glances, and Valerie shrugged.
The lawyer removed a pair of spectacles from her jacket and took the sheet of paper from Henry. She focused on the words and read, “Rimani sempre nobile di cuore.”
She looked at them knowingly but, getting no response, folded the paper again and handed it back to Henry. “And that’s it, I’m afraid. Gable, Livingston, and Hughes was given no further instructions.” She closed her briefcase.
“What are we supposed to do with these?” Henry asked, holding up his key.
“It’s not my privilege to know,” Livingston said. She turned to leave, hesitated, then faced them once more. “If it’s any small help, your father did say something in person at the time he made this bequest. He emphasized that he truly believed in your family’s words and felt they would be enough to guide you.” The lawyer gripped her briefcase handle with both hands. “It’s a beautiful sentiment, really. That nobility is a product of the heart, not the blood. In light of some of your stepmother’s recent choices, I thought you may find that comforting. No lack of title or property can ever take away a noble heart you carry with you.”
“I’m sure that will be of great consolation when our inheritance is given to the Sterlings,” Henry muttered.
Livingston sighed, then strode into the hall, her briefcase swinging gently beside her.
Valerie watched the lawyer disappear, then turned back to Henry. “What now?”
Henry studied his key. “Let’s hope that whatever these unlock gives us more answers. Did your letter have anything useful?”
Valerie handed him the map. “It’s the old estate. Angelina’s Well.”
“Out at River House, where Dad grew up,” Henry said. “Where he and Mom met.” He examined the map. “We could make it in an hour if we leave now.”
“Sure,” Valerie said. “This night is a downer anyway.”
They walked back to the main hall and stepped out the front doors to the circular drive. Outside, Charlotte was already in the passenger seat of a convertible Phaeton speedster. She gave them both a cold glare. Jasper was climbing into the driver’s seat. He revved the engine several times to the delight of the teenage valets.
Jasper caught Valerie’s stare for a brief moment, and he gave her another wink. He saluted the valets, then shifted into gear and tore out of the driveway, tires squealing and leaving the scent of burnt rubber lingering in the air. The pair sped down the tree-lined drive until the car’s taillights disappeared into the twilight.
Someone gripped Valerie’s arm, and she turned to find Thea behind her. Her eyes were glassy.
“Val Val! Just the person we need.” She slurred a few more words Valerie didn’t catch. Every member of the group was carrying their own bottle of wine. They had obviously made a pitstop in the cellar and were determined to start summer break with nothing held back.
“I’ll be along eventually,” Valerie said. “Save some wine for the rest of us.”
“No promises,” Thea said. She eyed Henry. “What about it, captain? You, me, hot tub?"
Valerie steered Thea away and gave her a gentle shove toward the rest of the group that was slowly making its way toward the back of the house. “Be good, Thea.”
Thea pouted but cheered up at the sight of the other members of Henry’s dueling club making their way toward the pool house. She hurried to catch up.
“She’ll be all right,” Henry said, taking Valerie’s hand and towing her toward the garages. “Come on. We can take Charlotte’s convertible. She clearly won’t be using it tonight.”
They were through the manor house gates and onto the open road minutes later, Henry behind the wheel of Charlotte’s Easton convertible. Valerie attempted to direct him to the correct route. How many years had it been since she had been to River House? Nearly a decade of living at boarding schools divided her from the last time she was a real resident of her family’s land, but she knew enough. Hadn’t her father driven these lanes with her nearly every weekend of her childhood? His spirit lingered in every curve.
The purr of the engine kept time with the speed of Valerie’s thoughts as they hurtled over hills and around bends. Her mind raced to catch up with the turmoil of the evening and sudden appearance of her father’s messages.
The headlights startled a herd of deer at the side of the road and sent them bounding away into the vineyards. Henry focused on the road and took them north into the heart of the valley.
The minutes blurred by with the hills and trees. When they reached the road to River House, the tires chirped as Henry swerved onto the pavement of the drive. They tore down the long lane leading to her father’s favorite summer residence. Old oaks lined the road, drooping blankets of moss that reached for them with wispy fingers. The passing car left them flailing in the wind like angry ghosts.
The house was still small in the distance when they reached the turnoff for the well. Henry launched the car down the old pump road but had to slow when they encountered the ruts left by last year’s rainy season.
Frequent switchbacks punctuated a steady decline until they reached the second turnoff they were looking for. While the pump road had always maintained occasional traffic from servants or family members headed for the river, the route to Angelina’s Well was so overgrown that they were soon forced to abandon the car and walk.
Henry plucked a flashlight from the car’s glove box and lit the way.
“What do you think is hiding out here?” Valerie asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
Henry pried his way through the underbrush and they finally emerged in the clearing cut around the old stone well.
Valerie had been here a few times as a child. She recalled staring down the unfathomable well and tossing rocks into its depths, her voice echoing back up at her when she yelled.
To one side of the well was a di
lapidated barn that had once housed horses. She had a vague memory of feeding a painted mare an apple from her hand. The corral in the back was now nothing but a few rotting fence posts.
The old barn had three separate bays. The largest, central bay stood open and empty. The other two doors were closed and padlocked.
Valerie and Henry exchanged glances, and both removed their keys from their pockets.
As they approached the first bay, Henry tried his key. Despite the age of the barn, the locks were well lubricated and should have turned easily enough, but Henry’s key didn’t work.
He stepped aside and let Valerie try. She twisted her key and the lock snapped open immediately. She held her breath as Henry swung the door open.
Inside the barn sat a vision straight from her memory.
“Good God,” Henry said.
The sleek, black vehicle was a panther in crouch, power pulsing in every line of its form.
“Dad,” Valerie whispered.
It had been a long time since she’d seen the car, but it was as though the years had been rolled back and she was standing on the sidewalk in front of school again. Any moment, her father would open the door and step out to greet her.
Valerie smiled at the memory.
The day her father had showed up in this machine had left students gaping and bullies afraid to antagonize her for the next decade.
Because it wasn’t just a car. It was a Guardian 770. A machine of war. A legend.
She didn’t notice how hard she was squeezing her brother’s arm until he pried her fingers off.
“I promise it’s not a ghost, Val.”
“Charlotte said she sold it. She said she had it stripped for parts.” Valerie kept her eyes on the car as though it might vanish. It was all there. The ravenous intake scoop of the supercharger. The Terravecchia crest on the rims. Valerie took a few tentative steps forward, stretching a hand out, still unsure if the apparition might dissolve before her eyes.
When her fingertips grazed the hood, she finally exhaled.
It was real.
She brushed her hand along the car’s bold fender and up to the mirror. The window was open only a crack, but the scent of the interior was enough to bring back a flood of memories. Saturday afternoons in the passenger seat, her father’s hand resting gently on hers, teaching her to shift the gears. The addictive smell of leather and gasoline.
She clenched at her throat when she saw the pocket watch. It was still there, dangling from a frayed cord on the rearview mirror.
“I can’t believe it. It’s really his.”
“Someone’s been taking good care of it,” Henry said. “It’s barely even dusty.”
He was right. This wasn’t a car that had been neglected for a decade. There were a few scars on the body—evidence of past battles—but the leather was polished, the controls still shiny.
She spotted the keychain dangling from the ignition.
Opening the door, she slid into the driver’s seat. A metal tag hanging from the ignition key had a single word engraved on it. Valerie.
“I’ll see what’s in the other bay,” Henry said.
“Okay,” Valerie replied, though she wasn’t really listening. Her hands were busy finding their places on the steering wheel.
She stepped on the clutch and twisted the ignition key.
The engine awoke with a roar.
Yes.
Shifting into gear, she eased the Guardian out of the barn. The engine trembled with anticipation, a stallion chomping at its bit, eager to run. Valerie teased the accelerator and glanced at the third bay of the barn. The door hung open, but there was no sign of Henry.
She’d come back for him.
Valerie turned the wheel and eased the Guardian down the gravel path that led through the woods to the old river road. If she took it far enough, it would loop around the house and back to the route they came in by. If her memory served her, it was a little over three miles.
She’d be back in no time.
Valerie gave the Guardian the gas and it leapt into motion. Her body trembled with its raw power, and she was immediately awash with nostalgia.
It still smelled like him. The rough leather beneath her was familiar, the shine from the glistening instrument panel too. The vibration from the 640-horsepower engine may as well have been bubbling up from her past.
She rocketed down the river road, whipping past ancient trees and only slowing in places where tree roots had found their way to the surface or been exposed by the river’s annual floods.
This was home. This memory. This car.
As the Guardian surged onto the main drive, she had the sudden feeling she had gone back in time.
She let out a whoop of unconstrained joy.
But almost as soon as the sound had left her mouth, she was brought back to the present.
The windows of River House were lit.
Valerie eased off the gas. Who else was out here?
She approached cautiously, then turned around the drive, the headlights sweeping over the house. It was too late for servants to be working. Perhaps the mysterious caretaker? She rolled down the windows. She could just make out the babble of the river beyond the house as it rushed past the old bridge she had jumped from so many times as a child. But there were other noises. Voices.
A moment later, the front door opened and three people walked out. She recognized the couple but couldn’t place them. The man accompanying them was shaking their hands.
“I think you’ll be incredibly happy with the purchase. I know that Lord Sterling was especially pleased that you’ll be neighbors.” The man stopped speaking when the couple caught sight of the Guardian.
Valerie left the engine running as she got out of the car. “What’s going on here? What are you people doing on our land?”
The couple exchanged glances, then looked to the third man with a questioning gaze. The man gave Valerie a quick appraisal that took in the car as well, then stepped off the porch. “This is actually now the property of the Baron and Baroness of Winthrop. They’ve just purchased it.”
The words were a slap in the face.
“This is Terravecchia land. It’s been in my family for a century.”
“And now it’s not,” the man said without even a hint of apology. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a card. “Blaise Cavendish, personal attorney of Lord Jasper Sterling. I can assure you that this sale has gone through all the proper channels. I have the documentation right here.” He indicated a silver briefcase at his side.
“This house isn’t his to sell,” Valerie hissed.
“I assure you, it is,” Blaise replied. “The paperwork is done. Would you care to see your stepmother’s signature on the deed transfer? I have it. But perhaps you should simply ask her.” He took a few steps and grasped Valerie’s elbow, turning her toward the car. “Valerie, is it? Why don’t you run along and let the grown-ups handle their business.”
Valerie jerked her arm free of his grasp. She wanted to punch him right in his condescending mouth.
Then her eyes took in the house beyond him.
They were going to lose it.
The place her mother and father had fallen in love. The docks where her mother used to sit and laugh as Valerie and Henry performed stunts from the rope swings. The shallow pools where her father had first taught her to swim. All of it would belong to someone else.
It wasn’t possible.
“This isn’t right,” Valerie said, raising a threatening finger. “You’ll have my brother to deal with.”
“I have a train to catch,” Blaise said, checking his watch. “But I’ll be sure to tell Lord Sterling to expect his call.”
Valerie climbed back into the Guardian and slammed the door. The Baron and Baroness looked on as she shifted into gear and stomped on the accelerator. The tires of the Guardian squealed and smoked. She sent a cloud of dust toward the lawyer, then raced away down the drive.
Valerie launched the car
back along the river road, letting the wind tear through the open windows. Her thoughts were as wild and unruly as the hair that flailed about her head.
Everything was coming undone.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Jasper Sterling.
What circle of hell had he crawled up from?
When the dark figure stepped into the road, Valerie’s stomach went into her throat.
She yanked hard on the wheel, stomping the brake and sending the car into a sideways skid, clawing for traction as it fishtailed. The car finally came to stop amid a cloud of dust, mere inches from contact.
The masked man in the road was brandishing a sword. His face was that of an elemental beast. Stubbed ears framed a snarling face and a mouth with silver teeth.
He stepped closer, moving around the front of the car.
Valerie stared at the figure as he approached her window. A mask of judgment. A mask of vengeance. What long-forgotten sins were being paid for tonight?
She noted the sword in the man’s hand. She’d seen it a hundred times in her dreams. Durendal, the blade that could cut through stone. Legend held it was the sharpest sword in existence. She had thought it lost. Past and present were once again blurring together.
The figure lifted the sword and studied the blade, then the voice came from beyond the mask. “Do you remember it being so beautiful?” He pulled the mask from his face with his free hand.
He was no longer Il Orso Nero, the fearsome bear—only Henry, her brother. And the sword was just a sword again.
“We have a problem,” Valerie said. Henry lowered the weapon, and she relayed the conversation she had at the house.
“Sold,” he repeated. “You’re certain?”
“By some lawyer. He claimed he worked for Jasper Sterling.”
“That thieving bastard,” Henry muttered. “He isn’t even attempting to wait till the wedding to show his true colors. I bet he’ll sell Villa Rosa too.”
He pulled the scabbard from his belt and sheathed the sword, then moved around to the passenger side of the car. He attached the sword to the built-in rack on the car’s ceiling, then slid into the passenger seat. He pointed through the windshield. “Port Hyacinth.”
Sword Fight Page 4
