Treasure Her Heart

by Marin McGinnis

Before they had walked four steps down the beach, a shrill voice called her name. Judith stopped and sighed. “That’s Mama. I fear our adventures today are at an end, Lord Caxton.”

  They turned to see Lady Grangemore advancing toward them at a pace that was surprisingly rapid, given the terrain and her voluminous skirts. Judith knew then her mother had seen Lord Caxton touch her face. If she wasn’t in a carriage bound for Derbyshire by the end of the day, she’d be very shocked indeed.

  “Judith! What are you doing?” Lady Grangemore was upon them, her expression fierce.

  “We were simply walking, like everyone else,” Judith said.

  “Everyone else has finished walking and returned to the carriages. Did you not see the storm clouds?”

  Sure enough, an enormous bank of dark clouds loomed just offshore, moving swiftly inland. She glanced worriedly at Peter, who was regarding the clouds with obvious alarm.

  “Come, both of you,” Lady Grangemore said. “We are in grave danger of a soaking if we don’t hurry.” She grabbed Judith’s hand and dragged her away, Lord Caxton on their heels.

  They were only a few yards from the carriages, no longer open to the elements, when the heavens opened. Rain fell in a torrent, as if someone had upended a bathtub over their heads.

  They broke into a run, or as close to a run as they could get in their gowns. Judith shrieked as her feet left the ground, and she found herself in Lord Caxton’s arms. He grinned at her as he raced them to the vehicles and all but tossed her into one. He went back to assist Judith’s mother, grasping her at the waist, depositing her in the carriage, and disappearing.

  It all happened so fast Judith had barely drawn breath before the vehicle began to move. Rain rapped on the roof of the carriage, almost deafening the occupants. Water dripped from her hat onto her lap.

  Her mother cleared her throat, returning Judith’s attention to the inside. Beside her, Gwyneth grinned, but in the opposite seat Lady St. George wore a pinched expression as she regarded Judith. Lady Grangemore’s fierce scowl was at odds with her bedraggled appearance, her skirts sodden and the feathers on her hat flattened against her cheek. Judith bit her lip to keep from laughing—that would not go over well at all.

  “What were you thinking, young lady?” her mother said between clenched teeth.

  “We were simply walking, Mama, and didn’t notice the storm.”

  “I saw him touch your face. That was no mere walk, Judith.”

  “He was wiping a bit of sand off my cheek, Mama. It was nothing.” Judith hoped she was lying better than she usually did.

  “It certainly appeared intimate from where I was,” Gwyneth said.

  Judith glared at her friend. “You’re not helping,” she whispered.

  “I don’t intend to help you, Judith,” Gwyneth whispered back. “This is dangerous ground you’re treading upon.”

  Judith ignored her, returning her attention to the rain. Observing the others with one eye, she waited for her mother to pounce again. A flash of lightning caused everyone to jump, then jump again when it was followed by a deafening crack of thunder. Wind whipped water into the carriage, soaking everyone’s skirts.

  “Where is Lady Howley?” Lady Grangemore asked, in an obvious attempt to keep them from dwelling on certain death from drowning.

  “She’s in the other carriage. She wanted to give the other guests the same recitation she gave to us on the way here.”

  “I shouldn’t think there would be sufficient room. Or that anyone could hear her through this storm,” Lady Grangemore yelled, another clap of thunder all but drowning her out.

  “I understand Lord Kingsley returned to the house on foot before the storm broke,” Lady St. George said.

  “How odd. It must be five miles. He’ll be soaked through.”

  Lady St. George shrugged. She was not interested in the Duke of Kingsley, which wasn’t a surprise. From the age of three, Gwyneth had been promised to an earl who held the neighboring estate. Her first London season was only a formality. Judith was rather jealous, truth be told. Gwyneth and Roger had grown up together and were the best of friends. It was a strategic as well as a love match, and she couldn’t imagine anything as perfect as that.

  If she tried, she could still feel Lord Caxton’s strong arms around her body, the smell of his musky cologne as he touched her cheek. She sighed, brushed a wet strand of hair off her face, and watched the rain.

  Chapter 11

  In the parlor before dinner, Lady Howley’s guests were talking about nothing but being caught in the storm. The rain continued to pelt the windows, punctuated by great claps of thunder that seemed to the shake the very foundations of the house. Samantha and Rebecca giggled and whispered behind their fans every time they spotted Peter or Judith.

  Although Judith steadfastly avoided him—perhaps in a futile attempt to curtail the gossip—it was apparent their walk had not gone unnoticed. Even as his fingers itched to touch her again, to do so would ruin her.

  After Peter returned to the house, wetter than he he’d ever been, his valet had helped him to bathe and dress in dry clothing. He had sat in front of the fire sipping a brandy as he contemplated his situation. Lady Cassandra had clearly reveled in playing the outraged fiancée, judging by Lady Kingsley’s comments when he’d arrived. Even though the duchess had promised not to tell his father where he’d gone, it was not beyond the realm of possibility one of the other ladies had written to friends in London, mentioning his presence at the house party. Gossip spread through the ton faster than the plague, so his whereabouts were unlikely to be a secret to his father, or his fiancée, for long.

  Now he stood at the mantel, watching Judith talking to Lady Gwyneth. He had been fanciful, with his talk of colorful fish, but she had responded in a surprising way. He found it hard to believe no one had ever called her beautiful, unless perhaps they had used the word ‘stunning’ instead. She was less like a fish than a magnificent horse, however, with her chestnut mane and long legs. He could imagine them beneath her gown, smooth and muscled…

  He shook his head before he wound up with an erection that would be hard to hide. He turned from the sight of Judith as Lord Kingsley approached him. The man was at least a head shorter than Peter. A pleasant enough chap, but his lip was adorned with a wispy mustache so resembling custard Peter always felt the impulse to hand him a handkerchief so he could wipe it off.

  “Kingsley,” he said, nodding his head in greeting.

  “Caxton. I understand congratulations are in order.”

  “So I’m told.”

  Kingsley raised a blond brow to match his mustache. “It’s a good match. You’re not pleased?”

  “Not particularly. Lady Cassandra and I have little in common, and we don’t know each other at all. I suspect she has no more interest in marrying me than I have in her.” He took a sip of his drink and regarded Kingsley over the rim of his glass. “She’d throw me over in an instant if a suitable noble of higher rank offered for her.”

  Kingsley appeared thoughtful. Peter had planted the seed. “She is beautiful,” the duke said. “And comes from a well-respected family.”

  Peter’s gaze wandered to Judith, who was laughing. God, she was even gorgeous when she laughed.

  Kingsley cleared his throat. “Oh, I see.”

  Peter returned his attention to his companion. “You see what, exactly?”

  “I see what has caused your lack of enthusiasm for the match with Lady Cassandra. Miss Leslie is a striking woman, with a lively intellect. She’d make a suitable bride for someone of your rank.”

  Peter was surprised by the depth of emotion the duke’s words stirred within him. Kingsley seemed to have as little regard for women as Peter’s father, considering them little more than chattel.

  Compelled to come to Judith’s defense, he said, “She’d make a suitable bride for anyone, regardless of rank. You should be so lucky as to attract her attention, Kingsley. Now if you’ll excuse me?” He strode away before t
he duke could reply and joined Judith and Lady Gwyneth on the settee.

  “Good evening, ladies. How did you enjoy our little sojourn on the beach?”

  “My sojourn was not nearly as exciting as yours, I think, Lord Caxton,” Lady Gwyneth said with a pinched expression. “And I was quite dry, at least until Judith joined us in the carriage.”

  “You can hardly blame me for that, Gwyn. The rain was slanting sideways.”

  “It was rather exhilarating, don’t you think, Miss Leslie? Racing the storm?” Peter said. He was gratified to see her blush to the roots of her hair, presumably remembering how he’d carried her in his arms for the last part of that race. He ached to have her there again, in private and out of the rain.

  “I understand Lady Howley plans to take us down to the secret passages under the house tomorrow, since it’s expected to rain again,” Judith said.

  Gwyneth frowned. “I have no interest in traipsing around in dark musty caverns. Surely you’re not planning to go, Judith?”

  “I am, actually. This house has quite an intriguing history, and I would love to hear more. Don’t you remember the hidden treasure story Lady Howley related on our first night? How exciting it would be to find it!” Her green eyes flashed.

  “I very much doubt there’s any treasure. What do you think, Lord Caxton?” Gwyneth asked.

  “Miss Leslie and I are of like mind. I would love to hunt for treasure. It would certainly make for a more interesting diversion than one finds at most country house parties.”

  He glanced at Judith, who was smiling at him. He vowed to have her smile like that at him at every possible opportunity.

  ****

  The rain continued throughout the night and the morning of the next day. After listening to Rebecca sing off-key at an impromptu morning recital, Samantha accompanying on the pianoforte (if one could call it accompaniment), Judith and her ears were eager to go exploring. Once luncheon was finished and her mother retired for a nap, Judith donned a sturdy pair of boots and the drabbest gown she had.

  They met in the drawing room. Judith was a bit surprised to see only Lady Howley, Lord Kingsley, and Lord Caxton. She had expected at least one of the other ladies to join them. Where was their spirit of adventure?

  “I’m so delighted you wish to join us, Miss Leslie,” Lady Howley said. She was wearing what looked suspiciously like a pair of pantaloons. Her gaze traveled from Judith’s faded olive green muslin to her worn brown leather boots. “And dressed so sensibly, I see. Although you would do much better in these.” She modeled her garment, which was indeed a pair of pantaloons in a gray silk. A matching blouse was tucked into them, with a black leather belt around her waist.

  Judith fingered her skirt, rather jealous.

  “You will get dirty, I’m afraid,” Lady Howley continued. “Are you sure you wish to wear those trousers, Kingsley? They seem very fine.”

  He shrugged. “These old things?”

  Peter rolled his eyes at Judith, and Lady Howley directed them out the door toward the kitchen. The staff were busy clearing up after luncheon; no one paid any notice when their mistress sauntered past them wearing trousers, a line of aristocrats trailing behind her like baby ducks.

  They stopped at a wooden door at the end of a corridor, a huge round, metal handle proclaiming its age. “This is the oldest part of the house, built in the fourteenth century. Our lady pirate tore down the original and built on top of these tunnels. The steps are quite uneven and the ceiling rather low, so do be careful.” She peered up at Peter, at least a head taller than herself. “Especially you, Peter dear. I should be annoyed if you knock yourself unconscious and we have to drag you back up the steps.”

  “Duly noted, milady,” Peter said with a laugh.

  Lady Howley opened the door with a creak; a rush of cool, dank air escaped, smelling of fish, mildew, and adventure.

  “How often do you venture down here, Lady Howley?” Judith asked.

  “We keep the hinges oiled and the steps clear. You never know when you might need an escape route.” She winked, then leaned over a basket Judith hadn’t noticed by the door. Lady Howley pulled out four torches, lit them from the sconce on the wall, and handed them around. “You’ll need these. It’s quite dark.”

  Trepidation and excitement warred in Judith’s belly, but she followed Lady Howley down the stone steps, Peter directly behind her. His presence at her back was comforting. Lady Howley had not lied about the condition of the steps. Centuries of use had worn them down in uneven patterns. She could imagine the pirate queen running down them for an assignation with her lover. She stumbled slightly and felt a steadying hand on her shoulder.

  The staircase began to twist and turn until Judith had no idea what direction she faced. Finally, they reached the end and stepped into a cavernous room cut from stone. Lady Howley lit several wall sconces with her torch, and the room filled with flickering light. Judith jumped at a noise from the shadows near the floor.

  Lady Howley chuckled. “It’s only a rat, my dear. I’m afraid these caverns are full of them.”

  “What is this room?” Kingsley asked, his voice unusually small and his face slightly off-color.

  “I believe it was a store room for smuggled goods, judging by the kegs and crockery we found along the wall when we first purchased the house. There are even a few kegs left.” She aimed her torch at the corner, revealing a pile of wooden barrels with rusty metal bands.

  Judith drew her finger in the dust that covered them. “What’s inside?”

  “Wine, most likely. It traveled better in kegs than in bottles. It might be rum, however, depending on where it originated.”

  “You never looked inside? Perhaps that’s where the treasure is hidden!”

  “They’re only about forty years old,” Lady Howley said, “long after the treasure was hidden. No, the treasure, if it exists, is somewhere else. Let’s keep walking, shall we? There’s another room I want to show you.”

  She led them out of the store room down another set of labyrinthine corridors, lighting an occasional sconce on the way. Judith was sure without those they’d never find their way back to the house.

  After what seemed like miles of walking in the damp darkness, Judith spied a light ahead, and the smell of the sea grew stronger. The corridor opened into another large room, this one more brightly lit from a man-sized hole in the wall. She walked toward it, only to have Peter hold out a hand, blocking her way.

  “Careful, Miss Leslie. If I’m not mistaken, that is an opening in the cliffside.”

  Judith bristled at the caution. “I’m not going to jump off the edge, Lord Caxton.” She pushed past him and stood with her toes near the edge. The rain had stopped, and the sea lay before her, about fifty feet down. At the base of the cliff, water lapped gently against weathered rocks. The air smelled fresh, wet, pure, as if the world had been cleansed. She inhaled deeply, letting it wash over her. A mild wind whistled around her head, loosening her hair from its pins.

  Lady Howley joined her. “I love the smell too. Nothing like it.” She nodded approvingly, as if Judith had passed a test of some kind. “When the tide is out, there are lovely pools at the base of these cliffs, beneath the cave. You can often see seals sunning themselves on the rocks.”

  “Surely this isn’t the only opening to these caves. How would smugglers get their goods inside?” Judith asked.

  “There is another opening farther down, on the beach. You can see grooves in the rock from centuries of heavily laden carts rolling into the cave.”

  “I’d like to see that. Wouldn’t you, Lord Caxton?” Judith asked.

  “Certainly.” He stood behind her, his presence solid and comforting.

  A moan from beside Judith drew their attention. Lord Kingsley had grown distinctly green in hue, and he sank to the floor in a dead faint.

  “Kingsley?” Lady Howley rushed to him. She pulled a fan out of a pocket in her pantaloons and waved it at him. His eyelids flickered open and he m
oaned again. “Whatever is the matter with you?”

  “Heights. Closed spaces. Can’t stand them.”

  Lady Howley rolled her eyes. “Then why on earth did you come with us, ridiculous man?”

  “To be fair, Aunt Gin, one doesn’t expect heights in cellars under one’s house,” Peter said reasonably.

  Lady Howley ignored him. She pulled a flask from another pocket—really, what else did she have in there?—and held it to his lips. “Drink a bit of brandy, and then we’ll go back to the house.”

  “Oh, no,” Judith said. “Do we have to?” She was immediately contrite. Of course they did. Kingsley was obviously unwell, and she couldn’t very well stay in the caverns on her own.

  Lady Howley’s gaze flicked from her to Peter, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Peter, perhaps you can escort Judith to the other cave entrance? It’s easy to find—you turn right when you go out into the corridor and the path curves down until you reach it. You can’t possibly get lost. Follow the lit sconces back to the house.”

  “Oh, no,” Judith said. “It wouldn’t be proper. My mother would kill me if she found out.”

  “She’ll never know,” Lady Howley said. “You’ll be back before she wakes from her afternoon nap, and Peter will be every inch the gentleman, won’t you, dear?”

  Peter put his hand to his heart. “Absolutely.” He turned to Judith. “What do you say, Miss Leslie? Shall we continue our adventure?”

  She moved her mouth to say no, they mustn’t, but “Yes, let’s” came out instead. Before she knew it, Peter had placed her hand in his, and they headed deeper into the cave.

  Chapter 12

  Peter exchanged a glance with his godmother as they left. Placing a hand on his arm, she said, “Don’t get lost, now.” And winked.

  Was she telling him he should get lost? Perhaps she didn’t want him to marry Lady Cassandra either. Getting lost alone in the caves with Judith would ensure he’d have to marry her, whether he found a replacement suitor for Cassandra or not. But would she want to, or would she be like his own mother, forced to marry a man she didn’t love because of one indiscretion?