What the Dashing Duke Deserves (Lords of Happenstance, #3)

by Sandra Sookoo

  She envied his ability to remain collected and so typically British.

  “Keep going, Herrick,” came the shouted response.

  “Are you certain? I don’t wish to go further without you, since this is your dig.”

  The earl’s roar of annoyance came over clear as a bell. “Stop wasting time. You are not a nodcock, Your Grace.” There was a slight pause before he spoke again. “You heard the gunshot.”

  Juliana gasped. “Gunshot?” That must have been the sharp crack just before the earth fell apart. Chill bumps raised on her arms.

  “Yes, I did,” he shouted but he exchanged a glance with her. The truth was in his eyes.

  They weren’t alone in the passageways.

  “Herrick, someone else is here. You must get to that burial chamber first.” Command rang in the order.

  The duke nodded. “I’ll do my level best.” Silence followed. “And Archewyne?” This time, some of Crispin’s composure slipped. Concern clouded his dark eyes.

  “Yes?”

  “Godspeed and good luck.”

  “Same to you, Herrick.” Oddly enough, a muffled laugh drifted to their location. “This is your chance to show the world what you’re made of. I’ve certainly trained you well enough.” Even through the rubble, the pride in his voice was clear.

  “Understood.” Then he turned fully to face her. “We’re on our own for the foreseeable future.”

  She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “What are we going to do?” Not wanting to show fear before him, she straightened her spine. If he could do this, so could she.

  “Keep going in the British style, of course.” He shook the remainder of the dust from his hair and then grinned. “Look at it this way: at least we’re finally alone.”

  “You’re incorrigible.” But she laughed. Juliana retrieved two of the lanterns. He took the third.

  “Ready to meet adventure?” His eyes twinkled in the dim light.

  The day she’d dreamed about for so long was here. “I have been ready for this my whole life.” When he took one of the lanterns from her, she fingered the pendant with her free hand. The gold was cool to the touch. I will finish this mission. And show them all she wasn’t the mistakes she’d made.

  Perhaps then Lord Archewyne will be as proud of me as he is of Crispin.

  The chance at redemption propelled her onward.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Crispin had mixed feelings as he and Juliana set off. It felt strange to leave Archewyne and the others behind, but finally, he held the reins of the mission in his own hands. So, as the first decision by himself, he led her down the left-hand passageway.

  Again, it sloped downward, but not at such a steep angle as the one before and eventually, it leveled out. However, the memory of the gunshot went round and round in his mind like a pony on a loop. Someone out there wished to kill them, perhaps bury them in this tomb, but who?

  And more to the point, why?

  It wasn’t long before the two of them were forced to come to a stop, for a dark pit loomed ahead. In fact, it was much like the path had simply ceased to exist for at least eight feet, if no more, then continued on again into the inky blackness.

  “Do you think the path crumbled or did the ancient Egyptians simply obliterate it as a deterrent?” Juliana ventured to the edge of the path. She peered over and with a shudder, pulled back.

  “Difficult to say, but judging from the fine cuts still evident, I’d say they planned this.” He set the two lanterns down near the drop off point. The weak light didn’t begin to penetrate the depth of the gorge. “Could be a burial shaft, I suppose, but since we haven’t the correct equipment to lower ourselves down, that isn’t an option to explore.”

  She huffed out a breath. “Surely we didn’t come this far to stop here.” When she cast a glance about the area, her eyes grew wide. “A convenient trap set by the owner of the gunshot we heard earlier?”

  “Don’t think like that.” However, she had a point. Unlike the air in the previous downward sloping passageway that had been stale and thin, breathing wasn’t as difficult in this section of the tomb. “Take a deep breath.”

  “Why?” She frowned. The light from her lantern bounced through the eerie chamber.

  “Just humor me.”

  “Fine.” Juliana inhaled and then exhaled. “It’s relatively clean.” She blinked and looked at him. “What does that mean?”

  “There must be a shaft coming from the surface that provides fresh air.” If possible, her eyes widened further. “And that means—”

  “There’s another way into the tomb. It would have to be little more than a thin tunnel, a thieves’ entrance, really. Otherwise it would have been noticeable.” She moistened her lips. “The gunman wasn’t one of our own, was it?”

  “I highly doubt it.” He paced to the farthest wall. “There are boards here, no doubt meant to use for crossing. Bring your lantern.” When she did so, he examined the collection for four wooden planks. “The wood doesn’t appear to be rotted, but it is old. Quite possibly left here by the original tomb builders, but more than likely thieves.”

  The tendons of her throat worked with a hard swallow. “Are there planks on the other side? Surely there would have to be to come back across...”

  “Unless the other entrance shaft connects on that side,” he finished for her. Good Lord, why did everything have to contain a level of intrigue? “Well, there’s nothing for it. We must cross that pit.”

  “I’ll do it.” The hand that held the lantern shook. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m the lightest. It makes sense.”

  “But—”

  “No. This is what we’re doing.” Juliana set her lantern down and then she began ripping at her skirts—the same turquoise gown he’d admired on her twice before. The sound of fabric rending filled the air.

  “What the devil are you about, woman?” Crispin didn’t want to send her over that pit of doom any more than he wished to cross it himself, but in order to reach the burial chamber, they’d have to go.

  “That’s the first time I’ve seen you in a snit.” She flashed him a grin but continued with her task. Soon she’d torn her skirting all the way around until the dress fell to her mid-calf. “If I’m to attempt a balancing act on those planks, I don’t need my skirts becoming an obstacle.”

  His respect for her went up a notch. “Good thinking.” Then she tore two strips from the excess fabric, yet he couldn’t move his gaze from the enticing length of her slim legs. “What are those for?”

  “To protect my knees in the event we need to crawl through tight spaces.” In the dim light, her eyes glittered with amusement. “Next time we do this, I’m borrowing a pair of your breeches.”

  Bloody hell. Did that mean she’d like to embark on another such mission with him? For a few seconds his mind blanked out as he imagined how she’d look dressed like a man, with her lower limbs fully on display. “It would certainly give you freedom of movement,” he managed to choke out as she wrapped the strips of fabric about her knees, knotting off the ends at the sides.

  “Exactly.” Juliana nodded. “Here.” She threw the extra fabric at him. “Put this in your satchel. We might need it later for triage or to bundle treasure.”

  “Ah, intelligent as well as beautiful.” He did as she instructed. “Now, about you going over the pit first—”

  “Crispin, enough.” She closed the slight distance between them and held his face between her palms, their gazes connecting. “Your willingness to protect me is admirable, but it’s wearing thin. Stop thinking of me as a fragile woman. Now is not the time for that nonsense. I am a King’s agent, the same as you. Anything you can do, I will also, and I might even accomplish the feat better.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she swiftly kissed him. “This is as much my mission as it is yours, and I have more to lose or to prove, depending on how you look at it.”

  He nodded. “Fair enough.” If he were in her position, closing out a case th
at had been open for more than a year would be his motivation too.

  “Good.” She patted his cheek before breaking contact. “If you don’t mind, please help me move a plank across the pit. I’d rather not wait around for the oil in the lanterns to expire.”

  What had he done in his life to warrant stumbling upon the world’s most stubborn woman? He grinned as he retrieved one of the planks, and then frowned. The board felt all too brittle in his hands. When he glanced across the dark expanse, the shadows on the other side were impenetrable. Was their unknown assailant even now lurking, hidden in the consuming blackness, waiting for them to come across?

  And he would let Juliana go over before him, right into danger.

  They had no choice.

  With a tight chest, Crispin brought the plank over to the edge of the abyss, and with her help lowered it down. Working together, hand over hand, they slid it out, and then he groaned. “Damn it all to hell.” The board was a foot shorter than the pit itself. He glanced at her. “Pull it back lest we lose it.”

  “But, it’s not going to work.” Her voice only wavered a bit as she helped him to bring the plank back. “What now?”

  “We reason this puzzle out.” He grabbed up one of the lanterns and brought the light over to the wall where the other four planks rested. “The Egyptians were a clever people who enjoyed rigging their tombs with traps to discourage robbers.”

  “And apparently they didn’t understand basic mathematics if they cut the planks too short,” Juliana replied with more than a little annoyance in her tone.

  Once Crispin set the lantern down, he separated the planks. Three were the same size as the original, while one was significantly shorter, perhaps four feet in length. Why? As he stared at them, he rubbed his chin with a hand. “Why is one not the same size?”

  “One of the tomb workers was an idiot?” Juliana drifted to his side.

  How was a man supposed to think straight when presented with such a fetching picture? Shoving such thoughts aside, Crispin narrowed his eyes at the boards. “No. This was deliberate. I’d wager my whole estate on it.” But how and why? What was he missing? “There is no other option around the pit?”

  “I highly doubt it.” Juliana made her way to the edge. “It’s simply not possible to vault the distance, not even with a running start.”

  “Perhaps.” The puzzle distracted him from her unorthodox attire. “Then why do it at all?” He walked first to the side of the passage closest to him. There was nothing there to indicate a clue. “Why cut the planks a foot too short and include one several inches shorter?”

  “It makes no sense.” She followed along behind him as he crossed the passageway to the other wall.

  “Not immediately.” When he examined the wall, he sucked in a breath. There! They’d missed it the first time because it hadn’t mattered. He turned so abruptly, he startled her. He dropped his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. “It makes no sense to the average person, but they’ve given us the answer.” With a laugh, he pointed at the wall. “Look. There’s a tiny ledge, only a few inches in width, too shallow for any person to walk upon.”

  “I see the ledge, but I don’t understand the thought process.”

  “Quite so.” He felt as giddy as a schoolboy who’d worked a whole blackbird of sums correctly in front of a dour schoolmaster. “What do you suppose would happen if we slid the short plank across the corner here to rest upon that ledge?”

  She bounced her gaze between him and the problem. When she gasped and her eyes glittered in the lantern light, he knew she’d figured it out too. “And then we rest the longer plank on the short. At that point, once we slide the longer across, it will fit with room to spare.”

  “Exactly!” Crispin gave a shout, caught her up in his arms and waltzed her back to the other wall where the boards waited. “This, my girl, is why having a partner is a fantastic proposition.”

  On the heels of a giggle, Juliana pulled out of his hold. “Do be serious.”

  “One cannot always act sober all the time. Imagine how boring that would be.” With the return of his good humor, he picked up the shorter plank. “Let’s get you across that chasm, hmm?” He crossed the passageway and then laid down the plank. After aligning it at the proper angle over the corner, he easily slid it into place until the edge connected solidly with the wall but rested securely on the ledge.

  Juliana nodded. “What’s more, now the trip won’t be nearly as terrifying since, if I extend my arm, I can brush my fingertips along the wall for balance.”

  “See?” He tapped his temple with a forefinger. “Those Egyptians were crafty.”

  “But they’d never met a King’s agent,” she added, and he adored the confidence flooding her tone. This adventure was what she needed to find that again and to banish the lingering memories. “We’re loads more clever.”

  “Indeed.” Crispin retrieved the original plank. With her assistance he brought it over, and once again sliding the plank out over the dark abyss, he then rested the edge in his hands on the plank they’d placed diagonal over the corner. “It’s a perfect fit.”

  “You are so smart.” She wiped her hands on the front of her gown. “Shall I carry over a lantern?”

  “It would be best.” All gaiety faded as the task at hand intruded. “Please go carefully.”

  “I will.” Juliana grabbed a lantern. It swung from her fingers by its wired handle. With slow steps, she approached the shorter plank. She drew in a deep breath and then let it ease out from between her lips. “Now or never, right?”

  “If anything feels wrong, come back.” His chest tightened to the point of pain with worry. This wasn’t how a gentleman should act. Never should he let a woman go forward into danger before him, but Juliana was special, and she was an agent. Still, the protective instincts that always flared when around her did so now. Perhaps it was a way for them both to grow as people. “Good luck.”

  “Thank you.” The hand holding the lantern shook as she stepped onto the shorter plank.

  Crispin’s heart felt lodged in his throat as she inched closer to the longer board. “Steady now. Go as slowly as you wish.” He followed her to the ledge’s cutoff. “We are under no time constraints.”

  “I am aware,” she replied in a tense, sing-song voice. “Please don’t talk. The rumble of your voice is distracting.”

  He nodded even though her back was to him.

  Then she eased a foot on the longer plank. As she put her full weight onto the board and lifted her other foot to take a step, the unmistakable sound of wood snapping filled the air. The plank shattered, broke into two pieces, and she screamed. The horrible, frantic cry echoed off the walls of the passageway.

  “Juliana!” As she fell, Crispin didn’t think, he only reacted. He threw himself down, half on the ledge and half on the shorter plank. While he did, he thrust out his left hand despite the twinge of pain in his weak shoulder. With a prayer, he grabbed her wrist and she slammed hard into the wall beneath him. Agony shot through his joint as her full weight dangled from his hand, but he clenched his jaw and held on. The lantern shattered, the pieces tumbling into the abyss. His pulse pounded as if he’d run to Egypt from England without stopping. “Sweetheart, you need to give me your other hand. I cannot hold you with this one for long.”

  “Don’t let go.” Terror wove through her request.

  “I won’t, but you’ll have to trust me.” If they didn’t hurry, his shoulder would dislocate again, and he’d lose her. I refuse to let that happen. “Your hand,” he demanded around gritted teeth, and he extended his other one. “Now!”

  She followed his dictate, and when he curled his fingers about her wrist, her muscles went taut.

  “Help me as I pull you up.”

  “I’m trying.” The scuff of her boots on the wall told him as much.

  He wriggled his body backward as best he could, and all the while he tugged her with him. Slowly, inch by painful inch, her head appeared. She swung a leg
upward and hooked it over the shorter plank. That gave him the additional leverage he needed to complete the rescue. “Don’t kick out the plank else we’ll never get across,” he warned, and with one last yank, he had her up and over the ledge with him. Once she was safe, he flopped onto his back, his chest heaving, his shoulder aching like the very devil, and his heart racing.

  In that brief moment, she’d trusted him enough to put her life, literally, into his hands. When she collapsed onto the floor beside him, crying and shaking, he wrapped his arms around her. “Shh, you’re all right.” Then, because he couldn’t trust himself to say more, he claimed her mouth with a forceful kiss. Crispin pressed kisses to the corners of her lips, her cheeks, her closed eyelids. He kissed away her tears until he was certain she’d suffered no ill-effects. “Don’t do that to me again. My heart cannot take it.”

  For when she’d nearly been lost to the void, that long-stretching second when she’d been suspended above the darkness, he’d realized something else—he was irrevocably and hopelessly in love with her, couldn’t imagine a life without her.

  Her laughter had a nervous and anxious air about it. “I hadn’t planned on doing that the first time.” Avoiding his gaze, Juliana scrambled to her feet. “Shall we push on before my courage fails me altogether?”

  “Uh, of course.” He was in awe of her bravery, of her determination to continue despite the near-death setback. Quickly, he gained his footing and willed his heartbeat to settle. Once he’d retrieved another plank, he then slid it across the chasm with her help, but he also tested the weight and the wedge of the short plank. It remained firmly in place.

  Juliana took a deep breath as she picked up a second lantern. “Let us hope that history doesn’t repeat itself,” she whispered, and in the faint light, lines of strain crossed her expression.

  “You don’t need to do this.” The pain in his chest throbbed in time to his shoulder.

  “Oh, but I do.” Then she stepped upon the small plank and slowly put one foot onto the other board. When it held her weight, they both sighed and she continued onward.