A Heart's Treasure (2 page)

Besides schooling and fisticuffs, the four had more in common. All of an age, they were also their father’s eldest sons, although Moreland had two year since lost his papa and himself been raised to the title. So here sat a penny pincher bachelor earl, the cosseted and carefree heir of a marquess, an earl’s wounded and patched son—and then there was Kenneth, admittedly the odd one of their foursome, in that his father was a recently made and mere knight. There would be no title for Kenneth, unless he somehow earned that royal favor himself or his father unexpectedly rose in rank. Still, even though the Manning fortune was newly made and scented by clothmaking and shipping successes, its sheer volume of funds made up ground, which in its turn was supplemented by the younger Mannings’ manners and wit. If Sir Roger were out of the room, it was an easier thing to forget the family fortune was
nouveau.

Titles and inheritances aside, there was another commonality of age: their circle of four had long expanded to include their nearest-in-age sisters. While Laura was two years older than the lads and had once looked down her nose at the “dirty little boys”, the younger Penelope had run, climbed trees, and chased chickens as much as any of them, at least until “her boys” had gone off to school together. Of the four sisters, she was their keenest companion, even to this day.

And here she was again, the lone female in the room as one was missing and two other sisters sought garden shade. The gentlemen were so used to the presence of Penelope’s proportioned face and sensible nature, no one thought to banish her to join the ladies outside.

Kenneth left off staring at the grate, sitting up straight and clearing his throat. Xavier looked his way, increasingly aware Kenneth had been thinking while the rest of them had been half-drowsing.

“I believe the weather means to go on this way,” Kenneth pronounced.

Listless eyes were lifted, and there were murmurs of discouraged agreement.

“But I’ve had a thought,” Kenneth went on, sliding one of his unwitting glances Penelope’s way. Xavier followed the look. When his sister’s stitching hitched but she didn’t look up, he returned his attention to the scorned Kenneth.

“Go on, Manning,” Michael said, lifting a languid hand. The hair resting on his collar was visibly damp.

“You all must agree, surely, there cannot be a more miserable place than a hot and close London.” There were a couple of apathetic nods. “So I thought, why not leave here? I mean to say, travel north. To cooler climes.”

“You mean to abandon us?” Michael said, his eyebrows lifting.

“I mean to take you gentlemen with me.”

At this, even the slouching Haddy looked up with something bordering on interest.

“I propose a treasure hunt, a series of clues to be followed and solved, culminating at my family’s estate, Brockmore, in Cumberland,” Kenneth went on.

“The devil!” Michael cried with what looked like a mix of horror and amusement. Penelope gave him a scolding glance for his language. “Cumberland? You can’t be serious?”

Xavier raised an eyebrow, the motion causing his eye patch to rub lightly over the puckered skin of the scar showing both above and below the black fabric.

Haddy rubbed his chin. “A treasure hunt, you say?”

“Manning,” Xavier put in as Kenneth nodded, “I can’t help but wonder at your proposal. I’m trying to imagine a more uncomfortable experience than tearing north over dusty roads to the middle of nowhere, to have nothing but sheep for company.”

“Come now, Warfield, Brockmore is not the middle of nowhere,” Kenneth protested.

“Perhaps not, but nowhere may be seen from there,” Haddy muttered.

Michael looked between the three other gentlemen, speculation growing in his gaze.

“We’d be gone for weeks,” Xavier added.

“Weeks out of London’s heat,” Penelope pointed out.

No one said it, but surely everyone was thinking such a trip would also take them free of London’s overheated seasonal stink as well, perhaps the most tempting argument for the scheme yet.

Kenneth nodded at Penelope, even if his eyes avoided hers. “As my lady says. Surely that’s to be desired? And why not make some sport upon the road, when here we are all so miserable? It’s been near a nine-month since we went afield in pursuit of sport. It’s time to journey again, surely?”

Michael stood abruptly, a hand going to his heart. “You’ve persuaded me, my good man. My mind is changed.” He turned to the stolid Haddy—yet all but supine—and stretched out a palm-up hand as though making an appeal to the gentleman. “Who knew the summer’s heat would arrive so unfashionably early this year, and be so cruel? And surely Manning is right to think it will be cooler in our northern counties. Let us remove ourselves to some relief. What say you, Moreland?”

Haddy considered a long moment, then half-sat up. “There’s bound to be some shooting up north,” he allowed. His gaze strayed to Xavier; they’d hunted together for years, with Xavier having trained himself into a decent shot despite his handicap.

“True, at Brockmore at least, if we cannot gain some landowner’s permission to take some birds before then,” Xavier agreed.

His sister’s head, with her light brown hair pulled up in a knot that vainly sought to outwit the heat, rose up, needlework neglected in her hands. Penelope sighed aloud, with relief and determination mixed in the sound. “You must bring me and the other ladies along, of course,” she stated. At the sudden silence, she looked with a gimlet eye from face to face.

Xavier stood, taking up his old position leaning against the mantelpiece. He knew better than to argue with that tone and look—but he tried anyway, for the other men had managed nothing beyond stares or sputters where they sat. “What makes you think the other sisters will wish to go? Or that any of their parents would allow such a journey? Or Mama allow you to go, for that matter?”

Penelope lifted a dismissive hand. “Mama will not mind, as I’m useless in helping her as a hostess in this warmth. And Papa won’t say nay if she does not. As for Lord Galton, he has allowed Genevieve to travel with me before. Recall our journey to Kent last fall when Aunt Ophelia took ill and Genny came along to help me. And you must own no-one attempts to tell Michael what he may or may not do, nor where he may go.”

Instead of appearing insulted at the revelation Penelope thought his parent incapable of controlling his behavior, Michael nodded his agreement. “Just so.”

“Haddy is the head of his household,” she went on, “and if he wishes to travel and Summer wishes to accompany him, there is none to stand in their way.” She nodded when Haddy shrugged agreement, and turned to Kenneth, her gaze direct and seemingly unmarked by any ache that might have lingered between them. “But what of you and Laura, Kenneth?” She’d known him too long to have reverted to calling him “Mr. Manning” after that squashed proposal, not least because it would have stood out to the others. Xavier could only admire her eternal poise. “Would Sir Roger approve such a scheme?”

At this, all eyes turned back to Kenneth, whose ears colored a bright red. There was no escaping the fact his father was a tyrant in their household.

“Don’t concern yourselves with what my father will say,” he said. “After all, we only mean to travel to one of our own estates. There is nothing shocking or particularly unusual in that.” He hesitated, then continued, “I shall find a way to see my plans go forward—that is, if everyone agrees we desire to make this journey?”

Xavier refrained from asking if Kenneth merely meant to leave without obtaining any form of permission at all. Still, if that was the case, it was Kenneth’s decision and not his to make. Instead he turned back to his sister. “Nellie,” he used the old pet name, “You must consider that dusty, hot, miserable travel is mainly what you ladies would get for your trouble,” he warned, trying to give her a chance to change her mind.

“As if I would get anything better here in London,” she replied, tossing her needlework aside with a firmness that showed her mind was decided. She proved this by announcing, “In fact, I shall inform the other ladies we mean to do this.”

Xavier watched her move toward the garden, even as he noted the unavoidable line of perspiration that had left a trail down the center of the back of her bodice, to match the one that caused his own fine lawn shirt to stick to his back. It was very like her to make such an instantaneous decision—but he feared she’d not taken a few moments to think it through. What of the presence of the forbidden would-be groom, ever at hand as they traveled? She was resilient and clever and stout of heart…but Xavier feared Penelope might come to regret this impulsive choice.

He moved to position himself to see out the garden door, propped open against the dim hopes of a breeze. He was half of a mind to go and persuade her otherwise, but instead he watched as she approached the shade of a leafy birch tree. It was surrounded by a circular bench, where the two other ladies sat, their faces and pastel gowns dabbled by errant bits of light that had slipped past the tree’s leaf-shade. He saw they’d abandoned their slippers and stockings, their delicate white feet peeping shamelessly from beneath the hems of their gowns.

There was Laura, Kenneth’s older sister, in palest rose, with brown hair that tended toward red in the sunlight, even as it did now. And, in white with yellow embroidery at the sleeves and hems, was Genevieve, Michael’s only sister. Her hair, lashes, and brows were a deep brunette, quite the coloring to make the most of her gown and put one in mind of a wood nymph. Though it must be said hers was no slender, lithe form; she’d the peachy skin and ample hips and bosom of a milkmaid. Xavier felt a flutter, not at all unfamiliar, and allowed himself to observe Genevieve’s excellent gifts a moment longer, but then guiltily moved away to dissuade any others from joining him at such an ungentlemanly endeavor. However, he didn’t turn away before seeing the two ladies nod their heads and clap their hands at Penelope’s proposal.

“It seems we are committed, lads,” he said over his shoulder to the room.

Haddy made a sound half-affirming, half-bothered. He was brother to the only missing sister:  Lady Summer. Her Christian name was actually Rose, but Summer Rose was the phrase that had stuck in babyhood because it fit her dainty beauty and white-blonde hair. So she’d become Summer, no matter what her family Bible stated. She would agree to come on their adventure for Haddy’s sake, yes—but everyone knew it would really be for Michael. Her fiancé would expect it, and they all knew she’d do anything her would-be groom asked of her.

It was as clear as the delicate nose beneath Summer’s sky-blue eyes that she was madly in love with the nonchalant fellow, and just as clear that if he was half so much in love with her, he hid it well. A pity, that. Hers was the kind of personality that created a desire even in the stoniest heart to build her a castle turret that she might live within, beyond the reach of the various ogres and dragons and insults the world invariably threw into any life. Such delicate, sweet-natured creatures as Summer had been the cause of the origins of chivalry, Xavier had no doubt.

He’d no passion for the girl himself, she was too much a piece of eiderdown for such a one as he, but he sighed to think Michael seemingly had no such passion either. Six months since, Xavier had tried to suggest that either a wedding or a release ought to be declared soon—and Michael had risen to so vigorous a denouncement of the idea of crying off, that despite a sense of confusion as to his intentions, none of their circle had offered any such advice since.

“What is to be our plan then, Manning?” Xavier asked, calling himself back to the moment. Just as he spoke the three ladies entered, returned from the garden, bubbling with enthusiasm for the proposal Penelope had carried to them.

“Ladies,” Kenneth said, giving them a small bow and directing his comments toward them. “As to our journey, the clue hunt is rather simple, actually. You know of my studies—”

Haddy and Michael groaned.

“Please,” Kenneth said coolly, silencing them.
“You know of my studies
concerning the folklore of the many counties of England. I have taken clues from those tales, and made up a hunt of sorts. At first I thought it should also be a race, but in truth, what pleasure is there in that? A man—and oh, his sister—” he bowed again to the ladies, acknowledging their fledgling inclusion, “tearing across the countryside, parted from his companions? No, I propose we travel as a group, locating the clues together.”

“I’m confused,” Haddy interjected, the last of the four men to rise to his feet. “We find or take a clue, and all guess at it at once?”

“No, no, not so complicated as that. We’ll take turns, and work to earn a token. If the first team cannot supply the answer, then they receive no token and must pay a forfeit. Then the next team in order will have a go, you see? That’s how we may all be part of a hunt without having to separate. Of course, the team that avoids the most penalties and collects the most tokens, wins.”

“And what do they get for winning?” Laura asked. Being the eldest among the eight, it often fell to her to ask the practical questions.

“I thought perhaps the losing teams must sport the blunt for an exquisite new fan for the winning lady and an equally desirable new snuffbox for the lucky gentleman.”

The ladies nodded, well pleased, quite aware they would not be truly expected to extend anything from their pin money, for their brothers would settle any portion of the wager that could be called theirs.

“But you will know all the answers,” Michael, frowning, pointed out to Kenneth.

“So my partner shall be the only one of us to guess. So if there’s to be a forfeit it must be mine alone, not Laura’s,” he said, naming his sister.

“We play at this hunt with our siblings?” Michael asked at once, frown deepening. “But siblings might think too much alike. Or, worse, bicker like magpies. No, we must stir the pot, by drawing names. One gentleman, one lady.” Looking to the three other gentlemen, he added, “For I certainly don’t care to have any of
you
simpletons as my partners, so I must insist it be a man-woman pairing.”