Romancing the Earl (3 page)

“I’m sure it’s fascinating. I can see that you’re quite passionate about the subject.” His tone suggested a
but
. “However,”—
and here it came—
“you’re using a document written by a storyteller as your ‘evidence.’ Pardon me if I remain skeptical.”

Cate was used to opposition and refused to let his bother her. “More like bull-headed,” she muttered. She inhaled deeply and tried again. “My father has a poem—a copy, actually—written by a sixth-century scribe who was a contemporary of Gareth. He documented the exploits of Arthur and his knights and their acquisition of the thirteen treasures of Britain, one of which is a sword: Dyrnwyn. That this information was recorded during or shortly after their lifetimes is proof enough for me. I’m afraid I can’t offer you a birth or death notice for any of them, but perhaps you’ll credit my research instead.”

He listened to everything with apparent interest, but she couldn’t be sure what was going on behind his distractingly attractive eyes. “If proof exists that Arthur actually lived, why hasn’t that been publicized? Or did I miss that while I was in Australia?”

That was actually a question she shared. She’d found the poem hidden away in her father’s study and since he openly shared all of his documents, she had to imagine he’d kept it secret for a reason. Even from her. “I don’t know, but I don’t see how that matters.”

“So you say, but perhaps your father’s poem isn’t authentic. You did say it was a copy. It could be an outright fabrication.”

In her father’s handwriting.
He would never contrive such a thing. The normally tight control she kept on her temper snapped. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, you are an infuriating person, aren’t you?”

His brows shot up briefly. “In fact, I have been accused of that on occasion. Just ask my mother,” he murmured. “My apologies. I am only trying to ascertain the facts. Like you, I prefer evidence and logic.”

That he recognized her as a logical mind soothed her ire considerably. She inclined her head. “Indeed. Please take my word that this poem authenticates the knights’ existence. Would it help to know that one of the thirteen treasures has already been found—that it’s in the Ashmolean Museum?”

She held her breath, hopeful that she’d finally broken through his stubborn skepticism.

He exhaled softly. “Miss Bowen, I sympathize with your plight, but I am, quite frankly, too busy in my new role to provide assistance. I’m afraid you’ll have to conduct your quest elsewhere.” He stood.

She scrambled to her feet, frustration rioting through her. She cast a glance at Grey, who glared daggers at Lord Norris. “My lord, if you would only let me search the estate, I promise I won’t be a bother.” At his incredulous look, she rushed to add, “And of course, I would notify you the moment I found it. I shan’t take the tapestry away from Cosgrove without your knowledge.”

“Steal it, you mean? How comforting. Perhaps I failed to mention that my brother indicated in his letter that the map was no longer at Cosgrove.” He massaged the bridge of his nose with this thumb and forefinger. “Miss Bowen, I have many business matters to attend. I do thank you for stopping by.” He turned his body so that the angle indicated a clear path to the door.

Cate gave Grey a resigned look and strode toward the door. “Thank you for your time today. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Indeed. Garber will see you out.”

The butler appeared and showed Cate and Grey to the door. Cate held her head high and tried not to be discouraged.
 

And failed miserably.

Chapter Two

O
nce they were outside, Cate tightened the ribbons of her bonnet and tossed a glare at the imposing façade of Cosgrove. “What an imperious, arrogant man.”

“He’s a major and an earl. What did you expect?” Grey asked.

“I was hoping for someone more . . . amenable.”

They turned and strolled down the drive. It was only a two-mile walk back to Bassett Manor and neither one of them was a stranger to exercise. In fact, they enjoyed it, particularly Grey, who was fond of all manner of manly pursuits, such as boxing, riding astride, and swordplay. She was also a crack shot and had taught Cate to fire a pistol with considerable accuracy.

“It wasn’t a pointless errand,” Grey said, her long stride demanding that Cate walk briskly beside her. “You at least learned that the map is hidden somewhere and not simply lost.”

While that was true, Cate was disappointed Lord Norris wasn’t going to be of assistance. “It may as well be. It could be anywhere. The former Lord Norris sounds as though he was a featherbrain. Who knows what he might have done with the tapestry?” The notion that it was gone forever made her stomach turn.

“This may not be the only way to find the treasure. Perhaps there’s another clue.”

Cate appreciated Grey’s optimism. She always tried to find a way around things—it was one of the traits that had drawn them together when Cate had been just twenty. She’d been traveling with her parents and wanted to sneak out of the inn to see a bawdy play. She’d almost made it when she’d run into Grey who’d been working at the inn as a maid. Instead of turning Cate in to her parents, Grey had helped her to escape and they’d gone to the play together. After that, Cate had convinced her parents to hire Grey as her personal maid. “And how would I find this supposed clue?”

“Back in Lord Septon’s secret library would be a place to start,” Grey said with a touch of irony.

Where Cate had found the document about the tapestry being a map in the first place. Septon, a close friend of her father’s, was one of England’s premier antiquaries and had taught Cate much of what she knew about antiquities. If Lord Norris thought Cosgrove’s collection was overdone, he’d be completely overwhelmed by Septon House. A veritable museum, it also contained Septon’s secret library, which Cate had seen once as a child.
 

After Cate had found the poem in her father’s study, she’d renewed her quest for information about the thirteen treasures, particularly Dyrnwyn. She’d thought of Septon’s library, and she and Grey had contrived to find their way inside. “You’re willing to sneak back in?”

Grey shrugged. “Getting the key was the hardest part, and I can do that again.”

Cate wasn’t even exactly sure how Grey had obtained the key. She’d asked, but Grey hadn’t ever directly said. Cate had long ago learned to trust Grey to do what needed to be done. “Yes, but will I be so lucky in finding something a second time? Assuming another clue even exists.”

“I think you can find anything you put your mind to,” Grey said.

Cate appreciated her companion’s confidence. It was nice to know that at least one person in the world believed in her completely. “Norris knows more than he’s saying.”

Grey glanced at her as they crested a small hill. “You want another crack at him.”

“I do.” Cate’s boots scraped over the dry earth. The day was warm, and perspiration gathered at the small of her back. “It should be easy to persuade Miranda to host a dinner party and invite Lord Norris.”

“Certainly. Lady Miranda is always eager to entertain.”

Cate’s hostess was also Septon’s goddaughter and, as such, an old friend of Cate’s. Unlike Cate, however, she’d been raised a Society miss and though she’d come to adore life in the country, she never missed an opportunity to open up her home. And Cate knew Miranda was looking for a reason to invite the new Lord Norris to Bassett Manor. “My thoughts exactly. I’ll speak to her as soon as we get back.”

“What do you think Norris is hiding?” Grey asked.

“I can’t believe that he has no idea whatsoever about where to look for the tapestry. I think it’s fair to assume he was genuine in his surprise at learning his brother’s claim was true—that there is a map to a treasure. And I think it follows that he’s now considering all he’s learned and perhaps trying to determine where it could be.”

“If he finds it, what makes you think he’ll tell you?”

“He said he plans to sell the entire collection. Why wouldn’t he sell it to me? I offered him a fair price.”

“Until someone offers him more,” Grey said darkly, echoing the thoughts seeping into Cate’s mind. Someone had already approached the previous Lord Norris about the tapestry, and she imagined that Septon would want to obtain it as well. He could offer a far greater sum than her two hundred pounds.

Cate stepped through a gap in a four-foot-tall hedge. “I’m simply going to have to persuade him to sell it to me and no one else.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“I’m not sure.” Cate tried to think of something he might want, something with which she could barter. If she could offer him something in return, something beyond money, perhaps he’d let her buy the tapestry. A knot of frustration formed between her shoulder blades. None of this mattered if he didn’t actually
find
the tapestry in the first place. She could only hope he would look for it.

They walked in silence for several minutes, Cate’s mind churning with thoughts and contingency plans.

“What about the previous Lord Norris’s death?” Grey asked. “If Lord Norris suspects it may not have been an accident, shouldn’t we do the same?”

This was one of the many concerns weighing on Cate. Yes, the previous Lord Norris may have been prone to an excessive imagination, but he’d known the tapestry was a map. How would he have learned that? “Do you suppose whoever tried to buy the tapestry told him it was a map? How else would he have known?”

Grey frowned. She looked over at Cate, her green-brown eyes squinting against the bright afternoon, despite the brim of her hat. “But why would they have told him? It makes more sense to let him think it’s just an old tapestry.”

“Agreed.” She pressed her lips together and kicked at a small rock, sending it bouncing across the uneven ground. “My brilliant plan to find Dyrnwyn and surprise the world with my discovery just became a good deal more complicated.”

From the comfort of his leather desk chair, Elijah stared out at the sloping lawn. The visit from Miss Bowen had thrown him into a bit of turmoil, and he wasn’t yet certain if that was good or bad. The good was Miss Bowen. She was an unexpected acquaintance and one he thought he might like—if he’d wanted to make the acquaintance of a young woman, which he hadn’t. He wasn’t in the market for a wife and never planned to be. He’d been forced into his current role and he’d be damned if he’d change everything about himself to suit it. He’d envisioned and accepted a lonely life. Given his own experiences, he would be far happier that way. The alternative was pain and misery.

On second thought, perhaps Miss Bowen wasn’t the good after all.

The bad were the questions he now had about this tapestry-map and any role it might’ve played in his brother’s death. He’d gone from simply mourning his brother to wondering if there was something nefarious afoot. He’d told Miss Bowen he didn’t have time for such things, but in truth, he found this puzzle far more intriguing than learning how to be a bloody earl.

After she and her companion had left an hour or so ago, he’d sent for his valet, Wade, and shared everything he’d learned. Barnabas Wade had been Elijah’s batman in Australia and had accepted Elijah’s invitation to accompany him to England. He was both servant and friend—the only one Elijah had.

“My lord?” Wade had gone to fetch Garber, the butler who’d been at Cosgrove for going on fifteen years.

Elijah tried not to wince as he turned his head toward the doorway. He was so used to “Major,” especially from Wade.