The de Valery Code (26 page)

Margery glanced at him. “I hate to take her away from her regular job.”

“Please don’t concern yourself,” Thomas said. “She was more than pleased to obtain some experience as a lady’s maid.”

It seemed she was helping the young woman, which made Margery quite happy. “Then I’m delighted she could join us.” She smiled at Jane.

Rhys came over and set his hat upon his head. “Ready?”

She gestured toward the vehicle. “Are the books and the glass already inside?”

“The books are. The glass is in my pocket.” His eyes were dark and inscrutable. “After you.”

Margery turned and gave Penn’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll see you soon. Be good.”

He nodded at her, and she went to the carriage, where Craddock helped her climb in.

“Are you riding inside with us, Jane?” Margery asked.

“If it’s just the same, I’ll ride up top with my brother.”

Margery would’ve liked the buffer between her and Rhys inside the carriage, but wouldn’t begrudge the young woman’s enjoyment of such a fine summer day. “Very good.”

The de Valery manuscripts were in their bags on the forward-facing seat, where she situated herself. A few moments later, Rhys joined her, sitting on the opposite cushion. The coach moved forward and rattled along the pebbled drive.

Rhys gave her a hard look. He seemed perturbed. “Why did you tell Penn you’d see him soon?”

She brushed her hands along her skirts, smoothing the folds of her traveling dress. “Are we not coming back here as soon as tomorrow?”

“
Are
you coming back here?” His tone held a barely concealed thread of irritation.

“I, ah, I promised Penn I would come back after we found the treasure and show it to him.” She cocked her head to the side, growing uncomfortable with his suppressed anger. “Do you take issue with that plan?”

“I do not. But I daresay our plans are not in alignment. I still contend we must be married.”

She’d expected this, but she was resolute. “And I still contend it isn’t necessary.”

“I insist.”

“You do like to insist on things,” she muttered. “It’s not up to you to insist.”

“I’ve written to your aunts to ask for your hand.”

She lurched forward in her seat. “You
what
?”

“I dispatched a letter this morning stating my desire to wed you.”

Aunt Eugenie would be ecstatic. Aunt Agnes would be too—if Margery wanted this, which she did
not
. Moreover, she didn’t want them involved. They’d worry or try to manage or attempt to persuade her to open herself up. “You had no right to do that, especially after I declined your proposal. I don’t wish to marry you and if you want to continue our partnership to find the treasure, I
insist
you cease. Otherwise, we shall have to part company.”

He muttered something under his breath. “You would be that foolish.” He crossed his arms and looked out the window.

They rode in silence for a while before Margery deemed it safe to broach conversation again. Given his black mood, she thought it best to start with something pleasant. “Thank you for allowing Penn the cat.”

He peered at her askance, his eyebrow climbing. “You didn’t give me much choice.”

Maybe not pleasant, but he didn’t seem to be as angry as he had been.
Good.
She hoped they could move past their indiscretion.

“What is your plan once we arrive in Caerwent?”

He unfolded his arms and sat back against the squab. He looked at her briefly, but for the most part kept his gaze averted. “We’ll go to the church. Perhaps we’ll find the name Anarawd in the cemetery or somewhere inside.”

“Excellent thinking.” She expected him to thank her or say something else that revealed his imperious streak, but he did nothing of the sort. He was well and truly angry with her.
 

“If that fails, we’ll visit Septon at his cottage and discuss the matter with him.”

She hated to disagree with Rhys given his current temper, but there was no hope for it. “I’m not sure that’s wise. We’ve already discussed the need for secrecy.”

“Now that we know the Order has been after your book from the start, I think it’s safe to discuss this with my colleague. I’ve known him for years and I trust him implicitly.”

“So you’ve said.”

He threw the full weight of an angry stare at her. “I’ve suffered your doubt and your deception, but on this we will do things my way. If you disagree, you are welcome to return to Gloucester. As I’ve offered before, I will even pay your way.”

Since telling her about the treasure and agreeing to an alliance, he’d given her no reason not to trust him. If he believed Lord Septon could help them and keep their secret, she shouldn’t contradict him. They were, after all, partners, and they’d come too far to split up now, regardless of any threat she made. And maybe it was simply time she let faith in someone else guide her.

“As you wish. We’ll meet with Lord Septon.”

His eyes flashed briefly with surprise, but then he gave a nod and went back to staring out the window.

At last she felt a pang of regret about the night before. It didn’t stem from the choice she’d made, but from the results of her actions. She’d pursued what she’d wanted without considering Rhys’s involvement. It was one thing to guard one’s heart and another to ignore someone else’s.
 

“I’m sorry about what happened last night. Initiating that was insensitive on my part, but I did it without any expectations. You mustn’t feel obligated to marry me.”

His gaze was shuttered, his emotions impossible to detect. “It mustn’t happen again.” He clenched his jaw and glanced away as if he remembered that they’d agreed not to let the kissing happen again . . . and look what that had accomplished.

“It won’t.”

She was surprised by how sad that made her.

Chapter Fifteen

They’d traveled most of the ride in silence and now as they neared Caerwent, Rhys finally began to relax. He’d spent the journey feeling alternately frustrated by Margery’s continued refusal of his proposal and shockingly relieved by it.

He averted his eyes from her for the hundredth time and looked at the passing scenery. Last night had been revelatory—both about her and about himself. He’d never imagined he would cross the line of taking a young lady’s virginity and he was thoroughly vexed with himself. He also couldn’t quite bring himself to regret it. The event had been far too spectacular, and he’d recall it with fondness for the rest of his days, no matter whom he married or
if
he married.

Rhys had figured he’d follow in his father’s footsteps in this, as in everything. Father had wed late in life, not because he’d planned to, but because the desire had struck. Though Rhys wasn’t yet that old, desire had
also
struck. Yet, wanting Margery wasn’t the same as wanting to marry her. And her point about obligation was well taken.
 

It would be difficult not to at least contemplate repeating last night’s delightful experience, but he’d try. He only hoped they could both do better than when they’d agreed to not kiss. It was bad enough to fall into each other’s arms once, but twice would be sheer lunacy.

The coach slowed as it entered the outskirts of Caerwent. Margery scooted closer to the window and peered outside. “Is that the original Roman wall?”

“Yes, there are quite a few ruins around the town,” Rhys said. He’d visited the small village of Caerwent many times, but his first trip, with his father when he’d been nine, stuck with him the most. They’d spent several days touring the various Roman sites. The wall around the town was still quite impressive. It had ignited Rhys’s interest in antiquarian matters—something his father had hoped for.

“Will we have time to see them?” Margery asked, her face glued to the window.

He hadn’t planned on doing anything other than searching for the treasure. They’d do their best to find it in the next day or two, but if they didn’t, they’d need to assess the situation. How long could she keep traipsing across western England and southeastern Wales with a gentleman who wasn’t her husband? She’d been gone ten days. Her aunts had to be concerned.
 

Her aunts.

He wished he hadn’t written to them about marrying Margery. However, since Margery had refused him, it would be a moot issue and he could simply forget he’d ever done it.

When he didn’t answer her query about the ruins, she turned from the window to look at him.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “I suppose it depends on what we find. I thought it would be best to return you to Gloucester as soon as possible.”

She pressed her hand to the side of the coach as they hit a rut. “I’ve sent word to my aunts not to worry, though now I don’t know what they’re going to think . . .” She looked back out the window.

“They’ll think nothing. You’ll tell them you refused my offer and that will be the end of it.” He glanced at the other window. “We’re nearing the church.”

He felt her gaze on him, but didn’t return it. The coach turned up the lane to the church and finally came to a halt. He didn’t wait for Craddock to open the door or let out the stairs. He jumped down, pulled the stairs free himself, and helped her step onto the dry earth. Sparks leapt when he touched her, despite their gloves, but he ignored the sensation. He’d do best to forget what had happened last night and pretend that whatever residual attraction remained between them didn’t exist.

If she felt anything, her expression didn’t betray it. “What about the books?”

“I’ve instructed Craddock to guard them and to keep watch. He’s armed.” He gave her a dark look. “As am I.”

“How thoughtful of you, particularly since I left Lady Stratton’s pistols at Hollyhaven.” she murmured. “What of Jane?”

“Craddock will keep her safe.” He took her elbow. “Come, let us move inside and complete our search quickly.”

They walked briskly into the porch, which housed the Silurum Stone, bearing ancient, Latin lettering.
 

Rhys heard Margery’s intake of breath and gave her a brief, whispered history. “It is thought to have been the base of a statue in honor of Paulinus, legate of the second Augustan Legion.”

She looked at the stone with reverence and keen interest. “How old is it?”

“The third century.” He looked around the small porch, but didn’t see anything different from his last visit here, maybe three years prior. Had he expected the name Anarawd to leap out at them?

They moved into the church. It was mostly empty save a single person sitting in a pew, his head bent. Probably nothing, but Rhys didn’t want to take any chances. “Let’s go out to the cemetery.”

He tightened his grip on her elbow and led her out through another exit into the churchyard. No one followed them and he relaxed slightly when they were back beneath the clear blue sky where they couldn’t be cornered.

“Shall we split up to look at the gravestones?”

“Yes, but not too far apart. We need to be on our guard.” He let go of her and moved to the corner. “Let’s start here.”

They walked amongst the headstones in silence. Pastoral green farmland stretched in almost every direction. The sparse buildings of the town and many cottages were visible, but the air was quiet, save the occasional bleat of a sheep or the buzz of a bee.

Some people found graveyards eerie or distressing, but to Rhys they were monuments to those who’d come before him. They filled him with a sense of gratitude and belonging. Life and death were the things they all shared.

“Do you find this morbid?” he asked her.

“Not particularly. You probably think me odd.” She shrugged, but kept her focus on the stones. “I think I could spend hours here reading the headstones. All of these people and their rich lives . . . It’s fascinating. And more than a bit humbling.”

Then sometimes Margery had to go and say things like
that
and he wondered if he might like to pursue something more permanent with her. She was . . . a singular female.

Refusing to be distracted by her, he refocused his attention to the task at hand. They’d strolled through half the stones when the sound of a carriage approaching drew both of their heads toward the drive.