If Not for the Duke, page 17
“Should you be up and about?” he asked, his hand pausing mid-air from reaching for his coffee.
“My head is a bit better today.” She patted his shoulder as she passed by to take the seat Foster held for her. The pat didn’t reassure him in the least.
“Only a bit?” That didn’t sound like enough improvement to justify her presence at the breakfast table. He would much rather she stayed abed.
“You must not worry so, Sterling.” She smiled as Foster poured her tea. “I will rest later if I feel worse. For now, I would much prefer to have something to occupy my thoughts other than my aching head. And I’m hungry.”
He frowned, able to see her point, but hoped she wasn’t pushing herself too quickly.
“Did you speak with Lena?” She took a piece of sausage along with some scrambled eggs, which helped to convince him that her appetite hadn’t diminished.
He shared a small portion of his conversation with Lena, reluctant to say too much about her insistence that Clarke was digging in the wrong location. He didn’t pretend to understand why Lena held that opinion.
“Did her servants see anything helpful?”
“Unfortunately, not. The driver heard a carriage leaving soon after he arrived, which might’ve been the thief. But he paid it no mind at the time and could offer nothing in the way of a description.” He took a sip of his coffee as he watched Bernie spread butter and jam on her toast.
Her face was still pale, and he had the feeling she was doing her best to pretend she felt better than she did. He couldn’t blame her. He wouldn’t have liked to stay in bed either.
She held his gaze for a long moment before biting her lip, a sure sign of her upset. “Do you feel we need to take extra care when going out?”
He set down his cup, detesting that she was nervous to continue with her normal routine. “I have requested extra footmen to remain on duty for the foreseeable future. An extra one will accompany you everywhere you go, as well.”
She nodded. “The police haven’t found anything of interest either, I assume.”
“No.” He didn’t want to lie and give her false hope. “Apparently, this treasure hunting business is more dangerous than I initially thought. We may have to take extra precautions while Clarke is working.”
Her smile eased the tightness in his chest. “It will be worth it if he finds treasure.”
Had David Wright worried about his family while he was searching on the island? Surely, he had. It was impossible to keep such things secret. Most treasure hunters seemed to thrive on the notoriety they often gained. For some, it fueled them as much as the search for riches.
“Can you think of anything, in particular, you’ve found in your research that might cause interest in the search?” he asked.
“I was wondering the same thing. How can those old letters cause someone to break into our home?” She shook her head but did so slowly as if it still hurt. “Thank goodness Lena had the letters or they might have been stolen, too.”
“I think the time has come to make certain Clarke is doing what he claims to be doing.”
“How do you intend to do that?” Her eyes widened in alarm. “Surely, you’re not going to Oak Island?”
“No.” He wouldn’t leave Bernie alone after what had happened. “I have an acquaintance in Nova Scotia who should be able to look in on him with some discretion.”
“That’s an excellent idea. Will you tell Lena?”
He paused, considering the question. “I don’t see the point until I have something to report. If all is as it should be, then I won’t have any news.”
“But recent events have you wondering.”
“Yes, they do.” He told himself it was wise to protect the investment he was making in the dig, and it was. But Lena’s insistence that Clarke was searching in the wrong place combined with the break-in made him uncomfortable.
Something foul was afoot and he was determined to find out what.
He excused himself from Bernie’s company and then went to his study to compose a telegram to the man he knew in Nova Scotia, hoping he’d be agreeable to assisting him with this matter. Afterward, he leaned back in his chair, considering what to do next.
He needed to discover the identity of Ludham’s companion. A few inquiries with fellow members of the Royal Geological Society would be an excellent place to start. He should’ve taken action when he’d first overhead Ludham’s conversation. By letting the matter go this long, Sterling was partially at fault for what had happened to his sister.
The thought had him ringing the bell for his carriage. A few members were always at the offices and perhaps one could identify who Ludham had been speaking with if Sterling described him.
Sterling was pleased to see Viscount Dyke there, as he always seemed to know what was happening amongst his peers.
Sterling struck up a conversation with him, waiting until Dyke asked about the progress on Oak Island. Sure enough, he did. Sterling shared a few details but decided against telling him about Bernie’s injury or the break-in. The fewer who knew, the better.
“Did you place a wager like so many others?” Sterling asked.
“No,” Dyke said with a shake of his head. “I prefer to wager on cards. Improves my chances of winning.”
“Do you know if Ludham placed a wager?”
“Yes, but he’s betting against your success.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Ludham had never been friendly, not even in their university years. He seemed to resent Sterling’s title and everything it brought. “I saw him with someone at the Stanhope ball. A short man near our age. Brown hair, round face, moustache.”
“Sounds like David Winslow. The pair frequently venture to gaming hells together.”
“Do you know much about him?” Sterling asked.
“Only that he always seems to have some scheme or other up his sleeve. He tried to talk me into investing in a Brazilian mine not long ago.”
“Did you?”
“No. I like to keep my money in England where I can watch over it.” He stilled, regret flashing across his face. “Terribly sorry, Your Grace. I meant no offense.”
“None taken. Any idea where I could find Winslow?” Sterling had no idea what he might ask the man if he had the chance to speak with him that wouldn’t put both Ludham and him on guard. But it wouldn’t hurt to learn more while he had the chance.
“I believe he’s a member of the Exploration Club.”
Sterling nodded. The club had started over fifty years ago by a group of friends who determined the organization was the best way to be certain they didn’t drift apart. While a few of the members had gone on expeditions, most simply enjoyed talking about the trips others had taken. The last Sterling heard the group numbered well over fifty. Several were members of the Royal Geological Society, but not all.
The focus of the club tended to be social in nature rather than scientific. There was nothing wrong with that as far as Sterling was concerned. Any reason men gathered to have an intelligent conversation was fine.
“Do you know if Ludham is a member, as well?” Sterling asked.
“Yes, I’m sure of it.” He frowned. “Many of the Royal Geological Society members are.”
Sterling nodded. “I’m aware. Just curious about Ludham.”
“I believe they meet this evening, so you might find them there at some point,” Dyke advised.
It would be simple enough to drop by to see what more he could discover about Winslow. Perhaps he would be there, and Sterling could ask a few direct questions.
After thanking Dyke for his time, Sterling took the carriage to Albemarle Street, which wasn’t far. He entered the establishment with the faint hope of finding his quarry but was soon directed by one of the members to a reception room where several familiar faces were enjoying a drink and a lively discussion.
If he didn’t know better, he would almost think Winslow stiffened at the sight of him. How interesting.
Sterling exchanged pleasantries with a few of the men before looking directly at Winslow, who had eased back a few steps as if wishing to avoid him. “Winslow, might I have a word?”
The man glanced at his companions, suggesting he hoped they might provide an acceptable reason for him to refuse. No one said a word.
“Of course, Your Grace.” He bowed and gestured toward the opposite side of the room.
Sterling decided to get straight to the point. “I understand you’re acquainted with Walter Clarke.”
“Clarke?” He frowned as if trying to place the name.
“I’m sure you remember him,” Sterling insisted, trying to hold onto his patience. “He’s leading the dig on Oak Island at the present time.”
“Oh, yes. Right. I have heard of him.” Winslow tilted his head. “Do you think it’s true? What everyone is saying.”
“What might that be?”
“That he’s digging in the wrong place.”
Sterling did his best to hide his temper. “Where did you hear such nonsense?” How many people had Lena told of her suspicions?
“Several have mentioned it.” Winslow’s brow rose, and his eyes gleamed with amusement.
Sterling knew the man was simply trying to gain a reaction. Still, it was all he could do to keep from giving him the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten under his skin.
It was only logical that Lena would share her theory with her brothers-in-law. While annoying that she stated her claim without proof, she was entitled to her opinion. The best he could hope for was that Clarke provided results. Then no one could deny the truth.
However, there was also the chance she was right. He liked to think he would gracefully admit defeat if that happened. He hoped he wouldn’t have to as he didn’t want to disappoint Bernie.
“Have you been in contact with Clarke?” Sterling asked, returning to the purpose of his visit.
“Me?” His eyes widened in surprise. “Why would I? Have you not heard from him of late?”
“I receive reports on a regular basis.” Sterling hated that he was becoming defensive and allowing his distrust of Clarke to color his response. “I would like to know what you know about Clarke.”
“Very little.” Winslow shrugged. “I’ve only met the man once.”
Sterling nodded reluctantly. He had the feeling that wasn’t completely true, but his questions weren’t getting him anywhere.
He departed soon afterward. Perhaps he’d be better off speaking with Ludham to see if that brought any information to the surface. He was also going to have another conversation with Lena and discover why she was so convinced Clarke was wrong.
Chapter Sixteen
Lena blinked in surprise at Foster’s beaming smile when he opened the door of Renwick House the following day.
“Good afternoon, Miss Wright. What a pleasure to see you.” He swept his arm toward the interior of the home in a welcoming gesture, something he’d never done before. “Please come in.”
“Thank you.” Lena stepped cautiously inside, puzzled at the change in the butler’s demeanor. “I was wondering if Lady Bernice was feeling well enough to receive callers.”
“I’m certain she’ll make an exception for you. If you’d like to wait in the reception room, I’ll advise her you’re here.” His smile turned even brighter, leaving Lena to continue to stare at the servant in disbelief.
“Thank you, Foster.”
Much quicker than she’d expected, she was shown into Bernie’s sitting room, where her friend was resting on the settee with a woven blanket on her lap and a book by her side. “Lena, how lovely of you to call.” She started to rise only to pause when Lena waved her back.
“Please don’t move on my account,” Lena said then dipped into a brief curtsy. “You look far too comfortable to disturb.”
“I confess I haven’t regained my strength since the other night.” She gestured toward the nearby chair for Lena to sit, then touched her head as if to check to see if the bump was still there.
“I think that is normal. Ella had the same experience when she was struck on the head a few years ago.” Lena studied Bernie, noting her pale face and the tightness around her eyes. “How is your head? Still aching?”
Bernie glanced at the doorway. “A little, but please don’t tell Sterling or my aunt,” she whispered. “They are already driving me mad with their overprotectiveness.” She sighed. “My head is improving, but I’m sure it will take another day or two. Sterling acts as if I should be recovered completely or something must be wrong. It reminds me of my youth, and those years are nothing I want to relive.”
“You were often ill?” Lena couldn’t imagine enduring a lengthy illness, especially with a father less than patient or supportive.
“My heart doesn’t always beat at a steady pace. It frightened me when it first happened. The more it scared me, the more often it seemed to occur. Father had doctor after doctor examine me, insisting they should be able to heal me. When that didn’t happen, he began to believe the fault was mine.” She closed her eyes briefly, which told Lena just how painful the memories were. “I tried very hard to fix it without success.”
“I’m sure the strain didn’t help your condition.” Sympathy filled Lena for the scared little girl with no mother or sisters to comfort her. “Thank goodness you had Sterling.”
“Yes.” Bernie forced a smile. “But life was difficult when he was gone at school. I found it easier to remain in bed, feigning illness even when I was well just so I wouldn’t have to face Father.”
“How clever of you.”
Bernie frowned. “Clever? I think you mean cowardly.”
“Not at all,” Lena insisted. “What purpose would be served by enduring your father’s unhelpful comments? Better to preserve your strength and mental fortitude.”
The younger woman seemed to consider that before slowly nodding. “I suppose I never thought of it quite like that.”
“Self-preservation is a skill everyone should learn.” Lena knew that from personal experience. How often had she avoided questions, changed the subject of conversations, or outright lied to avoid speaking of her gift? More times than she could count. She didn’t like having to do so but felt she had little choice. Not if she wanted to keep her ability a secret.
“How interesting.” Bernie stared at her in surprise. “I will have to think upon that. It certainly changes how I’ve always thought of myself.”
“What does?” Sterling asked from the doorway. Then his gaze shifted to Lena, quickening her pulse. “Good afternoon.”
Lena stood to curtsy and did her best to hide her reaction. “And to you, Your Grace.”
When Sterling’s attention returned to his sister, Lena took the opportunity to study him. He truly was handsome, his features refined, giving him an aristocratic look. His honey-colored hair was a variety of shades and made her long to run her fingers through it. The careless tousle of the waves made it look like he had recently done that very thing.
Then those compelling brown eyes that seemed to see right through her latched onto her again, stealing her breath. Was that heat in their depths or was she imagining things? Even so, her body warmed in response.
Her reaction to him remained a puzzle. She wanted to share another kiss with him, yet a small part of her insisted she keep her distance if she wanted to remain safe.
She no longer wanted to be safe.
The realization came as a surprise. A shock even. Especially since she knew any sort of true relationship with him was impossible when she had to keep her ability a secret.
Wasn’t it?
When she was near Sterling, she began to wonder. To hope. Was there a chance he might understand? That he wouldn’t stare at her with the suspicion so often in his eyes?
Lena tore her gaze away from him, only to realize she’d lost track of the conversation. With a stern reminder to pay attention, she focused on what Bernie was saying.
“Just this morning, the cook told me she had a feeling that evening before dinner that something bad was going to happen,” Bernie continued. “If only she’d told me, then perhaps I would’ve taken more care.”
“You can’t be serious, Bernie,” Sterling said as he walked forward to join his sister on the settee. “You should know by now that Mrs. Roberts is always having those feelings and rarely do they mean anything.” He frowned then shook his head. “In fact, I think the only time she happens to be right is when she tells us afterward. You mustn’t listen to such nonsense.”
A lump of emotion lodged in Lena’s throat, threatening to bring tears to her eyes. She’d known that would be his response. After all, it was similar to everyone else’s. Few believed intuition could be trusted. How could she blame him when she didn’t always trust it either? He was a practical, pragmatic man. He would not be looked upon favorably if he believed in nonsensical things.
Still, his reaction stung.
“I don’t know,” Bernie countered, her lips twisting to the side as she considered the matter. “I think there is something to it. You have admitted to having a bad feeling on more than one occasion. You are often right.”
“That’s hardly the same thing. When presented with a set of circumstances, we all have a response to the possible outcome based on our past experiences. An instinct, if you will. You have that as well.” His gaze shifted to Lena again. “I’m certain Miss Wright does, too.”
“Do you, Lena?” Bernie asked.
Lena couldn’t believe she was having this conversation. Yet both Sterling and Bernie watched her with expectant looks. “I suppose I do.” Hopefully, the answer was noncommittal enough to satisfy them but hide how uncomfortable she was.
Sterling’s eyes narrowed, tightening her stomach. There was no possibility of him knowing that she wasn’t telling the full truth. Was there?
*
Sterling watched Lena closely as Bernie continued to share several other stories of the cook’s supposed ability to foresee trouble. The older woman tended to see trouble in nearly everything. If Bernie would pay more attention, she’d see how often Mrs. Roberts mentioned her feeling after an event had occurred.
