Authors: Heaven
Bobbi Smith (4 page)
Enoch wondered what kind of life he was giving her, taking her with him as he did. She would never meet a suitable mate in the middle of the desert. But even as he considered leaving Alex behind, he knew he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to travel without her. She was perfect as his assistant. Alex always anticipated his needs before he knew he had them, and he doubted he’d be anywhere near as successful without her. Her keen intellect, clever wit, and undying thirst for knowledge made her invaluable to him. As much as he fretted over her future, he was glad she chose to stay with him. He wouldn’t have known what to do without her any more.
They reached the site of their excavations and began to search again. The fellahin, peasant workers hired to work with them on the dig, soon joined them, and they labored long into the morning. Near ten they were forced to stop, for the blazing sun became too intense for them to continue. They rested until mid-afternoon, then started again. Alex was hot and tired, but she wasn’t ready to quit. They were close and she knew it. She was determined to explore every inch of the area until the entrance to the tomb was found and the crown located.
It was near dusk when they found the tomb but to their horror and disappointment, the entranceway had already been breached. With the workers crowding around them, Alex held the lamp up high so her father could see as he entered the dark burial chamber. Finding the crown had been one of his dreams, and she wanted him to be the first one into the tomb of the prince and princess.
“Alex . . .” Enoch said in an agonized voice. “It’s as we feared. The looters . . .”
Alex followed him inside the dusty room and stared around in horror. The chamber had been ransacked, the mummies stripped of their gold and jewels, their bones strewn about in sacrilege. “It’s been desecrated.”
“And the crown’s been taken . . .” Resignedly, he spoke the terrible truth.
“Father, look!” Alex was holding the lamp near the wall so she could study the hieroglyphics written there.
Enoch came to her side and peered at the writings. “It’s just as we’ve always believed!” Enoch said, a note of awe in his tone. “These writings confirm everything! It’s all here! The story of the prince’s terrible death and the princess’s curse.”
“Look at this, Papa.”
Her voice was soft yet urgent and drew his attention. He turned to find her standing before the doorway they’d just entered. “The inscription over the entrance reads ‘Let only those who possess true love pass this way in peace.’ ” A shiver skittered down her spine as she spoke the words out loud.
“It was true . . . all true.”
They remained in the chamber late into the night, making detailed drawings of the remains. It was after midnight when they emerged.
“If looters stole the crown and brought it out, why didn’t we hear of it?”
“It could have been stolen centuries ago. There’s no way of knowing.”
They stood among the ruins in silence, breathing in the fresh night air. The knowledge that the crown had been stolen and probably destroyed filled both father and daughter with a great sadness.
“I don’t know how we’ll ever find it now.” Alex said with great weariness. Her disappointment ran deep. She’d felt so sure of finding the crown, and now there was nothing more she could do. They would finish working in the tomb, trying to salvage what could be saved, and then they would journey back to their home in Boston, empty-handed. Their dream of returning with the crown had been shattered.
“There’s one important lesson you have yet to learn,” Enoch told her as they walked slowly through the night toward their tents. A full silver moon above lit their way.
“What’s that, Papa?” She turned to face him in the moonlight, her expression serious as she tried to deal with her disappointment over their defeat.
“Never give up your dreams.”
Two
London, 1857
Henry, Lawrence’s personal valet for over thirty years, had just started down the main hall toward the foyer when he heard the sound of angry voices coming from Mr. Anthony’s study. He stopped where he was, uncertain whether to continue on his way or turn a tactful retreat. He hadn’t intended to listen to the argument, but he couldn’t help hearing the loud voices.
“We’re your sons! Your flesh and blood! What do you mean you’re going to cut us off?” Philip’s outraged words could be heard clearly in the hall.
“You heard me, Philip. You, too, Robert.” Lawrence’s voice was strained. “You’ve spent every pound I’ve given you and then some. I refuse to play the indulgent fool any longer. You know what amount I allow you each month, and from this day on, you both are to find a way to live within your means or suffer the consequences!”
“What consequences?” Robert asked.
“I’ll cut you both off. And don’t think this an idle threat.”
“How can you treat us this way?”
“Treat you what way? Try to make you responsible for your actions like most men? I’d say that’s a father’s job, wouldn’t you?”
“You’ll be sorry for this,” Philip declared.
“I’m already sorry. I’m sorry you two behave so irresponsibly. I’m sorry you haven’t learned that there is more to life than drinking and gaming.”
“Some day, you’ll regret this,” Philip said. “Let’s go, Robert. There’s no point in staying. This man who calls himself our father is determined to humiliate us.”
Henry took an instinctive step backward as he heard them crossing the study to the door. Though he was prepared for their appearance in the hall, he still jumped when they burst through the door and stormed out. Henry knew it would be best to remain silent until they’d left the house. As the two men departed, they slammed the front door in testimony to their fury. Henry had long known that things were not good between father and sons, but he still wondered what had happened tonight to touch off such rage in Mr. Philip and Mr. Robert. He approached the study cautiously.
He stopped in the doorway to look in. Mr. Anthony was standing at the window behind his desk, gazing out. His face was pale, his lips were tinged with blue, and his hands were unsteady as he held the curtain back. The look in his eyes was of immense sadness and pain. Henry could tell he was deeply shaken by the encounter that had just taken place and he felt a real concern for his employer and friend of so many years.
“Are you all right, sir?” he softly inquired.
Lawrence was lost in thought and didn’t respond for a moment. For all the years he’d possessed the crown, Lawrence had thought himself safe from the curse. It occurred to him now, heartsick as he was, that he had not been safe from its fury after all. The curse had indeed fallen upon him, but it had come to him not through death or danger, but through his own sons. For years, Philip and Robert had made his life a living hell. This latest quarrel merely reinforced once more the futility of his hope that they would one day come to be men he could love and respect. Drawing a painful breath, Lawrence slowly turned to look at the man who was his friend as well as his servant. “Some days, Henry, I wonder.”
“Is there anything I can do, sir?”
Lawrence paused in silent reflection. He trusted Henry with his very life, which is much more than he could say about his sons. Finally, he said, “Come in and close the door.”
Henry did as he was told while Lawrence went to stand behind the desk.
“There is something you can do for me.” His heart and soul were more weary than he could say. “A favor . . .”
“Yes, sir.” Their gazes met, and the valet could see the agony in the other man’s soul.
“If anything should happen to me . . .”
Henry’s face mirrored the shock he felt at his statement.
“I’m not a young man any more, and we both know my health is not the best. If I should die, there’s something extremely important I need you to do.”
“You only have to name it, sir.”
Lawrence sat at the desk and opened its biggest drawer. “There’s a secret compartment in this drawer. You and I are the only two who know about it.”
He slid the false back out to reveal a compartment that was just big enough to hold the three books inside it.
“If anything happens to me, I want you to see that these books are delivered to the people whose names are on them. Will you do that for me?”
“Of course.”
Lawrence’s troubled expression eased a bit. “Your faithfulness will not go unrewarded, my old friend.”
“I do not require a reward for helping you, sir.” Henry’s reply was stiff, his honor offended.
The older man managed a sad smile. “If my sons possessed one tenth of your devotion and kindness, I would not be doing this . . . But I fear . . .”
“Fear what, sir?”
“Nothing . . . nothing . . . If the time comes when you have to deliver these books, you may not be so glad you’ve given me your word.”
“I’ll deliver them as you’ve instructed.”
Lawrence nodded, knowing Henry would do exactly as he promised. “Just remember, my sons are not to get their hands on these.” His voice hardened as he spoke.
“Yes, sir.”
Knowing he was dismissed, the valet left and closed the door behind him. His thoughts were troubled as he returned to his duties.
When Henry had gone, Lawrence sat down at the desk and took out some paper. He wrote three letters, put one in each book, then quickly wrapped the tomes. That done, he carefully inscribed the names of the three people who, he knew, treasured the Crown of Desire as much as he did.
Book #1, he addressed to Professor Enoch Parker, a man whose love and appreciation of Egyptian history and legend was as strong as his own. The second, he addressed to Matthew McKittrick. Though he’d never met McKittrick, they’d carried on extensive correspondence about the crown for the past six years. Lawrence had discovered him to be not only brilliant, but daring as well. Though the man made his living as a bookseller in the city of Boston, he’d also made several treks to Egypt trying to prove the legend and find the treasure. His feelings for the Crown of Desire were as intense and personal as Lawrence’s own, and he knew McKittrick could be trusted with the second book. The last and most important book he addressed to Edward Bradford. Though Edward had joined the priesthood as a young man, he’d still always remained Lawrence’s best friend and confidante. There was no one Lawrence trusted more. His work done, he returned the books to their hiding place and shut the drawer.
Lawrence sat quietly reflecting on the ugly fight he’d just had with his sons. For many years he’d held out hope that his sons could be redeemed—that there was some good in them—but today’s confrontation had dealt the final blow to his hope. He felt nothing for them now. So foreign were their ways to him that he had trouble believing they had sprung from his and Caroline’s great love. As soon as he could contact his barrister, he would change his will. It was over. He no longer had any sons.
The mood in the smoke-filled game room at Merryfield, the Fulhams’ country estate, was one of hushed anticipation. The gambling had begun after the late meal at seven o’clock, and now, as it neared four in the morning, only three players remained—Justin Davies, Charles Fulham and Winn Bradford. All were peers of the realm, wealthy men, and shrewd gamblers. The crowd of onlookers pressed in close, eager to see which man would triumph.
“Isn’t he wonderful?” Lucy Cardwell whispered to Amelia Bernard, her gaze fixed on the darkly handsome Winn. She’d been watching him all night and was determined to have him in her bed by dawn.
“Lucy, control yourself, for heaven’s sake. You’re a married woman!” Amelia said.
“Frederick doesn’t care what I do as long as I’m discreet.” She dismissed her friend’s admonishment without a further thought.
Amelia knew there was no reasoning with Lucy when she set her mind on having something or someone. She was as headstrong as she was beautiful and spoiled, her blonde good looks having gotten her whatever she wanted in life.
Amelia had to admit Lucy did have good taste in men, though. Tall, lean, and muscular with black hair, a mustache, and arresting green eyes, Winn Bradford was the best-looking man there—next to her own husband, John, of course. Amelia quickly amended her wayward thoughts. Were she not madly in love with John, she might have tried for Winn herself. He was, after all, rich, titled and available.
“Damn you, Bradford!” Justin Davies swore as he stared at the cards Winn had just spread out before him. He slammed his own hand down in defeat, not even bothering to show them. “You have all the luck!”
“Luck or skill, Justin, old boy?” Charles Fulham chided with good humor, conceding his own defeat by tossing down his own cards.
“I knew Winn wouldn’t lose!” Lucy whispered excitedly to Amelia. She slipped from the room unnoticed as the others moved in closer to congratulate Winn.
“Well done, Bradford.” The onlookers murmured their approval.
Several of the men clapped him on the back, impressed by his daring. They’d been wise enough to stay out of the game for they knew they were no match for him. He played with abandon, knowing he could afford to lose and not caring if he did. When a man entered a card game with that attitude he was a dangerous opponent.
Winn smiled slightly in acknowledgment of their praise as he raked in his winnings. It had been a lucrative night for him, yet he felt no thrill of victory, no sense of accomplishment. All he felt was tired. He’d won the card game, just as he’d won on any number of other occasions.
“Shall we go outside for a while? Get a breath of fresh air?” Charles, his host, suggested as the others wandered off to pursue new and varied entertainments.
“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll call it a night.”
“Not at all, Winn. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Winn excused himself and left the gaming room. He made his way up the curved staircase to the bedroom that was his for the week’s stay. Charles was known for his opulent parties here at Merryfield, and this one was proving to be no exception. The estate was a fifty-four room ‘country house’ with ornate furnishings, plush carpets, and an army of servants to cater to the guests’ every want.
In the past, Winn had always enjoyed the time he spent here, but somehow, now, it was all beginning to seem rather pointless. He had more money than he could spend in a lifetime, yet he constantly gambled for high stakes, and generally won. There were many who envied him his luck at cards, but sometimes he wondered if winning was a blessing or a curse. If you could have anything and everything you wanted, what was there left to desire? The women at these affairs were not known for their virtue. Many, married or not, were eager to share his bed. For a while, he’d found the hot couplings arousing, but lately they seemed more sordid than erotic.
As Winn reached the top of the stairs, he saw Barry Richmond knock softly once on Alicia Somerset’s bedroom door at the far end of the hall and then slip quickly inside. Winn could only assume that Alicia’s husband, George, was safely occupied elsewhere for her to be so brazen in her dalliance.
Winn entered his own bedroom and found that the servants had already been there and had anticipated his needs. A lamp was glowing softly on the nightstand, and on the dresser a bottle of whiskey and a crystal tumbler had been set out for him. The bed looked to have been turned down and the canopy curtains around it had been partially drawn. He went to the dresser and poured himself a half-tumbler of whiskey. After taking a deep drink, he unbuttoned his shirt.
Winn was tired, exhausted in fact, and he looked forward to getting some sleep. Setting the glass aside, he moved toward the bed. It was then, just as he started to strip off his shirt, that he saw Lucy. She was lying in a seductive pose, a sheet pulled up just far enough to cover her breasts.
“Good evening, Winn,” she said in a husky voice. Her gaze went over him, and she gloried in the sight of his naked chest. Raw hunger shone in her eyes. She considered herself a connoisseur of men, and Winn was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen. She longed to touch him, to strip the rest of his clothes from him, to caress his hard-muscled flesh and run her fingers through the crisp mat of black hair that covered his chest.
“It’s been a long night, Lucy. It’s late and I’m tired,” he said as he pulled his shirt back on and began to button it. “I plan to have one last drink and then go to bed.”
“That’s just what I was hoping you’d want to do,” she purred, a slow, inviting smile curving her lips.
“I want to go to bed alone, Lucy.”
Not about to be denied, she rose up on her knees, letting the sheet drop away, displaying for him all of her womanly secrets. “You don’t really mean that . . .” She leaned forward and reached out to stop him from rebuttoning his shirt. She wanted his chest bare; she wanted to be able to look at him.
The sight of her naked, ample curves left Winn curiously unmoved, and he took an evasive step backward. “Oh, but I do. Besides, now that the card game’s over, won’t your husband be looking for you?”
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