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Bobbi Smith (9 page)

BOOK: Bobbi Smith
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Winn saw Arthur admitting more visitors, and declined. “This is not a good time.”
“It’s a serious business matter that has to do with our father and your uncle,” Philip put in.
Winn sensed an urgency in the men, but something in their manner annoyed him.
“We have a lot in common, you know,” Philip added a little slyly, hoping to encourage a mutual regard. After all, he had heard of Lord Bradford’s reputation with the ladies and at the card tables.
However, his remark had the opposite effect on Winn, for it brought him up short. Winn suddenly found himself wondering if he really was like these two—unprincipled, cold, and ruthless. He hoped not. He certainly would not be so crass as to intrude and try to discuss business with the relative of a recently deceased man. Still, the fact that they thought of him that way left a bitter taste in his mouth. He frowned. “This is hardly the time to discuss such things, gentlemen.”
“We wouldn’t disturb you now, if it weren’t important.” Philip would not be put off. He was already irritated that they’d wasted half a day tracking down the priest only to discover that he’d died. Philip had hoped Winn would be amenable to their needs and check his uncle’s things right away so they could get the books and go. After all, how difficult could it be to find a few books written by their father among the priest’s possessions? Didn’t priests take a vow of poverty? Surely, Father Bradford didn’t have so many personal belongings that it would take Lord Bradford a long time to find them.
“Perhaps we could meet later in the week?” Winn was still trying to maintain a courteous demeanor, but their persistence wasn’t making it easy.
“This shouldn’t take long,” Robert added. “If we could just step into your study for a moment?”
Winn’s jaw tightened as he fought to control his temper. “This is not a time to speak of business,
gentlemen.
If you’ll excuse me?”
He started to walk away to greet other, newly arriving guests, but Philip stepped before him, blocking his way. He pressed him once more.
“Lord Bradford, we’ve been led to believe that your uncle had some of our father’s books in his possession. If you could possibly return them to us, we’d be greatly appreciative.”
Winn stiffened at their ill-mannered crudeness. His gaze was condemning as he regarded them. “When the time is appropriate, I will consider your request. This is not the time. Good day, gentlemen.” His dismissal was curt and undeniable.
The two brothers left, frustrated from pursuing their prize. They had only one more day before they were to be evicted from their home. Since their funds were limited now, time was of the essence. Their survival depended on finding those books.
 
 
The following morning, the funeral mass was held. It was a glorious celebration. The church was filled to overflowing with people who’d loved his uncle, and Winn felt better knowing that he’d touched so many lives, so deeply.
During the service, Winn had happened to catch sight of the Anthony brothers in attendance. Their presence irritated, and he hoped to avoid them after the ceremony. When the mass had ended and he went outside to enter his carriage, he saw the pair again, climbing into their own vehicle to join in the procession.
The funeral cortege had over thirty mourning-coaches in it, and with the hearse in the lead, it wound its way through the city streets to the cemetery where the priest was to be interred.
Winn’s mood was somber as he said his final good-bye to his uncle. He felt desolate and very alone as memories of his uncle’s love and support threatened the tenuous hold he had on his composure. He’d been young and innocent in the ways of the world when his parents died, but Uncle Edward had been there to guide him through those difficult, formative years to manhood. Winn would never forget him—or his advice.
The graveside ceremony was short, and Winn was relieved. It would be good to be done with this last painful ritual of separation. The others who’d traveled to the cemetery came up to him and offered their final condolences before moving off. He remained there alone, standing quietly over the grave.
“Lord Bradford . . .” Philip and Robert had waited until all the others had gone before they’d approached him. They were determined to get their answer.
Winn recognized the voice immediately and looked up at the two of them.
“Since it seems your business here is finished, we were wondering if we could have that talk with you now?”
“Business?” Winn turned on them, his eyes hardening at their intrusion on his grief. He’d had little respect for them after their visit to the house the day before, and now he was jarred by their cold-blooded indifference to his situation. “I’m afraid this is more than just business to me, gentlemen. I loved my uncle, and I am in mourning for him.”
“But as we’ve told you before, this is very important, and it won’t take much of your time,” Philip persisted.
“My uncle was very important to me,” he ground out, thinking the two men were little better than vultures. “If I happen to run across the items you’re looking for, I’ll let you know. I suggest you wait until you hear from me. Good day, gentlemen.”
With all the dignity of a man of his rank and privilege, he turned his back and walked away to climb into his waiting carriage.
Philip and Robert stared after him, cursing beneath their breath. This damned arrogant nobleman was going to ruin everything. They had only one day left—one day to find the books that would secure their future.
“We’re supposed to wait until we hear from him?” Robert sputtered angrily.
“We’ll give him twenty-four hours, and then we’ll take action.”
“What kind of action?”
“You’ll see,” he promised.
 
 
Winn sat at his desk, holding the letter and book that Arthur had just given him. Apparently, they’d been delivered while his uncle lay dying, and Arthur had just remembered them now that the confusion of the funeral was past. Curious to see what it was the brothers were so eager to get their hands on, Winn opened the letter first and began to read.
My dearest Edward,
It is with great sorrow and heaviness of heart that I am writing this letter to you. I have decided on this day to disinherit Philip and Robert. I had long hoped that I could change them—make them contented with what they had and appreciate life for what it really is, and not for the money that they think so important. Unfortunately, I have failed. They are greedy, shallow men, who, I’m certain, will come to no good. It shames me that they bear my name.
You will only receive this letter after my death. I have instructed Henry to deliver it, and this book, upon my passing. Let me say that your friendship has been a balm to my soul, and your faith has been a light for me in the darkness of my life.
There is one treasure in my collection that has meant more to me than all the others. It is the Crown of Desire, an ancient Egyptian relic that was supposedly cursed by the last princess to possess it. Those who claim it in greed are also said to be cursed. Only those whose love is pure can possess it without danger. That is why I have chosen you, my dear Edward, to lead the search to find the crown, which I’ve hidden away. Many would steal it, if its location were known. I hid it several years ago with the intention of making true men of my sons in the hunt for it. They are, however, far beyond any hope of redemption, and so I have left the books with the clues in them to the three people I know who would own the crown for the right reasons. All of you must work together to find the prize. The books are numbered and clues in each must be followed in order.
It is essential that you lead the hunt. Your faith has marked you as a man to be trusted. Without you, the others will not be able to achieve their goals. There are three books. One has been sent to you; one to my friend Professor Enoch Parker in Boston; another to Matthew McKittrick, also of Boston. I have enclosed their addresses below.
Go to Enoch first. He is a scholar of the first order who works with an assistant named Alex. I’m sure they will be thrilled to hear from you. They have been hunting for the crown for many years, as has Matt McKittrick. He, too, will be glad to work with you. They will know about you, but I have not told them about each other.
Know that I have chosen you for your faith, your eternal optimism, and your unshakable, undying love. You are a leader, Edward, and I’m sure the others will follow you without question. I trust you, my friend, with my greatest treasure. Find the crown and use it for good works. It is a beautiful relic that deserves a prominent place in the annals of history.
Please beware of my sons. Since I have disowned them, it would not be safe for you to trust them. I have often felt that the crown’s curse was played upon me through them, for they have brought me nothing but heartache and misery all these years.
Thank you for your friendship and love, Edward. I hope the Crown of Desire brings you the peace and joy I’ve never experienced.
With warmest affection, your friend,
Lawrence
Winn stared at the letter for a long moment, studying the names and addresses enclosed, then picked up the book. He opened it and read the baffling inscription within.
Rising from his desk, he paced the study as he tried to decide what to do. He remembered what Philip Anthony had said to him—
We have a lot in common
. . . He shuddered at the thought that he was like the Anthony brothers.
Suddenly, Winn knew what he must do. Lawrence Anthony had been counting on his uncle’s help. Now, Winn could do no less than fulfill his request. He would prove to himself that he was not like the brothers. He would assume his uncle’s role and lead the quest to find the crown.
Winn went upstairs into his uncle’s room and sorted through his personal belongings until he found what he needed. That done, he rang for Arthur and began to pack. He would leave right away.
Five
Alex sat on the sofa in the parlor of her Boston home, staring down at the letter she’d just received. Her hands were trembling and her expression was strained.
“What’s wrong, Alexandra?” Felicia Parker asked, seeing the change in her niece. A moment before, they’d been having a lively, animated discussion, and now, after reading a letter she’d just received, she’d become very quiet, almost tense. “Is it bad news from your father?”
Alex glanced quickly at her aunt. Seeing how frail the elderly woman still looked after her lengthy illness, she hurried to set her fears to rest. “No, Aunt Felicia, it’s nothing like that.”
“Thank heaven. What is it then?”
“Do you remember Papa and I mentioning a gentleman named Lawrence Anthony?” At her aunt’s nod of recognition, she continued. “It seems he’s died.”
“I’m sorry. You cared for him, didn’t you?” She could see the shadow of pain in her niece’s dark eyes.
“Very much. So did Papa.” It was difficult for Alex to think that Lawrence was dead, for he’d always seemed so vital and full of life. “If you’ll excuse me, Aunt Felicia, I think I’ll go up to my room for a while.”
“Of course, dear. Unpleasant news is always such a shock.”
Alex made her escape. When she reached her room, she locked the door behind her. It hadn’t been the news of Lawrence’s death that had sent her in search of privacy. It had been what was contained in the rest of his letter. Sitting on the edge of her bed, Alex reread the letter. She wanted to make sure she hadn’t misunderstood.
Excitement and resentment warred within her as she finished reading.
The crown!
Lawrence had had it all these years, and he’d never told them! While they’d been digging in the ruins at Thebes, hoping to find some trace, some clue to its location, the crown had already been in Lawrence’s collection.
Though Alex’s anger flared, it was quickly tempered. While it was frustrating to know that their years of searching had been in vain, what really mattered was that Lawrence had left a clue to the crown’s location. She realized it was perfectly in character for him to have hidden the crown, for he’d always considered solving the riddles of the ancients the greatest of accomplishments. Alex was certain he’d laid out quite a challenge for them, and she could hardly wait to begin the hunt.
She wondered how soon the priest, this Father Bradford, would arrive. Tomorrow wouldn’t be soon enough as far as she was concerned. The only trouble was, her father hadn’t yet returned from his research trip to London. She knew she would have to wait until he got back, but as soon as he did, in another two weeks or so, they could be ready to leave.
Alex thought of the priest Lawrence had described in his letter. Father Bradford sounded like a wonderful man, a true man of God. Lawrence had written that they’d been friends for many years, so she was sure he was someone who could be trusted to lead the search.
Glancing down at the letter again, Alex scanned the part about Philip and Robert once more. She’d met Lawrence’s sons only one time in London, and her impression of them hadn’t been good. There was something disreputable about the pair, though she’d been hard put to say just what it was. Obviously, her instincts had been right since Lawrence had disinherited them. She hoped she would never have to worry about the collector’s warning not to trust either of them. If she never saw Philip or Robert again, she’d be happy.
Rising from her bed, Alex locked the letter safely away in her desk. As frustrating as it was, there was nothing more for her to do but wait. She had no doubt that every minute was going to seem like an eternity as she awaited the priest’s arrival and her father’s return.
 
 
“Thank you, Mr. McKittrick. I knew you’d be able to help me.” The elderly, elegant Mrs. Carver smiled brightly at the handsome, young bookseller. She’d been desperate for a copy of a rare book, and, as usual, Mr. McKittrick had found it for her.
“It was my pleasure,” Matt assured her as he handed her the book. He enjoyed helping his customers find what they wanted. But while he liked owning the bookstore, it was not his first love. The bookstore just provided him with the base he needed to do what he really loved—finding real lost treasures.
“I’ll see you next week, that is, if you’re going to be here,” she remarked with a smile. Matthew McKittrick was a charming, intelligent man, and she looked forward to her visits to his shop. “You are going to be in town, aren’t you?”
“I should be,” he assured her, knowing of nothing at that particular moment that might call him away. Things had been very quiet lately. Of course, all that could change with one urgent message. He never knew from day-to-day what might come up, and that was the part of treasure-hunting that he really loved.
“Good. I miss you when you leave unexpectedly.” She had been patronizing his store regularly since he’d opened it seven years ago, and she knew it wasn’t unusual for him to disappear for several weeks at a time without explanation. Whenever she asked him about his trips, he told her he was searching for more books for the store.
“Enjoy your book.” Matt was still smiling as he watched her go.
Peace and quiet surrounded Matt, and he was almost glad for the reprieve. Business had been steady all day. He glanced at the clock on the wall and was surprised to find it was almost closing time. Matt was never in a hurry to close the store, though, so he settled in behind the counter to catch up on his paperwork. He was engrossed in reading the day’s mail when he heard the door open. Wanting to finish the letter before he looked up, Matt continued to read.
Valerie Stewart Chancellor paused just inside the doorway. A physical ache grew within her as she stared at the man who held her heart. She’d never stopped loving him. It had been weeks since she’d last seen him, and Valerie couldn’t believe that she’d stayed away that long. Matt looked more handsome than ever. Her hungry gaze caressed the hard line of his jaw and the broad width of his shoulders. His dark blond hair was sun-streaked now and cut to just above his collar. She remembered well the texture of that hair and how she loved to run her hands through it.
Valerie jerked her thoughts away from memories of the passion-filled nights they’d spent together. Matt haunted her dreams by night and her every waking thought by day. She loved him, and for what seemed like the thousandth time she cursed her own weakness in giving in to her parents’ desires.
Valerie’s parents had disapproved of Matt and his mysterious, almost nomadic lifestyle, and they’d pressured her to marry someone suitable, someone acceptable, someone who would fit in with their social circle. Loving money and the comforts wealth could bring, she’d given in to their wishes. Today, though, as she stared at Matt, she knew she’d been wrong, terribly wrong. She hoped it wasn’t too late. “Hello, Matt.”
At the sound of that voice, so well remembered, Matt felt pain mixed with a desperate hope. He looked up sharply and his breath caught as he saw her standing before him. Valerie was as beautiful as ever, and try as he might to deny them, searing old memories besieged him—memories of her smiles and laughter, memories of her lips upon his, memories of her lying naked beneath him, her slender soft body melded to his as she matched him in both passion and desire, memories of her vows of love and devotion only to him, and finally memories of her marriage to another man, a man her parents had chosen. Matt had thought Valerie was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. He’d thought he loved her. She stood before him now . . . another man’s wife.
“Valerie . . .” Matt spoke her name as he came to his feet, and he was surprised by the casualness of his voice. He’d feared that his tone would betray him.
“I had to see you, Matt.” She stepped further inside and closed the door behind her. It was a move designed to create a feeling of intimacy between them. It was a move she hoped he’d welcome.
“I don’t understand why. I think we’ve already said all that needed to be spoken.” He tensed as he watched her move toward him.
“I couldn’t let things end this way. I had to tell you what you mean to me. I was so foolish to listen to my parents. I love you. You’re the only man I want, Matt.”
“Valerie, you’re only going to make things worse.” At that moment Matt was glad the counter was a barrier between them; he wanted her so badly that he wouldn’t have trusted himself not to sweep her in his arms and make love to her right there in the store.
“How can things get any worse, Matt? You’re the man I love . . .” she told him, tears shining in her eyes.
“You should have thought about that before.” He tried to sound hard and indifferent, but it wasn’t easy. Just seeing her again set his body on fire. He longed to strip away her clothes right now and bury himself deep within the heat of her body. He wanted to hear her cry out her love for him as he made her his own. But the knowledge of her marriage to another man held him immobile. Never again would he touch her or kiss her. Matt fought the most difficult battle of his life as he denied his desire and forced himself to remain where he was.
“But Matt . . . please, listen to me. You don’t understand. . .”
“I understand, Valerie.”
“Do you understand that I love you, and only you?”
“You love me as long as it’s on your terms,” he replied. “You love me as long as there’s no sacrifice involved.”
“Matt . . .”
“No, Valerie, it’s too late. You’re another man’s wife now.” He hardened his heart to her even more.
“I made a terrible mistake when I accepted John’s proposal. Don’t turn away from me now. Not now. Not when I need you so badly.”
“What are you offering me? A sordid night in a room on some back street? Sneaky liaisons when your husband and parents aren’t looking? When you left me, you left me with only my honor, and that’s the one thing I’m not going to lose. Not even for you. Valerie.”
“What we had was special. Don’t you understand that I’ve regretted marrying John every minute since?”
“You got what you wanted, Valerie—a husband who pleases your father. John has money and a brilliant future. He’ll always be in town. Whenever your father speaks, he’ll jump to attention and obey his every command. I wish the two of you all the best. I’m sorry you’re not happy. You’ll have a lot of years to think about what might have been.”
“Matt, please!” she begged, desperate to make him understand. “Without you, my life is empty. I love you, Matt. We can still be together! Don’t be so stubborn!”
“It’s too late, Valerie.”
“It can’t be! Listen to me . . .”
“No, you listen to me.” He spoke with finality. “You pledged yourself before God to another man. John’s a good man. He deserves more from you. I won’t cheat both of us just to satisfy your desires. I wish I didn’t love you, but I won’t damn myself to the hell of being your illicit lover.”
She went pale at his harsh words.
“John’s the perfect husband for you. He’ll always be at your side. He’s successful and rich . . .”
“You know he doesn’t mean anything to me!”
“He may not mean anything to you, but he pleases your parents, and that, my dear, matters to you.” Matt remembered how her father had come to him at the store and tried to force him to give up his dreams and come to work for him. Matt had refused. He needed to live his life his own way. He needed to be his own man. He couldn’t give it all up—not even for Valerie.
“I should have defied my father! It doesn’t matter to me that you’ll never make a lot of money. It doesn’t matter to me that you take those long trips looking for treasures that may or may not exist. I shouldn’t have listened to my family! I should have . . .”
“It’s over, and it has to stay that way.” He cut her off. “You’re a married woman now.”
“That doesn’t stop me from thinking about you, and wanting you, and remembering . . . What we shared was so wonderful . . .” She brazenly approached him, coming around the counter and touching his arm.
“Valerie, you’d better leave.” Matt’s hands clenched into fists at his sides as he ordered her from his life.
“I know, but Matt, kiss me just one last time . . . please . . .” She tried to loop her arms about his neck and pull him down to her. Her lips were but a breath apart from his. He was tempted, so very tempted, but his honor held fast.
“No,” he said, taking her by her upper arm and pushing her away from him, breaking the intimate contact. He steered her to the door. “Good bye, Valerie.”
. She looked up at him, her desire for him shining in her eyes. “You really mean it . . . You don’t want me?” “Go home to your husband.” He opened the door and all but pushed her out.
“I’ll always love you, Matt.”
The words were in his heart, but he couldn’t say them. He wouldn’t say them. Though he had nothing else, he still had his honor. She was another man’s wife. “Good bye, Valerie.”
Matt closed the door, drew the shade, and slid home the bolt, locking her forever out of his life. He remained standing there, staring at the door, long after she’d gone. Bitterness filled him. He had loved her. He had given his heart to her. He would never be so foolish again.
BOOK: Bobbi Smith
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