How To Vex A Viscount (34 page)

“There,” he said, stepping back to let Daisy survey his handiwork.

Behind the hacked greenery, a black space yawned, a toothless maw in the rock face. Lucian stepped forward.

“Are you coming?” he asked, when she didn’t immediately follow. “If you’d rather not, you can wait for me here.”

“And miss the adventure?” she said, more lightly than she felt. “Surely you jest.”

She turned sideways to slide through the narrow opening and followed him into the mouth of a hidden cave.

“Did you see that?” Lord Brumley said from his place of concealment behind the broad trunk of an old beech. His hand tremored against the smooth grey bark. “They just . . . disappeared.”

“Brumley, you idiot,” Sir Alistair said. “They’ve found an opening in the rock behind the vines. A cave of some sort. We could have searched the island for months without stumbling across it.”

“Stay here for months? I should say not,” Brumley mumbled. “Not without even packing so much as a food hamper.”

“What I mean is, they obviously have information to which we are not privy,” Sir Alistair continued. “We were wise to arrive soon enough to observe them undetected.”

Lord Montford grunted noncommittally. The three had spent a miserable night on the island. The strange mist that surrounded Braellafgwen not only spawned fairy stories, it was an ideal breeding ground for mosquitoes. When the sun sank beneath the horizon, the woods came alive with their whining hum, and the voracious little demons feasted on the blue blood of two English lords and a knight of the realm without discrimination.

“I could have sworn that Drake girl saw us,” Brumley said. “She looked this way. Several times.”

Alistair raised a brow at Brumley. If the man could only see himself—wig gone, hair askew and filthy, cuts and welts from the predation of insects all over his grimy face, his ensemble ripped and muddied. If Daisy Drake had seen him, she’d have thought him a wild man in the woods. As it was, his miserable turnout probably concealed him better than a hunting blind.

“Now we follow them. Right?” Brumley asked.

“No,” Lord Montford said before Alistair could. “Now we wait to see if they find something. One does not follow a bear into its den.”

Alistair looked sharply at Lord Montford. They weren’t stalking a wild beast. They were tracking the man’s own son and a slip of a girl who would be no trouble at all. He narrowed his eyes at the earl in uneasy speculation. Of his two confederates, now he wasn’t sure which of them troubled him more.

Lord Montford pulled back the firing pin and checked his pistol. Apparently satisfied, he shoved it back into the waist of his breeches. “At least, not until one is sure the bear is thoroughly distracted by something else.”

“A hint of danger, the threat of harm, makes a body so quiveringly alive it’s a wonder more folk don’t meet their fate courting death.”

—the journal of Blanche La Tour

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Sunlight fought to enter the opening Lucian cut through the vines, but once they stepped into the cave, darkness pressed around them. He found a row of old torches jammed in a fissure in the wall and pulled out his tinderbox to set one ablaze.

“There we are,” he said as he lifted the smoky torch. “Seems someone used this cave at one time and expected to return. Kind of them to leave us a light.”

“Caius?”

“Or, before him, the druids.”

The reek of pitch stung Daisy’s nostrils, but she and Lucian were bathed in a wavering circle of light that shot through the dark, throwing macabre shadows against the uneven walls and rock-strewn floor. The cave receded past the reach of the torchlight in a long, narrow tunnel, just wide enough for them to walk abreast as it angled down. The air that feathered her cheek felt dry and cool and smelled musty enough to suggest that no one had disturbed this chamber for a very long time.

Daisy slipped her hand into Lucian’s. She was brave enough to want an adventure, but sensible enough to have a healthy fear of the unknown.

“Don’t worry,” he said as he helped her over a small outcropping of rock. “I’ve a feeling the worst we might encounter here is a bat or two.”

“That gives me small comfort,” she said dryly, wishing she’d thought to wrap a fichu about her neck. She’d never much cared for rodents in the first place. Adding wings did not improve them in her estimation. She strode forward, keeping pace with Lucian, trailing her fingers along the rock wall at her side to keep her bearings. Then she brushed against something that was decidedly not mineral.

“Jupiter!” Daisy grasped Lucian’s hand with both of hers.

Lying in a carved niche in the wall of the tunnel was a body. Or rather, what was left of one. The flesh was long gone and the cloth shroud had rotted into tatters, exposing chalk-coloured bone. A small oval of gold glinted on the sunken ribs. Delicate. Dainty. A woman’s necklace.

“That is not a bat,” Daisy said.

“No, it seems to be a lady who’s been dead for a very, very long time.”

“Do you suppose . . . Could this be . . . Deirdre?” Daisy asked.

“
‘There shall my love be pleased,’
” Lucian quoted. “If we’re right about this place, she might be Deirdre. Perhaps Caius thought she’d rest easy here.”

“All his treasure in one place,” Daisy said thoughtfully. Traveling up the Thames with the body of his lover would be a sad, lonely journey indeed, even if Caius bore the wealth of Rome as well.

Carefully, they stepped past the skeleton, leaving her undisturbed. They pressed forward, feeling their way, climbing over and around the rocks that obstructed their path. Their voices echoed in retreating sibilance. The scuff of a boot on stone was amplified several times over. Occasionally Daisy imagined some of the echoes were a bit long in coming and wondered if they were being followed, but when she turned to look back up the tunnel, she saw no silhouette against the distant opening of light. After a few moments, they reached a place where they could go no farther.

A gaping abyss yawned at their feet. It was a little more than ten feet across. The lip on the other side was narrow, no more than a foot or so, before rising in a solid wall marred by one long, sloping crack. Even with a running jump, a body couldn’t be sure of being able to leap across. Lucian raised the torch higher. The ledge that ran along the left wall provided a precarious way to cross over, but it was even narrower.

“It looks like we’ve reached the end,” she whispered.

“No,” Lucian said, waving the torch before him as if he could will the light to reach farther. “We haven’t found the treasure yet, and it has to be here. I know it looks like the cave ends, but remember the hidden staircase. Would you have ever guessed there was a way up that steep slope that didn’t involve a rough scramble and a stout rope? This island takes pains to keep its secrets. There must be a way through that wall as well. It’s just not evident from this vantage point.”

“I don’t know,” Daisy said. “There doesn’t seem to be a way across. I mean, if Caius Meritus were hauling in the treasure, he certainly couldn’t have crept around on that narrow ledge with a load in his arms.”

“Perhaps the chasm wasn’t here back then. Or if it was, he might have built a little bridge of sorts. It wouldn’t have taken much, and there’s plenty of wood here on Braellafgwen. Then when he was done, he could have pushed it off down there.” He squatted to peer into the void. The light of the torch didn’t reveal the bottom. Lucian picked up a small rock and dropped it over the edge.

Daisy counted silently to ten and still didn’t hear the rock hit.

“I have to cross it,” Lucian said.

“No, don’t,” she pleaded. “It’s not worth it, Lucian. Honestly, it’s not. If you were to slip—”

“Miss Drake,” a voice came from the darkness, “I wouldn’t try so hard to dissuade him if I were you.”

Daisy nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned to see two faces rise from behind a large boulder.

“Sir Alistair Fitzhugh and Lord Brumley, fancy meeting you here.” She lowered her voice and hissed to Lucian, “So much for only encountering bats.”

“Well, gentlemen,” Lucian said. “As you can see, we have reached an impasse. The trail has gone cold, and Miss Drake and I are leaving.”

“I think not.” Sir Alistair raised a pistol and brandished it toward them as Brumley fumbled with his tinderbox to light a second torch. “As you rightly pointed out, this island has ways of keeping its secrets. I believe you are correct, Rutland. There may indeed be a false wall on the other side of yon abyss, and you, Miss Drake, are going to investigate that notion for us.”

“Me?”

“Yes, indeed,” he said. “You’re the smallest here. You’ll fit most easily along that ledge.”

“Leave her out of this, Fitzhugh.” A muscle ticked along Lucian’s jaw. “I’ll go.”

“Oh, you’ll get your chance,” Sir Alistair said. “If something unfortunate happens to Miss Drake, you’ll try next. Now go, girl, before I decide it’s necessary to put a shot through the viscount’s knee in order to properly motivate you.”

“No, don’t. I’m going,” Daisy said as she started toward the ledge.

“Oh, no, you’re not.” Lucian grabbed her forearm to stop her.

“You, milord, are neither my husband nor my keeper. You have no right to tell me what to do.”

“Spare us your lovers’ spat and get going,” Sir Alistair said. “I grow weary of holding back my trigger finger.”

Daisy pulled free of Lucian and kept moving.

“He’s bluffing,” Lucian whispered as he followed close behind.

“Stand still, Rutland,” Sir Alistair ordered.

“Don’t be an ass. I’m going to light her way with the torch. You don’t expect her to do it blind, do you?” Lucian said over his shoulder, not slowing his pace. His voice dropped again. “Besides, he’s only got one shot. I’ll draw his fire. When he shoots, I want you to run toward the light.”

Daisy looked up the long, dark incline. A hint of daylight beckoned in the distance. Then she looked back at Lucian.

“Brumley may have a pistol as well. Besides, if you think I’ll abandon you, you don’t know me at all,” she hissed, then raised her voice. “Hold the torch higher so I can see what I’m about, then.”

Facing the wall would be easiest. She could see to clutch at handholds on the rocky face. Even more important, she wouldn’t be able to look into the hypnotic pull of the darkness yawning behind her.

“Just a moment,” she said. “I have to remove my hoops.”

She reached under her voluminous skirt and untied the wire-and-wicker contraption that expanded the width of her hips by a foot on each side. Then she reached between her knees, grasped the back of her skirt and hauled it between her legs, tucking the long end into her bodice. The effect was something between a harem girl’s scandalous silk pants and a baby’s nappies. She was back to being, as Lucian once named her, a tomboy, but at least her legs were free and she wouldn’t be hampered by the underpinnings of her garments. She’d be able to hug the rock face as if it were her dearest love.

Her dearest love.

She looked up at Lucian. His face was drawn with concern. If Sir Alistair hadn’t been sporting a firearm, Lucian would have fought. Even though he’d faced down those ruffians with knives, a pistol had a much longer reach than his sword.

She flashed him a quick grin, determined to put a bold face on things. “If ever I express the need to have an adventure again, you have my permission to paddle me.”

He snorted. “I’ll hold you to that.”

She edged her way onto the narrow space, clinging to a jutting rock with one hand and a stout root with the other. “But you have to swear not to enjoy it.”

“I make no promises.” He lifted the torch higher. “There’s a fissure about a foot from your right hand. You should be able to shove your fingers into it and use it to steady yourself.”

“I see it,” she said through clenched teeth. She shuffled her feet sideways on the narrow lip of rock, trying not to think about the sheer drop inches behind her. “And what about you? When may I paddle you with impunity?”

“If ever I forget our anniversary, you may paddle my arse till it bleeds,” he said.

Her foot slipped and she felt nothing but empty space beneath her sole for a moment. Then her toes found the ledge once again. She stood still, glancing right and then back to her left. Lucian drew a relieved breath and cast her a lopsided grin.

“If that was a proposal of marriage, it was singularly lacking in elegance,” she said, moving along the ledge once again. She knew he didn’t mean anything by it, but their ridiculous talk of paddling and matrimony kept her fear at bay.

“Lacking in elegance, was it? I find that observation difficult to take seriously from a woman whose skirt is tucked between her legs,” he said. “But if elegance comes at the expense of covering those ankles of yours, it is a highly overrated commodity. There, you made it.”

Daisy heaved a sigh. She was across the chasm.

“Now, if you’re finished treating us all to your unmaidenly banter,” Sir Alistair said, “see what you can discover about that rock face.”