A whispered discussion broke out among the onlookers, but Fletch wasn’t interested. He’d just discovered the engravings on the inside of the brass weight.
“More puzzles to copy,” Oliver announced, studying the second piece of crumbling paper.
Puzzle was scarcely the word for it. “Better copy this too.” Fletch pushed the inscription over to the boys. He supposed, as the family’s only males, they would eventually inherit the position of trust executors that Hunt held now. Fletch recognized the Latinate words in the inscription but didn’t see reason to rack his brain translating.
He sat back and waited for them to finish exclaiming so he might put the clock together again.
At the rise of excited babble, Hunt finally entered to stand behind his wife and lean over to hear her whispers. He raised his eyebrows and glanced at Fletch. That generally did not bode well. Fletch hoped he wouldn’t be deprived of repairing the clock.
Hunt picked up one of the stones to examine it and consult with Jack. Fletch held his breath while they whispered. Maybe he could buy the clock if the manor did not want it. . .
Dragging out Fletch’s agony, Hunt turned to converse with others. Jack polished the stupid stone with his handkerchief until it sparkled in the lamplight.
While little Oliver copied the inscription, Fletch wondered if he dared demand permission to restore the clock.
Jack handed the now-shiny stone to Hunt, who leaned over and placed it in front of Fletch. “This might not be sufficient reward for the discovery your efforts have provided. Once we have some notion of the value of your find, we may consider your payment more fully. Our immense gratitude for solving part of a truly worrisome puzzle and ensuring the manor and village’s future.”
Fletch stared at the stone in consternation. Did that mean they were paying him off and they didn’t want the clock fixed? He poked the stone on the table, unable to fathom its purpose. “What do I do with it?”
Thea laughed. “You put it in a ring for your intended. You sell it. You put the proceeds in a bank account for your old age. It’s money!”
Money? Might he now afford the damned clock so he could finish restoring it?
Beside him, sensible Kate paused his confusion by abruptly crying out in excitement and leaping from her seat. Distracted, Fletch shoved the stone in his pocket and swung to see what had disturbed her.
A tall, golden-haired boy—disconcertingly resembling a young Damien, who stood beside him—endured Kate’s excited hugs and kisses with pleased embarrassment.
Arthur, Kate’s eldest, home for an Easter break.
If Fletch meant to court Kate, he would have to accept the resemblance. He knew Damien wasn’t the boy’s father, but people must talk. Kate had hidden away in the country for a reason. As usual, he hadn’t given her predicament a single thought. He had a lot of learning to do.
Abandoning the clock, the treasure map, and jewels, Fletch rose to greet the boy. At fourteen, Arthur was taller than Kate, almost a grown man. Faced with a future he hadn’t considered in his fascination with Kate, Fletch had to adjust his thinking to realize that she was a mother, first, last, and foremost.
That might mean he took second place in her thoughts, but he could live with that, if he could live with Kate.
He didn’t need introductions to the boy. They’d worked together in the past. But if he wanted to be seen as a contender for Kate’s hand. . .
Which he did, very much, Fletch realized. He was a man of instinct, not deep thought. Whatever part of his upper story still functioned told him Kate was the only woman for him. Lady tigress, both fierce and quiet—he wanted to hear her laugh more often.
Which meant he had to start paying attention and conquer his addled tongue. In greeting, Fletch pounded the boy on the shoulder as if he were Hunt or Rafe. “Glad you made it home in time for the treasure hunt. Lyn and Rob will be delighted to see you.”
Fletch turned to Kate. “I imagine Rob is chomping at the bit to see what’s happening with his friends and will love to know his brother has arrived. Shall I fetch him?”
Kate gave him a look so full of delight, he forgot about the clock entirely. It had been a very long time since he’d known that thrill.
“Treasure hunt?” Arthur lit up just as the young boys had. The call of the pirate was strong.
Fletch left Kate and Arthur to the library’s excitement. The only treasure he had on his mind was Kate and a normal future. Although in Gravesyde, normal was a matter of relativity.
Damien and Brydie stood in the hall behind Arthur, the obvious reason for Arthur’s return. Fletch knew he had to impress all of Kate’s protective family. Not easy, given his past behavior. “If I’m to fetch Rob and Lyn while waiting to reclaim my clockworks, will Verity let them loose if I’m the one asking?”
“I’ll go with you. Brydie can get in her hugs and tell me about treasure later.” Damien slapped him on the back much as Fletch had done Arthur.
Maybe they ought to take up Hunt’s American hand shaking for greetings.
Fletch swallowed. He not only needed Arthur’s approval, but Damien’s. The lawyer was far more experienced and tough. . .
In school, Fletch had never wasted time worrying about tests.
