“Artistic?” Jack grinned. “Yes, she is. And I like her too. Which is why I want her to marry me so I can spend as much time as I want with her.”
Grayson shrugged. “I guess it will be okay if she becomes part of the family. She does have pretty hair.” Eight-year-old mind made up, he turned back to get his fishing pole.
Andrew laughed from behind one hand, his shoulders shaking with mirth. Jack stood beside him as the boys cast out into the lake.
“You know that’s the first time I have heard you laugh since I have been home,” Jack said.
Andrew’s gaze traveled toward the boys. “You were right. I can’t afford to wallow in regret. They need me to show them how to move forward.” He took a deep breath. “Oh, and I agree. She does have pretty hair.”
They both grinned at the wisdom of little boys.
****
The next few days were bliss for Vivian. She and Jack would spend the mornings in the study, enjoying being near each other while Jack worked, and she sketched. Then after lunch, they would either join the other guests at whatever amusements Lady Gilcrest had planned or Vivian would spend time with her aunts and Gabrielle, writing out invitations to the wedding or discussing the menu for the wedding breakfast. They planned on leaving by week’s end, so they could get back to London and have her wedding dress made.
Her enjoyment of the party was only marred when she caught Moreau observing her from across the room the evening after they stole his list. He smiled pleasantly and raised his glass in a silent toast. But the next day she again noticed him staring at her from across the veranda at luncheon. The man made her skin crawl, but she resolved to shake it off. She certainly wasn’t about to tell Jack, after all he had attacked Moreau for flirting with her. She couldn’t wait for Jack’s connections at the Foreign Office to come and apprehend the man.
In her room, Vivian crossed to where her mother’s trunk sat under the window. She kneeled in front of it, running her hand lovingly across the top of its smooth wooden surface, and opened the lid. Inside the top, she found the lever hidden in the turquoise lining and popped open the secret compartment. The hidden space held the few mementos of her mother she had dared take with her on the journey to England. A gold locket, encrusted with rubies which held a miniature of Mama gleamed against the silk backdrop. Next to it, the small pistol with a mother-of-pearl handle had been her mother’s. Vivian palmed the gun, its familiar weight comforting. It fit perfectly in the inner pocket of her skirts. She set it back down when she spotted her mother’s sketchbook.
The book contained drawings of her father and of Vivian as a young girl. She looked through them carefully, enjoying seeing her father’s broad, smiling face. She missed him so much. As she flipped through, a piece of parchment slid out from the pages and fluttered to her feet. She closed the journal and reached down to pick up the paper. It was a map, a nautical map with what seemed to be an island marked on it with longitude and latitude degrees printed next to it. That hadn’t been there before. She flipped it over. And there she saw a note scrawled in her father’s handwriting.
My dearest Vivi, if something should happen to me, these are the coordinates to where I have hidden my treasure for safekeeping. I will always love you. Papa.
That he had treasure hidden somewhere did not surprise her. But did her father need to be so damned dramatic about creating a hidden map for her to find upon his demise? Honestly, couldn’t he have just sat her down and told her where he kept his extra booty?
She rolled her eyes and placed the map back between the pages of the journal.
A knock came from the door. “Come in” she called out.
A footman entered. “The Captain asked me to give you a message, miss.”
“Yes?”
“He said to meet him out at the stables before luncheon. He has a surprise for you.”
“He does? Well, tell him I will be along shortly.” She smiled as the footman left. What could Jack be planning now? She placed the sketchbook and gun back into the compartment and shut the lid.
As she headed across the lawn toward the stables, a cacophony of female voices filled the air. At least a dozen ladies filled the stable yard. Stable hands scurried about with mounting blocks and riding crops.
“Will you be riding out for the ladies’ picnic as well, milady?”
Vivian turned to find the stable master standing next to her. “No. Jim. It looks as though you have your hands full this afternoon.”
He wiped his brow, looking flustered. “More ladies than I was prepared for decided to ride this afternoon.”
“Have you seen Captain Aston?”
“No, Miss Jamieson, can’t say I have. Do you want me to send one the lads to find him for you?”
“No Jim, I don’t think you can spare anyone right now. I will just head inside myself. Thank you.”
Jim gave her a tip of his cap.
As Vivian entered the stable the sense of eerie quiet made her shiver. She walked along the center aisle, peering into the gloom. “Jack?” she called out.
“Down here,” a muffled voice replied.
She moved farther down the aisle. As she came to the last stall before the tack room, a hand roughly grabbed her by the arm.
