“I’m just so grateful you came when you did.”
His eyes found hers. “I knew you needed me.”
Perhaps he needed her too, though she didn’t say it aloud. “Then we must believe fate is on our side.”
That thought stayed with her as they walked past crooked headstones, overgrown grass peppered with wild violets, and a rotting wooden bench slick with algae. When they reached the steps of the mausoleum, they found the door ajar.
“Someone has prised the damn thing open.” Gabriel stepped forward, forcing her to remain behind him as he pushed the door wider and glanced cautiously inside.
She caught hold of his coat. “Well?”
“Everything is as we left it.”
She exhaled, not realising she’d been holding her breath. She’d expected to find… who knew what. “Mr Daventry believes the answers lie here, but it’s hard to know what we’re looking for. Why not just hide a list of names? Why the complex puzzle?”
“It had to be cryptic. Hidden from everyone but you. Your father knew they’d kill you once they had it. If only we knew whatitwas.”
They stood in silence, reading the epitaphs on the two stone tombs, but decided against moving the lid of the wooden coffin on the floor.
“There’s every chance that’s what made you ill,” he said.
“What if the clue is inside the casket?”
He seemed unwilling to accept the possibility. “A man who cared for you wouldn’t ask you to examine a corpse.”
“My father wouldn’t expect me to move a stone slab, either.”
“Then the clue is hidden in plain sight.”
They spent a few minutes in the cramped chamber, testingwhether the flagstones were loose and shifting the casket to see if anything was written beneath. She ran her hand over the Roman numerals, pressing them, half expecting a hidden catch—all to no avail.
“We’re wasting our time.” She cursed her father for placing her in this predicament. “We have nothing but a bag of useless trinkets and a key to this pointless crypt.”
Gabriel stared at the floor, lost in thought. “And we have a poem. Did your father know of your fondness for the Graveyard poets?”
“Yes.” He’d given her Gray’sElegyon the day of her mother’s funeral. “I’ve been drawn to the soul’s search for peace ever since my mother died.”
A subtle smile touched his lips. “I understand. Peace is fragile where absence lingers.”
How astute he was. She laid her hand on his coat sleeve, the wool soft beneath her fingers, though she knew the strength that lay beneath. “I’m here to listen, if you ever wish to talk.”
“You have a gift for putting stubborn men at ease.”
“And for thawing frost.”
His gaze deepened, something almost reverent in the way he looked at her. “Yes. You have the power to chase away winter’s chill.”
The moment hung between them, full of things left unsaid.
Then he seemed to remember himself, his expression turning thoughtful. “We must look for the symbolic meaning in everything. The items in the valise, the key, the poem are all relevant.”
She’d tried, but this man occupied most of her thoughts lately. “Let’s consider the items in the valise. If the compasspoints west instead of north, it could signify many things: my father being led astray, false leads, deception. In Ancient Egypt, west was the direction of the netherworld.”
His gaze snapped to hers. “Who told you that?”
“My father.”
“He did direct you to a graveyard.”
