“Because you still see with a child’s eyes. Your mother cherished you. You were the one good thing that resulted from her marriage, and even though the duke prohibited her from spending time alone with you, she found her happiness in those rare moments she had of your company. When she and I were alone, she spoke with pride about you. About what a handsome boy you were. How quickly you learned to speak, even though she didn’t understand the language. About how brave you were to stand between her and your father.” Mrs. Smith’s eyes had a sudden sheen. “She was proud of you; you brought herjoy.”
His chest burned with emotion. He didn’t trust himself to speak.
Mrs. Smith leaned forward, her hands flat on the table. “The duke forbade your mother from learning English, the same way he forbade her from teaching you Chinese. But she secretly gave you a name in Chinese. Did you know that?”
He shook his head mutely.
“Nan-Di,” Mrs. Smith said. “Literally, it translates as ‘difficult to fight against’. It is a name given to a boy who is strong and brave, who perseveres in the face of overwhelming odds. That is how your mother saw you.”
Her words dislodged the arrowhead of his past. Pain and sorrow bled in its wake, but it was staunched by an excruciating beauty. One that began to heal him even as it rocked his very foundation.
Maggie came to him, wrapping her arms around his waist, and he held her. He anchored himself in her embrace, the succor offered by the woman he loved, as the past flowed through him, out of him…and he finally let it go.
Composing himself, he turned to face Mrs. Smith, who’d also risen.
“Thank you, madam.” He bowed over her hand. “For your kindness and service to my mama. And to me.”
“It was my honor to serve the duchess. And if it wasn’t for her journey, I would not have found my own.” She smiled at her husband, who stood protectively by her side.
“I must ask one more thing of you,” Rhys said. “My uncle, did he perchance leave you something to give to me?”
“Ah, yes. He told me to give it to you after we talked. I will fetch it.”
She returned moments later. Rhys’s heart thudded as he saw what lay in her palm.
“Thank you for seeing us at this late hour,” Rhys said.
“We are sorry if we disturbed your rest,” Maggie added.
“I am old.” As if to prove that point, Gruenwald rose creakily from his desk by the vault. “As my grandmama used to say, I shall sleep when I am dead. Do you have it?”
Rhys took out the key that Mrs. Smith had given him. The polished gold bow bore the stamp of Gruenwald and the number 108.
“Excellent,” the goldsmith said. “And the card?”
Rhys handed over the thin piece of embossed gold.
After a thorough appraisal, Gruenwald nodded. “Everything appears to be in order. Follow me, if you please.”
He led the way slowly to the massive door of the vault. The guards unlocked the sliding metal gate that protected the vault door, stepping aside deferentially as Gruenwald removed a key from his pocket.
Rhys saw that there were two key openings; the goldsmith inserted his into the bottom one.
“Place your key in the top slot,” Gruenwald said. “We will turn together, on the count of three.”
Rhys followed the instruction; there was a click, and the heavy door opened into darkness.
Gruenwald waved his hand at one of the guards, who entered the vault. A moment later, light flared inside the space, revealing rows of iron boxes.
“You’ll find the safe box with the matching number on the wall to your right, middle of the stack,” Gruenwald said. “I’ll close the door behind you for privacy.”
Thanking the goldsmith, Rhys entered the vault, Maggie by his side. The spacious cavern was hushed as they made their way through the iron hedgerows. The boxes were square, about five feet wide, and stacked three high. Rolling ladders were supplied to reach the higher boxes.
Each box had a bronze plate engraved with a number, and they found Number 108 where Gruenfeld said it would be.
Rhys’s gaze met Maggie’s. “I hope my uncle wasn’t exaggerating about the treasure.”
“There’s only one way to find out,” she said.
