“Ah, yes…you mentioned that the night we met.”
He actually listened to me and remembers what I told him all those years ago?
He proceeded to astound her further. “The arrangements at Foley’s. Are they yours?”
She couldn’t believe that he’d noticed them. “I wanted something to brighten up the shop. I couldn’t justify the expense of buying hothouse blooms, so they’re mostly wildflowers—”
“They’re lovely. You’ve a way with flowers, Maggie.”
His compliment slid through her like a hot toddy. “I learned from my mama. She didn’t have an easy go of it, being left to raise me and my four siblings after my papa died. But she used to say to me,Maggie, my girl, don’t forget to stop and smell the flowers.”
“Pragmatic yet fanciful.” He was looking at her as if he’d just figured out a puzzle. Then his gaze shifted beyond her. “About bloody time.”
They’d reached the end of the tunnel, which now widened into the final cavern. Maggie held her lamp up higher, revealing the striated brown walls and dome-shaped ceiling that nature had miraculously created.
“This is the last cavern,” she said. “Let’s split up to look for the treasure.”
Rhys nodded and they circled the perimeter, going in opposite directions. She held her lantern aloft, running her fingers along the rugged surfaces. As she worked, she wondered again why Horatio would hide Rhys’s inheritance in a cave. Rich folks did have more money than sense, it seemed.
“Maggie—I’ve found something.”
She hurried over. Rhys had set down her tool bag and was attempting to pry loose chunks of rock from the wall using his hands.
“This section looked different from the rest,” he said intently. “I think someone packed this rock in there.”
Crouching, she rummaged through her tool bag, extracting a small pickaxe. “Here, try this.”
He struck the tool into the wall, and rock came free. On the second hit, more rock showered to the ground. On the third try, he exclaimed, “By Jove, I think I struck something.”
“Careful. You don’t want to damage whatever it is.” She took out a brush made of stiffened horse hair. “Here, let me clear the way.”
Leaning in, she employed the brush with the same care she used when extricating delicate bones from rock. Plumes of gravel and dust dissipated, revealing a carved mahogany surface.
“It’s a chest,” she said with surging excitement. “And it’s large.”
“Allow me.”
She stepped aside to give Rhys room. Gripping the sides of the wooden box, he yanked it free in a cloud of dust. The chest was as wide as his torso and nearly as long. He set it down on the ground with a clunk; they both knelt beside it.
“It’s heavy.” Rhys’s exhilaration was palpable. “Let’s see what’s inside, shall we?”
Her breath held as he reached for the brass clasp and flipped open the lid.
In the red satin interior sat a folded piece of paper.
Scowling, Rhys snatched up the note and scanned it. “Devil take it.”
“What is it?”
“Another damned clue.”
Peering over his shoulder, she read aloud, “See with your heart, not your eyes.” She frowned. “What does that mean?”
“Bloody hell if I know.” He ripped off the satin lining, his scowl deepening when all that was revealed was the box’s wooden sides. “Horatio and his damned games. He’s probably laughing his head off from behind the pearly gates—unless he ended up in hotter climes. Would serve him right.”
His words simmered with frustration, yet Maggie sensed another emotion as well. A feeling she was well acquainted with: desperation.
Softly, she ventured, “This inheritance…it’s important to you, isn’t it?”
