“Then you’ll have to look harder, won’t you? Due to my generous nature, I’ll give you until nightfall tomorrow, when I will come to collect. If you fail to meet my demands—if you breathe word of this to anyone—this handsome lord of yours will meet a painful end. Do you understand?”
Xenia looked at him with panic and misery and desperate love. He hated that he couldn’t protect her. That he couldn’t communicate the words burning inside him.
This is not your fault. But I know you can handle the situation. I believe in you—I love you.
He wanted to tell her that she could trust his family. And that she should, under no circumstances, trust Lady Jo to uphold her end of the bargain.
“There are people in the house,” Xenia said, gnawing on her lip. “How can I look for treasure without them knowing what I’m doing?”
“Get rid of them. You’ll find a way.” The corners of Lady Jo’s mouth tipped up with satisfaction. “You are my daughter, after all.”
ChapterThirty-Five
Xenia reached Bottoms House just before dawn. She’d run all the way back, stumbling through the darkness, desperate to get started on the Sisyphean task of finding the treasure. She had less than a day remaining; Lady Jo had made the terms of her “bargain” explicit.
“To ensure your compliance, my men will be keeping your lover in a secret location,”her mother had said.“If my treasure is not ready for me when I arrive, I will send word to my men, who will end your precious lord faster than you can shed a tear. However, if you are a good girl and do as your mama says, I will let your lover live.”
Experience had taught Xenia not to put faith in her mother’s mercy.
This is my fault.Despair suffocated her.Ethan’s life is hanging in the balance because of me.
She entered the manor through the kitchen. Lighting a lamp, she moved stealthily, for she didn’t want anyone to hear her come in and start asking questions. Lady Jo had been clear that she was to tell no one…to do so would put Ethan in danger. Yet she couldn’t quell her doubts: even if she succeeded in finding the treasure, Lady Jo was likely to kill Ethan anyway. Once he was no longer a bargaining chip, he would become a liability…and Xenia would be powerless to help him.
I cannot save Ethan on my own. Who can I trust? Would the Blackwoods believe me if I went to them…or would they think I’m in cahoots with Lady Jo and have me arrested?
If she went to Ethan’s family and they didn’t trust her—honestly, who could blame them?—she might lose what time she had to look for the valuables and barter for his life. On the other hand, if she followed her mama’s instructions and managed to empty the house, she would have to find the treasure on her own.
What if I fail? What if I cannot save Ethan?
She agonized over the right course of action, wishing she had someone to advise her. Wishing she was not so alone. Suddenly, a sensation swept over her: the feeling of another presence nearby. She looked around the empty kitchen, and instead of feeling afraid, she was comforted, even if the company was ethereal. When a cool draft caressed her cheek, she turned her head in its direction, and her gaze caught a copperish gleam on the floor.
Going over, she picked up the object.
A penny.
Xenia clutched the gift to her chest.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Summoning her courage, Xenia knocked on Lady Blackwood’s door. As the housekeeper, she knew from the state of the marchioness’s bed in the morning that her husband spent the night with her, but this did not prepare her for the sight of a disheveled Lord Marcus Blackwood standing in the doorway. Clad in a navy dressing gown, his thick hair tousled, he seemed even more formidable than usual.
“What are you doing here at this early hour, Mrs. Wood?” He frowned. “What happened to your face?”
“I need to speak to Lady Blackwood,” she said. “Please, it concerns Lord Ethan.”
“Marcus, darling, who is it?” Lady Blackwood’s sleepy voice drifted over.
“It’s Mrs. Wood.” His gaze alert now, the marquess stepped aside to let her in. “She says it’s about Ethan.”
Inside, Xenia was greeted by Lady Blackwood, who’d obviously just thrown on her robe and was lighting a lamp. Nonetheless, her violet eyes were sharp.
“Xenia, what’s wrong?” she asked.
“Ethan is in danger,” Xenia blurted. “I need your help.”
She told them everything.
About her mama and the life she’d led before running away at sixteen. About the work she’d done. About getting a job as Ethan’s housekeeper, turning a new leaf, and falling in love with him. About her mama’s threat, the supposed treasure, and Ethan being taken as hostage. She didn’t spare herself: this washerfault, all of it. She’d been too weak to stop her mother, but she would do anything—even turn herself in to the authorities—if they would help her find the stolen goods and get Ethan back.
