Alister felt his expression darken but said nothing.
“Lead the way, Your Grace. Let’s finish this.”
He clenched his fists. He knew Lyra was angry with him, but since this wasn’t the time for an in-depth conversation, he forced himself to concentrate on the matter at hand.
Since it was still early afternoon, the sun was high in the sky. He led Lyra along the wall of the garden in an effort to blend into the shadowed landscape around them. When he found his chance, they ducked through an opening that revealed an impressive ornamental lawn. There were six sunken gardens all surrounding a perfectly clipped yew hedge where four separate walkways branched out from the midst of all this slumbering beauty.
The melting snow crunched lightly beneath his feet as he made his way to the rondel where a single figure was showcased. He ignored the almost-accusing marble face of Bellona the Roman Goddess of War and began to run his fingers up and down the length of the statue.
“What are you doing?” Lyra whispered. “I thought you told me the cipher meant latitude and longitude?”
“It does,” he replied somberly. “But sometimes the most obvious solutions are in plain sight. For the short time I glanced at the garden plans, I noticed the statue first. Its location was exactly in line with the numbers we found in Roger’s pocket watch.”
Lyra gave a decided frown as she bent down and began to inspect the plinth on which the statue stood. “Strange that the code wouldn’t have anything to do with the landscape at all,” she murmured.
“I have a feeling this stone has a false latch or hidden cache, something similar to what we found here and at Weston House.”
Lyra instantly pursed her lips in concentration, and Alister had to force himself to look away. She looked so beautiful that he wanted nothing more than to pull her to him and kiss her until they were both breathless.
He forced himself to focus on the task before him, finally standing to shove a hand through his hair. The statue and everything it sat on was completely intact.
It didn’t make sense.
Lyra stood next to him and sighed. “There’s nothing here. You must have missed something.”
He was about to reluctantly agree when something caught his attention—a slight, imperceptible difference in the carrara on one side of the plinth. Bending down, he knocked on all fours sides of the pedestal before he ordered, “Stand back.”
With that, he lifted his foot and kicked the base with his heel.
Instantly, a crack appeared. “It’s not true marble on this side but painted to look like it.” As he chipped away at the outer layer, there was definite evidence of plaster behind the facade. “It took a skilled professional to develop such a close copy.”
Lyra said nothing, just watched in fascination as he kept pulling chunks of the false marble free until he had enough room to put his arm inside. His fingers touched something hard and metallic. Wrapping his hand around it, he withdrew a small chest. It was rather plain and unassuming on the outside, but he knew it was what lay inside that lock that made all the difference.
“I don’t suppose you can pick it?” Lyra asked hopefully.
Alister had to smile at the breathless quality to Lyra’s voice. He’d be lying if he said his heart wasn’t pounding with the discovery. “I can do better than that,” he said with a smirk. Grabbing a nearby rock, he slammed it against the closure, causing it to break.
Just as he started to lift the lid, another shot rang out, causing dust from Bellona’s helmet to rain down on them.
“You’re going to wish you’d killed me, Albright!”
Richard’s irate voice was closer than Alister would have liked.
With a curse, he grabbed Lyra’s hand. “Run!” They headed for the cover of a row of trees at the edge of the main property. He knew they didn’t have much time before Richard reloaded and he had to get Lyra to safety.
“Blast! Where is Drayven?” he muttered.
“What does Lord Sussex have to do with this?”
He knew he needed to explain. “He’s another agent. I assigned him to keep watch of Richard.”
As another shot whizzed past their heads to slam into the bark of a tree. Lyra gasped. “I think I would have hired someone else.”
Alister was thinking that she might be right, but he only growled, “Keep moving!”
After a time, the brush around them grew dense, and the undergrowth began to slow their progress. Thorns and low-hanging branches tore at Lyra’s hair and gown until she knew if she ever made it back to Harville Manor she would have to come up with a story more believable than a trip to the village bookshop to explain her haggard appearance. Being set upon by a band of footpads should do the trick.
After a time, they came to a clearing that turned out to be a road. Lyra started to move out of the canopy of trees, but Alister stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Listen.”
