He eyed her a moment longer and then leaned in to inspect the box’s contents. His brow furrowed. “What in the world is it?”
“We’re not certain, but we can reasonably date it to the Anglo-Saxon period based on the designs on the metal.”
“Your father would have been very intrigued by this little scrap of metal, wouldn’t he?”
“Yes.” Tess could well imagine her father’s excitement. He’d be breathless, as she was, for whatever they might find next.
Fenbridge didn’t seem to share her enthusiasm. “I suppose the American was right after all.”
“You didn’t want the dig to be successful?”
Fenbridge settled back in his chair and lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Whatever’s under those mounds has been in the earth for centuries. I know others have been keen to have it all up.” He stared at her meaningfully. “But, as you well know, I’ve staunchly refused.”
“Until Mr. Van Arsdale paid you generously.”
“He did indeed and then sent his famous treasure seeker to do the deed.” Fenbridge pointed at the box. “Did Prince dig that scrap up?”
“No,” Tess said, suddenly feeling defensive, “I did.”
That raised a smile on the man’s wizened face. “Now that I quite like.”
“Why?” The man was maddening. “I might have dug it up years ago if you’d allowed me to, and then we could keep what we find here in England.”
“That worries you, doesn’t it?”
“Doesn’t it troubleyou?” Tess retrieved the box and stared down at the burnished gold. “It’s not about treasure. Not in the sense of a trove. This is our history.”
“Van Arsdale sees it as his own history too.”
Tess gritted her teeth. “But it’s here now. Has rested here for centuries, as you so rightly pointed out. It should stay here.”
At last, the nobleman’s eyes lit with interest. “If you’re so damned set against the American, why participate in his venture?”
The urge to say something snappish warred inside Tess, battling her understanding of how important it was to maintainFenbridge’s goodwill until the dig was complete. But the man had thwarted her own ambitions for years, only to yield to Van Arsdale. Could he not understand why she capitulated?
“It was the only way. You refused us and gave way to the American. If I was going to find what was buried in those mounds, this was my only choice.”
“And Prince is letting you dig on your own? Does he not fear you might steal the lot of it out from under him?”
“I’m not a thief, Lord Fenbridge.” Tess bristled.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “That’s not entirely true, is it, Miss Hawthorne?”
Tess barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “We were ten, my lord, and it amounted to two oranges.”
She and Tristan had found the Fenbridge orangery utterly fascinating and had dared each other to sneak in one evening. They’d both snatched an orange and been so racked with guilt that they’d confessed all of it to their mother the next day.
She’d brought them before Lady Fenbridge, who’d found it more amusing than anything. Apparently, Lord Fenbridge hadn’t shared her sense of forgiveness.
“Were they tasty?”
“They were bitter, if you must know.”
Fenbridge nodded thoughtfully. “So often, the things we yearn for turn out to be bitter in the end.”
If he hadn’t seemed lost in thought after that dour declaration, Tess might have thought it some roundabout reference to her personal history.
“But you and Prince are rubbing along well?”
