“You don’t visit as often as you should, Thomas,” his mother said reproachfully. “Robert and Lucinda manage to come at least once a month to Drysedale Keep.”
Ridge flinched at the mention of Lucinda, his appetite suddenly gone. “I’ve been rather busy as of late.”
“Burying yourself in those useless studies,” the earl muttered.
“I’ve stumbled upon a remarkable find,” Ridge said, ignoring his father’s remarks. “Sir Roderick Castelton’s personal journal.” Excitement crept into his voice as he leaned forward. Never mind that his parents probably hadn’t any idea who Sir Roderick was. It didn’t dim his enthusiasm in the least.
“Yes, well, that’s marvelous, dear,” the countess said with a forced smile. “What do you intend to do with it, exactly?”
“I plan to mount an expedition to find the lost city of Pagoria,” he answered calmly.
“The devil you say!” his father exclaimed, dropping his fork on his plate with a loud clatter. “When are you going to drop all these silly notions of lost cities and ancient civilizations that no one cares a wit about?”
Ridge studied his father. He and his brother Robby bore a marked resemblance to the earl. Though his father’s hair had turned silver at his temples, the rest was still dark brown and showed no sign of thinning. But that was where the similarities ended. He shook his head. How had he sprung from the earl’s loins? They shared nothing in common. His father would never understand Ridge. The earl would never try.
“I care about them,” Ridge said quietly. “And should I be successful, it would constitute one of the greatest, perhapsthegreatest discovery of our times.”
The earl shook his head in disgust. “As the future Earl of Dryesdale, you have a responsibility to uphold. An image to maintain. How do you propose to do any of those things when you’re gadding about in the dirt?”
Ridge’s lips tightened and he grasped his wine glass until his knuckles whitened. For a brief moment, and with great satisfaction, he imagined the glass was his father’s neck. This wasn’t a new argument. Indeed, his passion had been a bone of contention between him and his father ever since Ridge left Cambridge to pursue his interest.
“Dreadful shame, Robert couldn’t be the heir,” his father muttered under his breath. “He at least has married and gives thought to providing an heir since you show no inkling to do so.”
Anger gripped Ridge, and he set his glass down before it shattered in his hand. He breathed deeply to calm the white-hot flash of fury that so often accompanied his father’s visits. His words should no longer have the power to hurt him. But in the back of his consciousness, he wanted one fleeting moment of approval from the man who had raised him. Just one. Even if such approval no longermeantanything. He’d grown beyond the needy child desperate for acceptance from his stoic father.
“Indeed it is,” he finally replied. “It must rankle you so to know the earldom will fall to a scholar. But don’t give up hope, perhaps it will fall to Robby and hisdearwife to provide the heir after all since I have no plan to marry and do so.”
“Come now, let’s talk of something more jovial,” his mother said with a nervous laugh. But her shock was obvious at his proclamation.
The two men remained silent. Ridge counted the minutes until his parents would leave, not to return until the next time they traveled to London and his mother felt the need to throw the family together. He had more important things to focus on than satisfying his father’s desire for a dutiful heir. He had gone that route with disastrous results, and he had no desire to repeat the experience.
###
India flipped frantically through her father’s notes, yanking one page after the other up and scanning rapidly over the scrawled words. Her breathing shallowed, and a light sheen of perspiration dotted her forehead.
She closed her eyes and recalled the image of the script etched in Sir Roderick’s journal. There was no mistaking what it said. But could it be true?
Dropping the handful of papers onto the desk, she rested her forehead in her palm. She rubbed her eyes wearily. She had been unable to go back to sleep after Lord Ridgewood’s departure. The odious man had barged into her home, and in a few short moments, turned her world on its end.
How had Sir Roderick been able to discover the lost city? And more importantly, why had he kept it a secret all these years? The idea that her father had indeed been correct in his theory about the city was astonishing.
What to do with the startling information? She moved her hands from her eyes and dug her fingers into her temples, willing the tightness to disappear. Standing, she stretched and flexed her weary muscles then she bent back over the desk, resting her palms on the aging surface.
Why had Sir Roderick, a man renowned for his discoveries, kept the truth to himself? She sought to remember the circumstances of his death. Had he died before he could announce his discovery?
She had been unable to muster any true regret over the snake’s demise. At one time, he was someone her father called friend. Until he had stolen one of her father’s discoveries.
A scowl crinkled her face. That betrayal had started her father down the road to discredit among his peers. Sir Roderick had managed to make her father look like a glory seeking thief instead of the true scholar he was.
The sound of breaking glass jerked her upright. She whirled around in the direction of the distant noise. It came from her bedroom. She gulped as terror rushed through her with startling speed. Her knees shook. Her breath caught then spilled torturously from her lips. Sweat collected on her forehead, and her hands became clammy.
She stood frozen, her stomach heaving in the throes of a full blown panic. She swallowed again and clenched her damp fingers into fists. Forcing her feet forward, she inched toward the door.
Her hand closed around the knob, and for a moment, she stood there, unwilling, afraid, to open the door. Gripping the knob tighter, she slowly turned it and peeked down the long hallway.
The light from wall sconces flickered and danced as she shoved the door wider. Silence loomed over the house. Her eyes glanced upward, as if to see the upstairs through the ceiling.
On silent feet, she moved down the hall, dreading the trip up the stairs into the unknown. Had Kavi and Udaya not heard the commotion? They often remained up late to accommodate India’s odd schedule, but if they were in the kitchen, it was doubtful they had heard anything.
