She reached into her pocket, reassuring herself that she did indeed still possess the key. It was the only bargaining tool she had in her bid to free her father.
The morning sun shone on her face, and she glanced around for a place to retreat into the shade. She walked over to a large oak tree and hunkered down against the base of the trunk, allowing the branches to shade her from the bright sun.
She squinted and looked northward, to the peaks of the majestic mountains jutting skyward. Was Pagoria nestled within those peaks? Had the mountains protected her all this time?
She had tried to speak to Juan Miguel during their journey. Asked him countless questions, but he had remained silent, refusing to answer even one. She didn’t know any more now than when she had begun this whole affair.
Her heart sank, and she closed her eyes. She would give anything to be experiencing Ridge’s excitement as they looked toward the mountains. His eyes would gleam with anticipation, with eagerness to unfold this most prestigious find.
Instead, he sat back at the inn, probably cursing her perfidy.
A tear trickled down her cheek, and when she wiped it away, it made a muddy streak on her hand. She untied the scarf from her neck and used it to wipe the dust from her face.
“I wish you were here,” she whispered.
Was there a chance he could ever forgive her? Probably not. He wasn’t man who could easily forgive deception. And she had lied to him about everything. Not just the location of the city, or that her father was still alive. She had let him believe the city was a thing of the past. Buried rubble. An historical find.
She could imagine the look of wonder should he know the truth. He had a scholarly mind. Someone that in other circumstances she would be drawn to.
She snorted in derision. Who was she kidding? She was drawn to himnow. She loved him. Longed for him with her every breath. And it was killing her to leave him.
She scrubbed at her face one more time as she saw Juan Miguel approach with the horses.
“Are you ready to continue, Senorita?” he called out.
She stood and dusted the back of her trousers off. She walked toward Juan Miguel and reached for the reins. As she gripped the leather straps, her eyes lighted on Juan Miguel’s wrist and she froze.
Tattooed on the top of his wrist was the same symbol she had seen on her pursuer in London.
Chapter Twenty-Four
London
Caroline Hadley sipped at her morning coffee then set the cup down on the breakfast table she’d had positioned in the garden. In years past they had all breakfasted here amidst the flowers she had lovingly planted. When they were still a family.
Her hand shook as she raised her cup again. They would never be a family again. Not in the same way. She closed her eyes then winced as the hot liquid sloshed over the rim of her cup onto her hand.
She slammed the cup down then wiped the injured skin with a napkin. Tears swam in her eyes, blurring her vision. Damn the waiting. She couldn’t sit here while her sons were in another country, one of them dying.
She had remained in London, wanting to be as close as possible for when her husband returned from Spain. She prayed he’d be successful. She couldn’t countenance an alternative. He had to bring them home again. So they could start over and enjoy Robert’s remaining time.
Where was Lucinda in all of this?
The thought struck her like a bolt of lightning. Once she had approved of the young woman, welcomed her into her family. But that was before she had played with the affections of two brothers.
Caroline hadn’t wanted Robert to marry Lucinda, but she had never said as much. Maybe she should have.
She sighed and dabbed at her eyes. There were so many should haves. Would she be haunted by them for the rest of her life?
Did that vain young woman even know of the havoc she had wreaked? Anger hummed in Caroline’s veins. Sitting here was driving her mad. She had to do something, even if it was just insuring Robert’s happiness when—if he returned home.
She stood up, shoving aside her half-finished coffee. In a whirl of skirts, she strode back into the house, calling for her butler.
“Summon the carriage at once. I have a call to make,” she announced.
Thirty minutes later, she rolled up to Robert’s townhouse. Her stride determined, she smoothed her skirts and marched up the walkway to the front door.
She knocked forcefully and waited for an answer. Robert’s butler opened the door, his mouth curving into a welcoming smile when he saw her standing there.
