Cordelia allowed herself to exhale. Turning, she found her youngest sister, clad only in a nightgown, rubbing her eyes, tired from sleep.
“What are you doing up at this hour, dearest?” Cordelia whispered. She promptly walked over and gathered Bea in her arms, taking a moment to balance both the book and the girl.
“I heard you and Portia whispering about something or other and I came to see what it was all about. But then I saw the library door was open, so I came to find you.”
“You’re a brave girl for doing that. Shall we go and get some hot cocoa from the kitchens?”
Bea perked up at that. “Yes, please!” she said happily.
Placing Bea safely on the ground, she ventured back to the empty space where the Shakespeare volume had resided. Now that the moon had come out and the light was clearer, she found that it had been placed, not amongst other poets, but between a rather small copy ofFaustusby Christopher Marlow and a biography of Queen Elizabeth I.
Cordelia smiled to herself.Among friends.
“Lia!” Bea called, as quietly as she could manage, from the doorway.
Going to join Bea in the corridor, Cordelia decided that for now, she would keep this latest development to herself. But hopefully not for long; the treasure would be in her hands and Hollyhead would be theirs. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she followed Bea to the kitchens; she could barely tamp down her excitement.
Soon, she promised herself.Soon.
Chapter Twelve
It was unlikeCordelia Nichols to be late. Justin already had the horses tacked and waiting in the stable yard. He checked his pocket watch again. Five minutes past eight o’clock. Justin harrumphed to himself, leaning against the stone wall of the stable. He’d ditched the nice trousers and was wearing a pair that he usually brought only to work sites in London, to inspect one of the buildings his firm was constructing. With his white shirt, jacket, and red necktie, he could have been mistaken for one of the staff.
But, as he realized, nothing he did seemed to please Miss High-and-Mighty, so he might as well try to be more of himself. Besides, the trousers were comfortable, and he expected them to be riding a long way today.
“Women, hey, Your Grace?” Sam said, approaching him with a steaming mug of what smelled like coffee. He offered him the drink.
“Cheers,” Justin said, lifting his mug as if to toast.
Sam smiled, all worn cheeks and wrinkles. “I knew ye when you were just a small lad,” he said. “Your father was a good man. Had a kind word for everyone, he did.”
Justin returned the smile. “I have to confess, Sam, I don’t rightly remember the place well at all. I was young when Charles and Alice took me in.”
“Aye, that’s right. He was a good man too, Charles. I was sorry to hear that he passed on nigh two year ago,” Sam said, wiping his jaw with a grizzled palm.
The memory caused Justin’s stomach to clench. There was an affect about Charles Nichols, with his vim and vigor, that made everyone believe such a lion of a man would live forever. And yet, a fever had him wasting away in bed for months until he finally succumbed. Alice was inconsolable for the better part of a year. She’d just started coming around to her old self when Justin had got the call that he needed to return to Hollyhead to sort out the dreadful mess of the estate.
“And how is yer ma?” Sam asked. “Pretty and gentle I remember her being.”
“Oh, she’s been well lately,” Justin answered. He’d only sent thin letters home, assuring everyone that things were well in hand. His mother replied with news of Penelope’s pregnancy, of the various happenings around London, of his name being mentioned in the scandal sheets. She was, like every other living thing alive, enamored with a Lady C.N., of whom Lady DeLessops frequently had things to say.
“I apologize!” A harried voice echoed off the walls.
Lady Cordelia Nichols came bounding out of a fog of dust, dressed in an exquisite dark-blue velvet riding habit. Holding a hand to her nose, she sneezed loudly, ruffling a few of the curls that were pinned beneath her cap. “I slept late,” she explained, sneezing again.
“Well,” Justin remarked, “we’d best be going, late as we already are.”
“Right,” she agreed, then she turned to the stable hand. “Good morning, Sam!”
“Mornin’, maid!” Sam replied. “Your tardiness would have naught to do with a statue being knocked over in the night, would it?”
Cordelia laughed. “Sam, I have no idea what you’re talking about. You should ask His Grace. I believe it was his idea.”
Instead of taking the bait, Justin simply winked at her. He approached the dappled mare, gathering the reins in one hand and swinging a leg over her small, sedate form.
“Oh,” Cordelia breathed. “Your Grace, I do believe that’s my horse…”
“Nah,” Justin said. “I’ve decided that Buttercup suits a Londoner more than that black hell creature. Besides, everyone at Hollyhead knows how much you prefer old Brutus to this little mare, I think.” He patted Buttercup’s neck and she nickered softly in response.
