Chapter 15

"A treasure hunt?" Andrew repeated, and then raised a forkful of ham to his mouth.

"Yes, haven't you heard of one before?" Lady Crewe poured more tea into her cup and then dipped another piece of dry toast.

After a night filled with a great deal of tossing and turning and very little sleep Andrew had awakened hours after dawn. When he had finally made his way to the stables, he'd found them crawling with guests and servants. So instead of taking his morning ride he had decided to come to breakfast early, hoping to beat the crowd.

Instead, he had found the oldest Bellamy sibling reading a newspaper and eating sops.

"Er, a treasure hunt? What's that?" he asked, recalling that she had asked him a question. He wondered if the woman was ill. Why else would somebody eat something as tasteless as plain toast and watery tea?

"There are clues and whoever figures them out first will get the treasure."

"What's the treasure?"

She took a tiny sip of tea and then paled slightly.

"Are you unwell, my lady?"

She gave a small shake of her head, her lips pursed tightly, as if she might shoot the cat if she opened her mouth.

Andrew watched her surreptitiously while finishing his second helping of coddled eggs.

After several minutes a faint pink tinged her cheeks and she gave an audible sigh of relief and then took a swallow of tea.

"Nobody knows what it is," she said, setting down her cup with a sigh.

Andrew paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. "I beg your pardon?"

"The treasure. It is a secret."

"Ah."

"Lord Needham has provided it, and my sister Phoebe says it is something spectacular."

"How interesting," Andrew murmured. Unless the treasure was a large valise stuffed with ￡50 notes it sounded like a waste of time.

"It starts in less than an hour," she said.

"I see." The way she was looking at him made Andrew wonder if he had food on his face.

"Are you going to play, my lord?"

He glanced out the massive arched windows that flooded the breakfast room with light even on a gloomy day. Large drops of sludgy sleet slapped almost angrily against the panes. One of the huge wych elms for which the house was named whipped wildly back and forth in the wind.

"It looks a bit cold outside to be playing games," he observed.

"Are you afraid of a little rain, my lord?" Her lips curved up at the corners, making her look even lovelier than she already did. All the Bellamy women were beautiful—even the duchess, in her own terrifying way.

"Rain? It looks more like sleet to me." He pulled his gaze from the slate gray sky back to his breakfast companion. "As for participating in this treasure hunt , I hadn't—"

The door opened and Kathryn, Lucy, Lady Celsa, and a young woman Andrew had never seen before burst into the room, their coats, mittens, and pink cheeks proclaiming that they'd been out in the brisk weather.

"Ah, there you two are Shelton," Kathryn said. "Come along, we are forming teams."

"Teams?" Andrew repeated.

"For the treasure hunt!" Lucy said, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

Kathryn turned to her sister. "Lia, your husband is teamed up with Linny and Lord Jevington. Miss Gordon is with Mr. Dennehy and Mr. Dixon—"

"Wait," Lady Crewe interrupted. "Dixon and Dennehy are on the same team? They are Needham's secretaries. Surely that gives them an unfair advantage?"

"They have assured me that Needham invented the clues himself," Kathryn said, and then turned back to her list. "Captain Walker is on a team with Doddy and—"

"Me!" Lucy chirped.

"That's right," Kathryn agreed. "So, Lia, why don't you—"

"I agreed to partner with Mr. Leeland and Chatham last night," Lady Crewe said.

Kathryn's forehead puckered. "Mr. Leeland?"

"He is one of Papa's friends," Lucy explained.

"Good, then you are sorted." Kathryn turned to Andrew. "What about you?"

Andrew frowned. "What about me?"

"Are you finished eating?" She looked at his plate, which was indeed empty of all but a few scraps.

"Er—"

"Good. You can be on my team." She gave him a sweet smile that Andrew did not for a minute believe. "I will wait until you finish." She dropped down into the chair across from him, laced her fingers together, set her chin on them, and stared at him.

Lady Crewe laughed.

Andrew sighed and tossed his napkin onto the table. "I guess I am finished. But first I must fetch my coat and hat."

Kathryn sprang up from her chair. "Excellent! This will be fun, my lord."

Andrew suspected it would be torture. "Who else is on our team?"

"It is a surprise!"

Why did her smile make Andrew feel like a fox with a pack of hounds on its trail?

***

"Her ladyship has asked not to be disturbed this morning," Ackers said when Stacia showed up at her employer's chambers after receiving no summons for a third morning in a row.

"She still suffers from her migraine?"

"Thankfully she is past that. But the pain took a great deal out of her and she is exhausted and sleeping."

"I see." Stacia chewed her lip, both elated to be free but worried that she was not doing what she was supposed to be doing. "Do you know when she might want me?"

"I have no idea." The older woman cast a worried glance at the countess's door.

"What is it?"

"This is a very unhappy family."

"Did something happen?"

Ackers hesitated and then said, "The countess was sitting up this morning. She even took a little tea and toast. And then her youngest daughter paid her a visit."

Stacia's eyebrows rose. "It is unusual for her ladyship to invite company so early."

"Lady Kathryn wasn't invited."

"I see." The countess did not care for unexpected guests.

"They argued. It became…heated."

Stacia was ashamed to be so eager to gossip about her employer, but could not help herself from saying, "Oh?"

Ackers inched closer. "My lady wants her daughter to return to Bath after the holiday is over. Lady Kathryn refused—loudly. She said something to the effect that the last time she'd obeyed her mother she had lived to regret it. Her ladyship…wept."

Stacia's eyes almost rolled out of her head at the image of the countess actually crying .

"It sounded as though something happened to Lady Kathyrn when she was staying with the countess's sister this past summer."

" Something ? What do you mean?"

Ackers shrugged. "I couldn't hear that part. They stopped shouting at that point." After a moment, the maid shook herself. "In any case, the countess has returned to her bed and will not need you today. You should look upon it as an extended holiday." The older woman gave Stacia a conspiratorial smile. "I heard talk at breakfast this morning that there is to be a treasure hunt. Evidently Lord Needham has supplied a valuable prize for the winner. Why don't you play?"

Mr. Dixon had told her about the treasure hunt last night when he'd escorted her home from the village dance.

Stacia had taken a liking to the handsome, kindly man. She appreciated that he seemed to be going out of his way to make her feel welcome at Wych House. She suspected that at least part of his kindness had to do with the way the countess treated her, but there was no denying the fact that he had danced twice with her last night and only one other time, with one of the Lowery twins.

Not only that, but he had been attentive during their dance, not flitting off to dance attendance on anyone else—no matter how attractive—like Lord Shelton had done at the skating pond.

Why are you thinking about him?

Stacia gritted her teeth. Dixon, like Captain Walker, was exceedingly attractive, attentive, and eligible. Why could she never enjoy a man's company without Lord Shelton weaseling his way into her head?

"Go and play, Miss Martin," Ackers said, pulling Stacia from her thoughts.

Stacia smiled. "I will."

***

When Andrew arrived in the foyer twenty minutes later, it was to find only Kathryn and Miss Martin waiting.

Andrew gave Kathryn a hard look, but she merely smiled.

"Where is everyone else?" he asked, glancing around the cavernous, chilly entry hall.

"Everyone else has already collected their clues and begun playing. Our team is you, me, and Miss Martin," Kathryn said, smiling from Andrew to Miss Martin.

Why was he not surprised?

Miss Martin, however, was surprised. And it wasn't a pleasant one, if her faint scowl was anything to go by.

Andrew had hoped they'd got past her hatred of him yesterday. Now he wondered if they'd really had that conversation on the ice, or if he had merely dreamed it.

"So," Kathryn said, either not noticing the other woman's sour expression, or not caring. "Here is our first clue." She unfolded a piece of parchment. Andrew stepped closer to read it and, after a moment, so did Miss Martin.

We possess four legs, but no feet. When you are weary, we can offer your body, and your soul, relief.

He looked up. "Chairs? Benches?"

"That could be anywhere," Miss Martin said, giving him a scornful look. "And neither of those things do anything for one's soul."

Andrew couldn't help grinning at her scathing answer. "Good point." He winked at her and was amused when her face darkened, and her scowl deepened.

"I agree with Shelton," Kathryn said.

Andrew did a doubletake at this unprecedented event.

"Benches in the chapel," Kathryn explained, her grin genuine—not the world-weary expression he was accustomed to seeing on her face. She grabbed Miss Martin's hand. "Come, let us hurry. This was an easy clue; the others will already have collected the next one."

When they entered the ancient chapel a footman waited in the narthex, seated at a table with a silver bowl containing folded pieces of paper.

"Are we the last ones, Charles?" Kathryn demanded.

"No, my lady. I've got two left."

She clucked her tongue and glared at Andrew. "Thanks to your foot dragging we are the second-to-last group."

"Luckily for you, I am worth the wait, darling," he shot back.

She gave a justifiably scornful laugh and unfolded the next clue. Not bockety but not steady. Home to many but not for people.

Miss Martin's forehead furrowed. "Bockety?"

Andrew chuckled. "It is an Irish term and means unstable."

"How did you know that?" she asked, her tone oddly accusatory.

"I had Irish soldiers under my command. Why? Where did you think I'd heard it?"

"I'm sure I don't know," she retorted.

"You thought I heard it somewhere naughty, didn't you, Miss Martin?" Like a brothel.

She pursed her lips.

Andrew snorted and then turned to Kathryn, who was regarding them with an irritating smirk.

Andrew bared his teeth at the interfering minx. She just laughed.

"The stables."

Andrew and Kathryn broke off their staring competition at the sound of Miss Martin's words.

"The next clue is in the stables," she explained. "Home to many but not people, so horses. And not, er, bockety, so—"

"Stable." He smiled at her. "Well done, Miss Martin!"

She started to smile but caught her lower lip just in time.

Andrew decided he was beginning to enjoy himself.

***

Stacia decided to enjoy herself, regardless of Lord Shelton's presence.

She would not be fooled by his attentiveness—not after skating with him. She would remind herself often that he was only flirting with her because there was nobody else other than Lady Kathryn available, and he squabbled with her as if she were his younger sibling.

She purposely fell behind Lady Kathryn and the handsome lord as they headed toward the stables. He looked as lovely from behind as he did from any other direction. Broad shoulders garbed in a caped great coat, a tall beaver hat, breeches and riding boots.

Stacia had dressed for the outdoors, as well, but even swathed in heavy wool with mittens and a bonnet she felt the bite of the icy rain.

"—Lady Kathryn!"

All three of them stopped and turned.

It was the maid Dora who'd called out, and she was squinting against the sleet.

"What are you doing out here without a coat or hat, Dora?" Lady Kathryn demanded.

"Er—" Dora's gaze flickered from Lady Kathryn to Stacia and then back, something about her expression…off. "Lady Addiscombe sent me to fetch you."

"Her ladyship is up and about?" Stacia asked before Lady Kathryn could answer. "Perhaps I should—"

"No. It sounds as if she wants me," Lady Kathryn said. "You continue playing," she ordered, shoving the clues into Stacia's hands. "I will see what my mother wants and rejoin you. Come along, Dora. You will catch your death of cold out here."

Stacia watched until they disappeared and then turned to find Lord Shelton waiting for her, a sardonic smirk on his face.

"I'm sure—" she broke off and bit her lip.

"What are you sure about?"

"Nothing."

His smirk grew, and it irked her into speaking. "I am sure you have better things to do than play this game. You needn't stay," she said primly, and then headed toward the stables, not looking to see if he was coming or not.

"I am enjoying myself," he said, catching up to her easily with his long strides. When she didn't answer, he said, "How is your little dog faring?"

"He is fine." That sounded abrupt and rude, so she relented and added, "He has been up and about, there is no keeping him lying down. But Mr. Higgins keeps him in a stall, so at least he cannot put too much strain on the injury."

"He looked to be a sturdy little beast. I daresay he will heal quickly."

"I, er, spoke to the post mistress and also the innkeeper about him. Thank you for that suggestion."

"I am pleased to be of use."

Stacia pursed her lips as she studied his face for mockery. But he looked innocent. Almost suspiciously so.

There were several stable lads and grooms hovering about the entrance to the stables, all of them looking amused—no doubt at the foolishness of the treasure hunt—and one of them called out to Lord Shelton when they approached. "Going riding, my lord? Shall I saddle Drake for you?"

"Not today, Gerald. Today I am hunting treasure."

The men chuckled, their gazes sliding to Stacia in a way that made her face heat.

"Here is your next clue, my lord," Gerald said.

Lord Shelton took the piece of paper and handed it to Stacia. "Has everyone else already come and gone?"

"No, you are the first, my lord."

"The first?" Lord Shelton turned to Stacia. "You are a very good partner, indeed, Miss Martin."

She ignored the joyful leaping in her chest and moved past the clutch of servants, eager to be out from under their curious eyes.

Once they'd gone inside the building a few feet, she stopped and unfolded the clue.

Lord Shelton leaned closer to read, the action bringing a subtle whiff of cologne, leather, and wool with him.

Stacia filled her lungs and held the scent inside her. How could a person smell so good? How ?

" I have many arms but no legs, " he read aloud. After a moment, he looked up. "What do you think?"

Stacia shook her head and repeated the clue, " I have many arms but no legs ."

Voices drifted in from outside and Stacia heard the Duke of Chatham say, "Are we the first?"

Before anyone could answer Lord Shelton called out, "Not hardly, Sylvester."

The duke's laughter preceded him inside. He did a doubletake when he saw Stacia standing beside Lord Shelton but smiled politely. "Hello, Miss Martin." His smile turned into a grin when he faced his cousin. "Fancy seeing you here, Drew."

Drew. What a perfectly lovely nickname.

"I wouldn't be here if not for Miss Martin," Lord Shelton said. "She is the brains of our operation."

Stacia tried not to preen.

"I'm fortunate to have two clever partners." The duke gestured to Lady Crewe and Mr. Leeland.

Lady Crewe, who was holding the clue, narrowed her eyes when she saw Stacia and Lord Shelton. "Don't say anything, Mr. Leeland! Spies are listening."

Everyone chuckled.

"Come, Miss Martin, I know when I am not wanted," Lord Shelton said, lightly setting a hand on Stacia's back and guiding her out of the stables just as two more groups arrived.

"Don't tell me we are last!" Lord Bellamy demanded of the groom with the clues.

Lord Shelton leaned close and hissed in her ear, "Let's sneak away while they are all chattering."

"Do you know where we are going next?" she asked.

"Yes."

They hurried off unnoticed as the new arrivals engaged in some good-natured ribbing.

"Where is the next clue?" Stacia asked as she took two steps to every one of his and still could barely keep pace.

He grinned at her. "You will see."

***

"Tell me, my lord," Miss Martin ordered as she trotted to keep up with Andrew.

"The armory."

She frowned as if recalling the clue, and then her eyes widened, and she gave him a look of grudging respect. "How clever of you."

Andrew raised his eyebrows in mock amazement. " Me, clever? Why, thank you, Miss Martin!"

She pursed her lips primly at his teasing. Andrew was amused by her reaction. He suspected Miss Martin had no clue how alluring the expression was. How it drew attention to that full lower lip of hers.

"How are you enjoying the house party so far, Miss Martin?" he asked when it was clear that she would not break the silence.

Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"That was not a trap, Miss Martin, just a question."

"The Bellamy family is very welcoming and kind."

"Most of them are," he agreed.

Miss Martin opened her mouth, but then closed it without asking him what he meant. Her expression changed to one that was almost…curious.

"Go ahead and ask whatever you are thinking," he said, already able to guess her question.

"I was just wondering why you've come to the house of a woman you abducted."

"You do not pull your punches, do you. No—no, I will answer," he added when she began to make sounds of retracting her question. "My cousin asked me to come, as did his wife. They made the argument that our families are now joined so there should be no ill feelings. I had apologized to Lady Shaftsbury before—in a letter as she did not wish to receive me in person at the time—but I felt I owed her a face-to-face apology."

She nodded.

"What about you?" he asked.

"Me? I am here because my employer is here."

"Your family must be missing you."

"There is nobody else."

The way the muscles in her face tightened told him the subject was a sore one and Andrew decided not to pursue it.

Instead, he stopped in a wide, paneled corridor and glanced around. "The door is here…somewhere," he murmured, pushing on the scrolling and trying to recall where the catch was hidden.

"A hidden door?"

He smiled at the excitement in her voice. "Yes. The idea was to keep the armory a secret from any enemies."

"How do you know about the door?"

"Lord Needham took Chatham and me on a tour and delighted in showing us Wych House's many, many secrets." The tip of his tongue poked out and his brow furrowed in concentration as he continued to feel the panel. "I could swear it was—ah!" He pushed a carved acorn and there was a dull click and the panel swung inward.

Miss Martin peered into the gloom. "It looks as if somebody lighted the sconces, but it is still rather dark."

"Allow me to go first." He stepped onto the small landing and cast a glance down the wide stone stairs. "Yes, it is lighted all the way down."

"Should I shut this panel?" she asked.

"You'd better leave it open. There is a mechanism on this side to open it, but it will take some doing to find it. Hold onto this rope railing while you descend." The stairs had a very gentle curve, one that would not impede moving weaponry up and down and were wide enough for four men to walk abreast.

When they reached the bottom the massive iron-strapped door was already propped open and there was a table on the far side of the room, complete with a candelabra and large bowl, although no footman was seated beside it. "We're obviously in the right place."

"Look at those." She pointed to the suits of armor that ran along one wall as they crossed the vast, low-ceilinged room. "This is an impressive collection."

"They actually belong to Needham, not Addiscombe," Andrew said. "His father collected them. You might have heard of him—Iron Mad Needham?"

"He was responsible for inventing some sort of gun, wasn't he?"

"Something like that, yes. He gave the patent to the Crown."

"That is why he received his title, is it not?"

Andrew chuckled. "Yes, but it is not done to say it so baldly."

"Oh, I didn't mean—"

"I am only teasing you."

She scowled up at him, faint candlelight casting a warm glow over her features.

"Don't you like to be teased, Miss Martin?"

Andrew knew he shouldn't, but the way she was staring up at him…

He reached down and lightly caressed the gentle curve of her jaw with the back of his fingers.

Her lips parted and she drew in a ragged breath. "What are—"

Boisterous voices and the clattering of feet on stairs made them both jolt.

"We had better collect the clue," Miss Martin said, hurrying over to the bowl. She took out a piece of paper just as a small crowd of people poured into the room.

Andrew sighed. Thank God the others had come along when they did. What on earth could he have been thinking?