by Darcy Burke
Unless Septon’s men had rescued him by now. Gideon hoped so for the man’s sake.
“First, however,” Gideon continued, “we must find the cloak. And that’s why we’ve returned.”
“It isn’t here,” Rhys said. “Is there a clue in my library somewhere?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Let’s sit,” Margery said. “You must be tired after your journey.” She led them to the seating area, where she took a chair near the settee and Rhys took another. That left the settee for Daphne and Gideon.
“Speaking of your journey, where did you come from?” Rhys asked.
“Glastonbury. Before that, we visited Septon. He plans to marry my mother.” That fell out of Gideon’s mouth before he’d even decided to say it.
“Margery gave him a supportive smile. “Are you happy about it?”
Gideon arched a shoulder. “I suppose. It will be strange.”
Rhys blew out a breath. “And a relief. I take it Septon was helpful in your quest? Why did he direct you back here?”
“He didn’t.” Gideon looked from Rhys to Margery and back again. “He directed us to Brue Cottage.”
Margery glanced at Rhys, who, like her, didn’t react to that name. “Where is Brue Cottage?”
“Near the River Brue, I imagine,” Rhys said, earning a sardonic stare from his wife. He blew her a kiss, then returned his attention to Gideon. “What is Brue Cottage?”
“It is home to an ancient order of healers,” Gideon said. “Morgana was one of their rank.”
“Morgan le Fay?” Margery looked toward Daphne. “That had to have been thrilling for you to visit such a place.”
Daphne’s face lit. “It was.” She exchanged a look with Rhys, silently asking if she could elaborate. He nodded in response. “Elidyr was a monk at the nearby Beckery Chapel, and he wrote a series of manuscripts.”
“The Beckery Texts,” Rhys whispered. “I’ve heard rumors of those for some time. I had no
idea they were real. Did you get to see them?”
“No, but we will when we return,” Gideon said.
“They belong to him,” Daphne added. “As a descendant of Gareth, they’re his stories, and Gwyneth wants him to have them.”
“I plan to bring them here,” Gideon said. “Along with one the Order possesses. I just have to talk them into giving it to me first. You should study them. They belong in your library. There is no finer scholar in Britain.”
Rhys blinked, then fixed Gideon with a proud stare. “Thank you. I would be honored to have them for as long as you permit.”
“Who is Gwyneth?” Margery asked.
“The leader—I think?” Daphne looked at Gideon, who again nodded in response. “The leader of the order at present.”
Margery coughed. “They call themselves an order?” She was perhaps the least supportive of the Order of the Round Table. The Order—and not Camelot—had attacked her and Rhys during their own quest to decipher the coded de Valery manuscript.
“She scoffed at the Order of the Round Table,” Gideon said. “You would like her, Margery.”
Margery grinned. “I look forward to meeting her. If I may.”
“So what in particular brings you back here?” Rhys asked.
“The chest from my grandfather that you gave me when I was here last,” Gideon said. “Daphne didn’t tell you Gwyneth’s full name—Gwyneth Nash-Hughes.”
Rhys’s brows lifted in surprise. “You’re related?”
“At some point along the line. We are both descended from Gareth.”
“And indirectly from Morgan, since she was Gareth’s aunt.” Daphne’s tone was a mix of admiration, pride, and perhaps a bit of envy.
“How extraordinary,” Rhys said.
“I am fairly certain that’s what Daphne and I both said,” Gideon quipped. “The chest has been in our family since that time.”
Rhys frowned. “Not that chest, surely. It’s far too new to be from the sixth century.”
“She said it had been replaced a time or two,” Daphne said.
“She also said the cloak was inside, but it is not.” Gideon pressed his lips together, suddenly quite anxious to see the chest again. He realized it was hidden in the secret room behind Rhys’s bookshelf, and he wouldn’t want to open that in front of Daphne. “If you could have the chest fetched, I’d like to look at it later.” He hoped Rhys understood.
“And we’ll need to take it back to Brue Cottage so Gwyneth can help us determine what happened to the cloak.”
“How can she do that?” Margery asked.
“She didn’t say, but their order clearly possesses knowledge I can’t begin to understand.” Gideon wondered if their talents were learned or innate. Since they were related, was there a chance he was like them?
“Well then, I’ll be most anxious to hear that story.” She stood, prompting her husband and Gideon to do the same, and turned toward Daphne. “Come, Lady Stratton. You probably want to retire for a bit before dinner. We’ll investigate the chest afterward.”
Daphne stood. “Please, call me Daphne.” She spoke to Margery but looked to Rhys too.
Margery moved her gaze from Daphne to Gideon. “Do you want separate rooms?”
“Yes,” he said, noting that Daphne didn’t answer. He hoped she wouldn’t have another nightmare.
Daphne found Gideon’s gaze. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
He inclined his head, and the women left. Margery closed the door behind her.
“My wife is incredibly astute,” Rhys said. “You know, I would marry her all over again if I could.” He turned and strode to the bookshelf, and this time, Gideon saw him pull on a book—likely a fake book—which sprang the secret door open.
Gideon hesitated, and Rhys beckoned him forward. “Come in.”
Following Rhys into the small room, which truly was the size of a closet, Gideon took in the contents—a single, slender bookshelf, a larger chest, and the smaller Nash chest. Overall, the chamber was even smaller than Septon’s secret library.
“This is where I’ll keep the Beckery Texts,” Rhys said. “So you know they will be safe.”
“Thank you.”
Rhys gestured toward the chest. “Do you want to grab that?”
Gideon hefted the box and carried it out into the library, where he set it atop the worktable. His fingers fairly itched to open it up, but he was also absurdly nervous. “I know it isn’t in there,” he said, perhaps unnecessarily.
“Do you want to check?”
Of course he did. Gideon opened the lid and removed every last thing until all that remained was the purple velvet lining. He pressed against the fabric, but it was just the velvet and the box. Frustrated, he swore an oath as he dropped into a chair at the table.
“May I?” Rhys asked, coming to stand beside Gideon’s chair. At Gideon’s nod, he felt around the box and investigated the items sitting around it. “I suppose we should look for a clue. Saying the cloak is in the box could mean the path to the cloak is in the box.” He gave Gideon a wry glance. “That is often how these things work.”
Gideon glanced toward one of the books he’d removed. “The de Valery text already contained a code, but that was to find the Anarawd text. It seems unlikely there would be another in that book.”
“Unlikely, but not impossible.” Rhys’s brow creased. “There’s also the Anarawd text, but I don’t think that would contain clues as to the location of the cloak. The cloak was hidden much later.”
“So maybe it is in the de Valery manuscript?” Gideon asked, his frustration turning to eager curiosity.
Rhys stroked his chin. “Maybe. What is the third book?”
Gideon looked up at him. “You haven’t looked?” The chest had been in his possession for a while.
“I didn’t.” Rhys pulled up a chair and sat down beside him. “These don’t belong to me. I merely kept them safe for you.”
“You are perhaps the most honorable man I know
.” Indeed, Gideon wasn’t sure such honor still existed.
Rhys clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “If you think so, then I must be doing something right.” He smiled, then fetched two pairs of gloves from his desk. “Let’s investigate this book.”
After donning the gloves, Gideon laid his palm across the dark blue cover, as if the text could impart some knowledge without him even opening the tome. Or if it would maybe tingle in his touch like the treasures did. It did not.
He opened the book and was immediately struck by the stunning illumination of the first page.
The Knights of the Round Table
“The condition is absolutely splendid,” Rhys whispered with great reverence.
“How old is it?” Gideon wasn’t an expert like Rhys, but he suspected it was at least four hundred years old.
“I have a suspicion.” He glanced over at Gideon. “May I turn to the last page?”
“Of course.”
Rhys pulled on his gloves and carefully closed the book, then turned it over. He opened the back cover and then flipped to the final page.
The slight sound of his breath drawing in sharply was followed by a smile curling his lips and a light of excitement dancing in his eyes. He lightly touched the corner of the page where a small smudge marred the vellum.
Gideon knew enough to recognize that it wasn’t a smudge. “Is that what I think it is?”
Rhys grinned. “De Valery’s mark. He made a third manuscript. And since the Nash family charged him with making the others with a hidden code that would reveal the location of the Anarawd text, we must consider this manuscript also serves a purpose.”
Gideon’s heart pounded in his ears. “To find the cloak?”
“Perhaps. We must take our time investigating this book. I hope you aren’t in a hurry.”
“I am, but only because I’m anxious to retrieve the heart and the sword from Foliot. The longer he has them, the longer I worry.”
“What are you doing with his daughter?” Rhys shook his head. “I’m sorry. Perhaps it isn’t my business, but I didn’t expect you to marry again—at least not any time soon and certainly not to the daughter of a man as despicable as Foliot.”
“She doesn’t see him that way,” Gideon said a bit defensively. “Much the way I didn’t see my father the way everyone else did.”
“I see. But your eyes were opened eventually.” Rhys’s mouth formed a grim line. “She should understand what kind of man her father really is.”
“And I’m certain she will someday.” Likely soon. “I’m just not certain I’m the one who should tell her.”
“You’re her husband. I would argue there is no one better.”
“Her temporary husband.” Gideon felt the need to point that out.
“Yes, you plan to get an annulment. As I said, that will be difficult.”
“Not under the argument of fraud. We didn’t disclose my prior marriage or provide proof of Rose’s death. Plus, I led her to believe I am the Earl of Stratton.”
Rhys’s brows darted up his forehead as his eyes widened briefly. “You expect Penn to inherit the title.”
“It seems likely.” Gideon could mention Septon’s plan to obtain the proof and liberate the vicar, but until that actually happened, Gideon saw no benefit in bringing it up. There was no need to raise Penn’s hopes, and Rhys would surely tell him about it.
Rhys looked at him intently. “You don’t seem upset.”
If he dwelled on it, he would be, Gideon supposed. “I’ve plenty else to think about right now. Anyway, I can’t control what happens there. Furthermore, I am not the earl—Penn is.”
Rhys winced. “He desperately wants to avoid that.”
“I know,” Gideon said quietly. “And if there’s a way I can help him, I will.”
“Not for you, but for him.” Rhys’s eyes took on a glint of admiration. “You have far more honor than you think.”
That reminded Gideon of what Gwyneth had said. “Do you know what ‘the Worthy’ means?”
Rhys’s brows drew together. “Gareth is sometimes referred to as Gareth the Worthy.”
So it was another piece of his heritage, then. “Gwyneth called me that—the Worthy.”
“Because you’re a descendant?”
“Well, she’s a descendant too,” Gideon said. “I suppose because I told her I plan to take the heart, the sword, and the cloak to Gareth’s tomb to reunite them with the other treasures and keep them hidden forever.”
“Did she tell you where that is?”
“She said she didn’t know.” Gideon wasn’t entirely certain he believed her, but he was even more certain that if she did, he wouldn’t persuade her to tell him if she didn’t want to.
“I would believe her,” Rhys said. “If she seemed to support your endeavor—and it sounds as if she did—then she would have no reason to keep the location from you.” He closed the book once more and flipped it over again. “I think you and I have a book to read.”
Gideon grinned, eager to share this with Rhys. “We do indeed. I think you should fetch the glass.”
“The one that revealed de Valery’s code? Yes, I think I should.” He quickly stood and went to the secret room to obtain the glass. Returning with the item, he sat back down. “Do you plan to share all this, along with whatever we find, with your wife?”
Gideon tried not to wince. “Could you just refer to her as Daphne?” In his mind, his wife was Rose.
“Of course.”
Gideon wasn’t sure how much he would share. He didn’t think she would tell her father the location of the burial, but how could he be certain? Could he really trust her? Should he?
Rhys handed him the glass. “You do the honors. The discovery should be yours.”
“My pleasure.” Gideon took the glass and opened the book.
As the second course arrived on the table, Daphne glanced longingly at the door. Margery had told her at the start that Gideon and Rhys would not be joining them. Instead, they were eating—or not—as they combed through the chest in Rhys’s library.
Daphne couldn’t help but feel left out, just as she knew the chest wasn’t hers to investigate. The fact that she was even here and that Gideon had married her was still more than she could quite comprehend. He could have ridden away from her in Glastonbury—she’d told him to—but instead, he’d come after her. And then made her his wife. Even if it was only temporary, he’d welcomed her along on this journey to find the cloak and reunite the treasures.
That was the core of her unease. They hadn’t discussed the reuniting part, and she suspected it would involve betraying her father. She hoped it didn’t, but that would require her to convince her father that the treasures belonged with Gareth. Surely her father would see the benefit in doing that.
“I used to do that,” Margery said, drawing Daphne from her thoughts.
“Do what?” Daphne glanced toward her hostess, who sat at one end of the table to Daphne’s left, and speared a green bean on her plate.
“Watch for Rhys. When we were first married, I would sit here waiting for him to finish in his library. He gets horribly engrossed in what he’s doing.” She sipped her wine. “I gave up and started taking dinner in there. You may have noticed there’s a small table in the library, away from his precious workspace.”
Now Daphne wondered why they weren’t dining in there right now. Because they hadn’t been invited. Or at least, she hadn’t been invited. Perhaps Margery had.
“They’ll join us when they’re finished. Or frustrated.” Margery grinned. “Or both.” She gave her attention to her plate for a few minutes.
Daphne ate two more beans and another bite of duck, then decided she was finished. Her insides were a bit of a jumble with all that had happened the past few days. She wondered about her father’s reaction to the note she’d sent. She’d apologized for the wound his man had suffered and had explained that she and Gideon had simply wanted to be alone. She’d written the letter
much the same way she’d behaved at Ashridge Court—as if she were terribly in love with Gideon. That ought to please her father enough to lessen any of his anger.
In truth, it wasn’t hard to pretend to have a tendre for Gideon. He was everything she might want in a husband—intelligent, brave, honorable, and caring. That his presence made her heart hammer and his touch caused her skin to tingle was simply an embellishment on an already wonderful package.
Had his wife felt the same way? Surely she had. Daphne wondered at the reason for their marriage, assuming it had taken a far more traditional course than theirs.
Margery pulled Daphne from her thoughts once more. “I met Rhys when I brought him a medieval manuscript to evaluate. I had hoped to sell it to him. My aunts and I were in need of funds.”
“And did you? Sell it to him?” Daphne asked.
“No.” She laughed. “As soon as I found out it might lead to treasure, I kept it for myself.”
Daphne smiled, glad for the distraction from her thoughts. “What sort of treasure?”
“It ended up being just an old manuscript, but it was incredibly valuable to my husband. And to me because it brought us together.”
Was she referring to the Anarawd text? Daphne was dying to ask but didn’t. She truly felt as if she were on the periphery at Hollyhaven. But then she often felt alone and had since her mother had disappeared.
“Just as this quest has brought you and Gideon together,” Margery said softly.
Daphne felt heat climbing her neck and prayed it wouldn’t extend to her face. “Yes, but our union isn’t like that.”
“Yet, but I find things have a way of changing when you least expect them to.”
“Gideon has made it quite clear he is not interested in having another wife.” Daphne cringed as soon as she said it. She was irritated at being left out. “I shouldn’t have said that.”