by Amanda Quick
“About time you showed up.” Magnus, Earl of Flamecrest, beetled his brows. “I was beginning to think your new acquaintance was going to keep you talking for the better part of the night.”
“Wingfield is very fond of conversation.”
Thaddeus hoisted the lantern higher. “Well, lad? What did ye learn?”
Jared was thirty-four years old. He had not considered himself a lad for many years. In fact, he often felt aeons older than anyone else in the family. But there was no point correcting Thaddeus.
“Wingfield believes he has found Claire Lightbourne’s diary,” Jared said calmly.
“Bloody hell.” The satisfaction in Magnus’s face was plain to read in the glow of the lantern. “So it’s true, then. The diary has finally been found after all these years.”
“Damme,” Thaddeus exclaimed. “How the devil did Wingfield get to it first?”
“I believe it was his niece who actually located the volume,” Jared said. “You will notice it was found here in France. My cousins were obviously wasting their efforts two months ago when they went chasing off into the hills of Spain to look for it.”
“Now, Jared,” Magnus said soothingly, “Young Charles and William had good reason to believe it had been taken there during the war. You’re just a mite annoyed with your cousins because they got themselves captured by those damn bandits.”
“The entire affair was something of a nuisance,” Jared allowed grimly. “Furthermore, it cost me nearly two thousand pounds in ransom money, not to mention a great deal of time and effort spent away from my business affairs.”
“Damnation, son,” Magnus roared. “Is that all you can ever think about? Your business affairs? You’ve got the blood of buccaneers in your veins, by God, but you’ve got the heart and soul of a tradesman.”
“I’m well aware that I’m something of a disappointment to you and the rest of the family, sir.” Jared leaned on the stone wall that fronted the harbor. “But as we’ve discussed the matter on several previous occasions, I do not think we need go into it again tonight.”
“He’s right, Magnus,” Thaddeus said quickly. “Got more important things to deal with at the moment. The diary is practically in our grasp. I say we have at it.”
Jared arched one brow. “Which of you made an effort to have at it last night? Wingfield says his room was searched.”
“It was worth a try,” Thaddeus said, unabashed.
Magnus nodded. “Just took a look around, that’s all.”
Jared bit back an exasperated oath. “The diary has been stowed on board the Sea Flame since yesterday afternoon. We’d have to unload the whole damn ship to get at it.”
“Pity,” Thaddeus muttered, defeated.
“In any event,” Jared continued, “the diary belongs to Miss Olympia Wingfield of Meadow Stream Cottage in Dorset. She has bought and paid for it.”
“Bah, the diary is ours,” Magnus said stoutly. “It’s a family heirloom. I say she has no right to it.”
“You appear to have forgotten that even if we get our hands on it, we shall very likely not be able to decipher it. However … ” Jared paused just long enough to get his father’s and uncle’s full attention.
“Yes?” Magnus asked eagerly.
“Artemis Wingfield feels certain that his niece will be able to unravel the code in which the diary is written,” Jared said. “Apparently Miss Wingfield excels at that sort of thing.”
Thaddeus brightened immediately. “I say, lad, your course of action is clear, then, ain’t it? You’ll have to follow the diary to its destination and then proceed to insinuate yourself into Miss Wingfield’s good graces so that she’ll tell you all she learns.”
“Brilliant notion.” Magnus’s whiskers jerked in excitement. “Charm her, son. Seduce her. When she melts in your hands, get her to tell ye everything she learns from the diary. Then we’ll snaffle it away from her.”
Jared sighed. It was difficult being the only sane, sensible soul in a family filled with eccentrics and Originals.
The search for the Lightbourne diary had preoccupied all the Flamecrest males except Jared for three generations. Jared’s father, uncle, and cousins had all pursued it at one time or another. So had his grandfather and his great-uncles. The lure of treasure had a truly mesmerizing effect on a clan descended from a genuine buccaneer.
But enough was enough. A few weeks earlier his cousins had very nearly gotten themselves killed because of the diary. Jared had decided it was time to end the nonsense once and for all. Unfortunately, the only way to put a stop to the matter was to recover the diary and see if it did indeed contain the secret of the missing treasure.
No one had argued when Jared had announced that it was his turn to pursue the mysterious fortune that had vanished nearly a hundred years earlier. In truth everyone, his father especially, was only too pleased to see Jared show some interest in the matter.
Jared knew he was considered useful to the family because of his talent for business. But that did not account for much in a family famed for its dashing, hot-blooded men.
His relatives considered Jared depressingly dull. They said he lacked the Flamecrest fire. He, in turn, considered that they lacked self-restraint and common sense. It had not escaped his notice that they were quick enough to come to him when there was a problem or when they needed money.
Jared had been putting matters right and attending to the boring little details of life for the Flamecrest clan since he was nineteen. Everyone in the family agreed it was the one thing at which he excelled.
It seemed to Jared that he was forever rescuing one member of the family or another.
Sometimes, when he sat up late at night making notes in his appointment journal, he wondered fleetingly if someone would ever come along to rescue him.
“It’s all very well for you two to talk about charm and seduction,” Jared said, “but we all know that I did not inherit the Flamecrest talent for either.”
“Bah.” Magnus waved that aside with a sweeping motion of his hand. “The problem is that you’ve never applied yourself to the matter.”
An expression of grave concern crossed Thaddeus’s face. “Well, now, Magnus, I wouldn’t go so far as to say he ain’t tried his hand at that sort of thing. There was that unfortunate situation three years ago when the lad tried to woo himself a wife.”
Jared looked at his uncle. “I think we can dispense with a discussion of that subject. I do not intend to seduce Miss Wingfield or anyone else into telling me the secret of the diary.”
Thaddeus scowled. “How will ye go about worming it out o’ her, then, lad?”
“I shall offer to purchase the information,” Jared said.
“Purchase it.” Magnus looked shocked. “Ye think ye can buy a legendary secret like that with mere money?”
“It has been my experience that one can purchase almost anything,” Jared said. “A straightforward, businesslike approach works wonders in virtually every conceivable situation.”
“Lad, lad, what are we going to do with you?” Thaddeus moaned.
“You are going to let me handle this my way,” Jared said. “Now then, let us understand each other. I will pursue the diary. In the meantime, I want your word that you will remember our agreement.”
“What agreement?” Magnus asked blankly.
Jared’s jaw tightened. “While I’m engaged in this undertaking you are not to interfere in any way in Flamecrest business matters.”
“Bloody hell, son, Thaddeus and I were running the family business before you were even born.”
“Yes, sir, I know. The two of you ran it straight into the ground.”
Magnus’s mustache jumped in outrage. “Not our fault we had a bit of a bad spell there. Business was poor during those years.”
Jared wisely decided not to pursue the point. They all knew that the earl’s lack of business sense coupled with the equally poor abilities of his brother, Thaddeus, had combined to destroy what little was le
ft of the Flamecrest family fortune.
It was Jared who had taken over at the age of nineteen, barely in time to salvage the one decrepit ship that the family had still owned. He had pawned his mother’s necklace to raise the money he had needed. No one in the family had ever really forgiven him for his shocking want of sentiment, including his mother. She had actually mentioned the matter for the last time on her deathbed two years ago. Jared had been too grief-stricken to remind her that she had enjoyed the fruits of the new Flamecrest fortune to the hilt, as had everyone else in the clan.
Jared had rebuilt the Flamecrest empire from that one ship. He sincerely hoped he would not have to repeat the feat when he returned from this crazed venture.
“Hard to believe that at long last the missing Flamecrest fortune is nearly within our grasp.” Thaddeus squeezed his hand into a triumphant fist.
“We already possess a fortune,” Jared pointed out. “We do not need the stolen treasure Captain Jack and his partner Edward Yorke buried on that damn island nearly a hundred years ago.”
“It was not stolen treasure,” Magnus thundered.
“If you will recall, sir, Great-grandfather was a pirate while he lived in the West Indies.” Jared’s brow rose. “It’s highly unlikely that he and Yorke came by that treasure in an honest fashion.”
“Captain Jack was not a pirate,” Thaddeus said fiercely. “He was a loyal Englishman who sailed under a commission. That treasure was lawful spoils taken off a Spanish vessel, by God.”
“It would be interesting to hear the Spaniards’ version of the story,” Jared remarked.
“Bah.” Magnus glowered at him. “They’re to blame for this situation. If the blasted Spaniards hadn’t given chase, Captain Jack and Yorke wouldn’t have been obliged to bury the booty on that damned island and we wouldn’t be standin’ here tonight workin’ out a way to get it back.”
“Yes, sir,” Jared said wearily. He had heard this many times before. It never failed to bore him.
“The only real pirate around was Edward Yorke,” Magnus continued. “That lying, cheating, murderous knave who betrayed your great-grandfather to the Spanish. It was only by the grace of God that Captain Jack managed to escape the trap.”
“It all happened nearly a hundred years ago. We do not know for certain that Yorke betrayed Captain Jack,” Jared said quietly. “In any event, it really does not matter much now.”
“Of course it matters,” Magnus snapped. “You follow in a proud tradition, my boy. It’s your duty to find that missing treasure. It belongs to us and we have every right to claim it.”
“After all,” Thaddeus said gravely, “you are the new Guardian, lad.”
“Bloody hell,” Jared said under his breath. “That is a lot of nonsense and you know it.”
“T’ ain’t nonsense,” Thaddeus insisted. “You won the right to the title years ago, the night you used Captain Jack’s own dagger to save your cousins from that smuggler. Have ye forgotten?”
“I’m hardly likely to forget the incident, as it cost me an eye, sir,” Jared muttered. He did not, however, want to get into an argument over yet another idiotic family legend. He had his hands full dealing with the old tale of buried treasure.
“No gettin’ around the fact that you’re the new Guardian,” Magnus said with a sage expression. “You blooded the dagger. Furthermore, you’re the spittin’ image of Captain Jack, himself, as a young man.”
“Enough.” Jared removed his watch from his pocket and held it close to the lantern so that he could read the face. “It’s late and I must rise early tomorrow.”
“You and that bloody watch of yours,” Thaddeus grumbled. “I’ll wager you’ve got your appointment journal with ye, too.”
“Of course,” Jared assured him coolly. “You know I depend upon it.”
His watch and his appointment journal were the two things he valued most in his daily life, Jared thought. For years they had provided him with a means of establishing order and routine in a world often made chaotic and unstable by his wild, unpredictable family.
“I cannot believe it” Magnus shook his head in sorrow. “Here ye be about to sail off in search of the secret to a grand treasure and you’re consulting your watch and checkin’ your appointment journal like a dull man o’ business.”
“I am a dull man of business, sir,” Jared said.
“It’s enough to make a father weep,” Magnus growled.
“Try to show some of the Flamecrest fire, lad,” Thaddeus urged.
“We’re on the brink of recovering our lost heritage, son.” Magnus gripped the edge of the quay wall and gazed out at the night-darkened sea, the very image of a man who can see beyond the horizon. “I can feel it in me bones. After all these years the Flamecrest treasure is almost within our grasp. And you have the great honor of recovering it for the family.”
“I assure you, sir,” Jared said politely, “my excitement at the prospect knows no bounds.”
Chapter 1
“I have another book which you might also find very interesting, Mr. Draycott.” Olympia Wingfield balanced one slippered foot on the library ladder, wedged her other toe onto the edge of a shelf, and reached out to pluck a volume from the top of the bookcase. “This one also contains some fascinating information on the legend of the Island of Gold. And I think there is still another one you should examine.”
“Have a care, I beg you, Miss Wingfield.” Reginald Draycott gripped the sides of the ladder to steady it. He gazed up at Olympia as she leaned out to fetch another book from a high shelf. “You will surely fall if you do not watch yourself.”
“Nonsense. I promise you I am quite accustomed to this sort of thing. Now, then, I used this particular work when I wrote my last paper for the quarterly journal of the Society for Travel and Exploration. It’s extremely useful because it contains notes on the unusual customs of the inhabitants of certain South Seas islands.”
“Kind of you to loan it to me, Miss Wingfield, but I am really growing very concerned about your position on this ladder.”
“Do not fret, sir.” Olympia glanced down at Draycott with a reassuring smile and saw that he had an extremely odd expression on his face. His pale weak eyes had a glazed look and his mouth was hanging open.
“Are you feeling ill, Mr. Draycott?”
“No, no, not at all, my dear.” Draycott licked his lips and continued to stare.
“You’re quite certain? You look as though you might be nauseous. I shall be glad to fetch these books at another time.”
“I wouldn’t hear of waiting another day. I vow, I am quite well. In any event you have whetted my appetite for every scrap of information on the legend of the Island of Gold, my dear. I could not bring myself to leave here without more material to study.”
“Well, then, if you’re quite certain. Now, this volume relates some fascinating customs of the legendary Island of Gold. I, myself, have always been fascinated by the customs and habits of other lands.”
“Have you, indeed?”
“Oh, yes. As a woman of the world, I find such matters quite stimulating. The wedding night rituals of the inhabitants of the Island of Gold are particularly interesting.” Olympia flipped several pages in the old book and then chanced to glance down at Draycott’s face again.
Something was definitely amiss, she thought. Draycott’s expression was beginning to make her a trifle uneasy. His eyes were not meeting hers; rather they appeared to be fixed somewhat lower.
“Wedding night rituals, did you say, Miss Wingfield?”
“Yes. Very unusual customs.” Olympia frowned in concentration. “Apparently the groom presents the bride with a large gold object shaped rather like a phallus.”
“A phallus, did you say, Miss Wingfield?” Draycott sounded as if someone were throttling him.
It finally struck Olympia quite forcibly that in his present position at the foot of the ladder Draycott had an excellent view straight up under her skirts.
“G
ood heavens.” Olympia lost her balance and grabbed the top rung of the ladder. One of the books that she had been holding fell to the carpet.
“Is something wrong, my dear?” Draycott asked quickly.
Mortified by the realization that she was exposing a great deal of her stocking-clad legs to his unimpeded gaze, Olympia turned very warm.
“Nothing’s wrong, Mr. Draycott. I have found the volumes I wanted. I’m coming down now. You may step aside.”
“Allow me to assist you.” Draycott’s soft, pudgy hands brushed against the calves of Olympia’s legs beneath her muslin skirts.
“No, please. That’s quite all right,” Olympia gasped. She had never before experienced the feel of a man’s hands on her legs. Draycott’s touch sent a chill of alarm through her.
She tried to climb back up the ladder to escape Draycott’s hands. His fingers closed around her ankle before she could get out of reach.
Olympia tried and failed to jerk her leg free. Embarrassment turned to annoyance. “If you will just get out of my way, Mr. Draycott, I shall be able to climb down safely.”
“I cannot let you risk a fall.” Draycott’s fingers slipped higher up her leg and squeezed.
“I do not need any assistance.” Another of the books Olympia had been holding slipped out of her arms and fell to the carpet with a thud. “Kindly let go of my ankle, sir.”
“I am only trying to help you, my dear.”
Olympia was outraged now. She had known Reginald Draycott for years. She could not believe that he would not do as she asked. She kicked out wildly. Her foot struck Draycott on the shoulder.
“Umph.” Draycott staggered backward a step. He gave Olympia an injured look.
Olympia paid no attention to the accusation in his eyes. She scrambled down the ladder in a flurry of muslin. She could feel her hair coming free of the knot in which she had secured it. Her white muslin cap was askew.
When the toe of her slipper touched the carpet, Draycott’s hands closed around her waist from behind.
“My dearest Olympia, I cannot hold back my feelings any longer.”