“It shall be all right, Mr. Bartardi,” she said, her voice strong and soothing. “We are here now.”
Daniel crossed over to the desk and used the flame from the candle to light an oil lamp sitting there.
“Don’t have much time left.” The man’s accented voice was no stronger than a whisper. “Get cushion on the sofa.” He weakly pointed over to the lounge under the window.
Daniel hurried and grabbed the cushion. It was much heavier than it should have been. He turned it over and undid the buttons on the back of the fabric. He pulled out an old, leather-bound journal nestled inside. There were several pieces of loose parchment crammed between the inside pages of it.
“He got first two, but not last one.” Mr. Bartardi’s weak voice shimmered with pride.
Daniel walked back to them and hunched down next to Brianna. He showed her the book. “How long ago did all of this happen?”
“Not certain.” Mr. Bartardi coughed
“You did so well, Mr. Bartardi.” Brianna clutched the man’s hand tightly in her own as her other hand continued pressing her shawl against his wound.
“This journal, the important one,” the old man rasped. “Holds key to treasure.”
“Who stabbed you?” Daniel asked, trying to return the conversation back to the threat instead of the treasure. At least, that way, he could try to get justice for the man.
“Don’t know.” Dread spread across Mr. Bartardi’s face. “But he been looking for journals ever since he killed your parents, Miss Penderley. That what he told me.”
Daniel saw Brianna’s whole body tense.
“Think he thought you dead, too.” Bartardi coughed loudly, his body shuddering with the effort. “He surprised when I mentioned your name. I sorry…”
“Don’t you worry over anything, Mr. Bartardi,” Bree assured him. “I shall be fine.”
Terror shone in the man’s gaze. “Don’t let him find you.” He tried to sit but collapsed back against the rug. Bree pressed her shawl even harder against his wound. “You must keep last journal from him. Mr. Tarboli, from Cosenza, told him.” Bartardi drew in another shaky breath.
“The antiquities dealer there?” Bree asked.
Bartardi managed a small nod. “He only other one, beside Travis, that knew.”
“Travis knew of the treasure?” Bree sounded shocked.
“He read your mother’s journals and copied my translations. Think he wanted to find treasure, too.” The man took in a jagged breath and looked beseechingly up at Brianna. “I am…sorry…”
For a moment it seemed as if the old man tried to say something else, but then he was still.
Daniel had seen enough death to know that Mr. Bartardi was gone.
Bree looked at him, her eyes swimming with tears. “Is he dead?”
Nodding, Daniel stood.
“Poor Mr. Bartardi,” her normally smooth voice choked out. “It is my fault. I never should have brought the journals to him. I should have learned Italian. Then I could have read them myself, instead of being so stubborn.”
Daniel pulled her to her feet and looked her straight in the eyes. “It is not your fault, and blaming yourself will help no one.”
She bit her bottom lip. “And now Travis has gone off in search of the treasure and gotten himself kidnapped in the process.”
He brushed his thumb across a tear that was running down her cheek. He’d never seen Miss Penderley upset and crying before. He didn’t like it at all. He had to fight the sudden irresistible urge to haul her into his arms and comfort her. But then he remembered this was Brianna, and she’d likely kick him.
The sound of some carriages pulling up at the front had him going swiftly to the office door. “Is there a back entrance?”
“Yes,” Bree confirmed, swiping the back of her hand across the tears on her face.
Daniel stepped out of the office for a moment and peered around the clutter until he could see the windows at the front of the shop. There were some men in uniforms, clambering off their horses. “Damn it!”
“What now?” Bree asked from behind him.
He spun around to face her. “Men in uniform, possibly the carabinieri.”
She stared at him blankly.
“The Carabinieri Corps is a special police force here, with military status,” he explained. “We need to go now.”
“Why? Can they not help?”
“I doubt it, and if it is the carabinieri, they will want to question us for hours as possible murder suspects.” He grabbed her arm and guided her out the door. “Where is the back exit?”
“This way,” Bree said as she led him across the rear of the shop and down a corridor he could barely squeeze through. “Why would the carabinieri be here?” she whispered, pushing open a hidden door built unobtrusively into the wood-paneled wall. It revealed a set of curving stairs leading downwards into the pitch blackness.
“A very good question.” Daniel stopped and peered down into the abyss. “Are you certain this leads to an exit?” he asked, unable to hide the doubt in his tone.
“Of course it does. You simply must learn to trust me.” She motioned him in behind her, grabbed an old wooden torch from the wall, and held it toward him. “Can you light another matchstick?” she asked as she closed the door, plunging the entire space into darkness.
He pulled out the tin and did as requested. The small flame bloomed into existence, and he used it to light the material wrapped across the top of the torch. It flared to life, casting enough light so that they could see a few stairs ahead.
Bree began descending. He followed her, the staircase curving down to the depths of the building.
“It leads to an entrance on the other road, a level down from the front of the store,” Bree explained. “Mr. Bartardi loved his secret escape, or secret entry, depending on what he was doing.” Her voice sounded sad.
“I’m sorry about Mr. Bartardi,” Daniel said.
“So am I,” Bree said, her skirt billowing behind her as she padded down the stone steps. “He didn’t deserve to die that way, and he particularly didn’t deserve to die for helping me.” Her voice cracked a little on the last word.
They came to the bottom of the stairwell, where a wooden door was built into the stone wall. He leaned over and twisted the knob. “It’s locked.”
“Well, of course it is,” Brianna replied. She leant across him, her arm briefly brushing his as she reached toward a brick.
He inhaled the scent of roses and lavender clinging softly to the nape of her neck. The smell was intoxicating, and for a mad instant, he felt like burying his head and nuzzling the soft skin of her throat. He stiffened. What the devil was happening to him?
Miss Penderley was the bane of his existence, not someone he was attracted to. Of course she was a beautiful woman. He’d have to have been dead not to notice that. But he’d never allowed himself to truly notice it previously, and he certainly had never thought to act on the impulse before. Because acting on a passionate impulse was the sort of behavior his father had continually indulged in, leading to Daniel’s mother’s demise and the very near ruination of the entire earldom.
It was the sort of behavior Daniel could not afford to indulge in and risk placing his family and all of the good people working on his estates in jeopardy, as his father had.
She tugged the brick free. Daniel made a determined effort to bring his thoughts back to the matter at hand. He looked at the brick and saw that inside it was hollow and contained a key.
He narrowed his gaze upon her. “How did you know that was kept there?”
“Travis and I helped Mr. Bartardi a few weeks back. We were smuggling in some of the antiquities I had picked up in Rome, which I wanted Mr. Bartardi’s expert opinion on.” She glanced up at him and frowned. “Oh do not look at me in that fashion.”
“What fashion is that?” He took the key from her and inserted it into the old lock.
“Like you think I was involved in something nefari
ous,” she replied. “It was all very legitimate, I shall have you know. We simply didn’t want any other dealers to know about our find. They can be a very unscrupulous lot, if you hadn’t already gathered.”
“I gathered.” Daniel twisted the key in the lock and careful pushed open the door. He peered out into the deserted street. “Looks clear. Come, the carriage should still be around the corner where we told them to wait. I need to get you home and work out what the devil we’re going to do.”
Chapter Seven
“Oh, thank goodness, you are safe!” her Aunt Edith cried as Brianna and Daniel stepped into the foyer, having just arrived back from Mr. Bartardi’s shop.
The woman jumped up from where she was sitting next to Milly on the foyer settee and rushed over to Brianna, wrapping her arms tightly around her niece.
“I am fine, Aunt Edith,” Bree said, returning the embrace and then gently disentangling herself from her aunt’s grip but not her worried, hazel gaze. “Truly, I am.”
“I was so distressed when we got home and Orsini told me your room had been ransacked and you’d raced off somewhere with a gentleman.” Her aunt stepped back and looked across to Daniel. “But luckily, I got your message, Thornton, and knew you were the one accompanying her home. Though, honestly, I did not know what to think after hearing you had both arrived, only to then leave shortly thereafter.”
The woman darted over to Daniel and wrapped her arms around his chest, her tiny frame dwarfed by his. “But I knew she would be safe if she was with you. As always, thank you for bringing our Brianna safely back to us. Did my dear husband send you?”
“Yes, Sir Walter did.”
“Oh thank goodness,” her aunt all but gushed.
Brianna pressed her lips together, knowing that Aunt Edith meant well, even if her words were inadvertently critical. Honestly, her aunt made it sound as if Brianna was forever in need of rescuing, which was certainly not the case.
Daniel was obviously used to the unconventional display of affection, having been on the receiving end of her aunt’s gratitude many times over the years.
Normally, Aunt Edith would be mortified to be caught hugging an earl, but Daniel was the exception. She often said she considered him to be part of the family after all the times he’d supposedly saved Bree.
A complete misapprehension, of course, but one that her whole family seemed to be under. It all stemmed from when she was twelve and he’d caught her from falling overboard from a barge into the Thames River. True, she hadn’t been paying attention at the time, and he had saved her from a dip in the water, but she could’ve simply swum to the bank and saved herself if she had fallen in. But her family didn’t even consider that aspect. No. As far as they were concerned, Daniel had saved her life, and whenever he was around, it obviously was because he had saved her in some fashion again. Goodness, families could be annoying.
The thought of her family drew her mind straight to Travis and the dire situation he was in. How was she going to break the news to them?
“What is wrong, my dear?” Aunt Edith had obviously noticed her distress.
Bree felt like hanging her head in shame. How could she tell them that Travis had been taken, and worse, that it was all her fault? She felt sick to her stomach. “Perhaps you had best sit down. Both of you, actually.”
Her aunt regarded her for a moment, a line etched between her pale brows. “Brianna Penderley, do stop being so dramatic, and simply tell us what the issue is.” Her aunt looked a great deal taller than her tiny five feet three inches, standing as she was in her deep sapphire blue evening gown. Her back was ramrod straight, and Bree was certain that Aunt Edith could comfortably balance several books atop her chignon without dislodging a single golden strand.
Aunt Edith was, as usual, impeccable in her manners, dress, and bearing. Goodness, Bree hoped that would hold with the news she was about to deliver.
“Yes, Bree,” Milly chimed in. “What is going on?”
Bree chewed on her bottom lip. “Aunt Edith. Milly.” She glanced between the two of them and braced herself. “Travis has been kidnapped.”
Milly’s already porcelain skin drained of any color, but surprisingly, Aunt Edith squared her shoulders. Her expression could only be described as that of a major general about to go into battle.
“I think, perhaps, you had best explain exactly what has happened,” her aunt directed them.
Bree listened as Daniel outlined the events of the evening, leading up to Orsini handing her the letter. She was grateful when he omitted the part about how she had actually exited down the wall of the villa. Her aunt had enough to worry about without adding to the list.
“Now why does the name Garendetta sound familiar?” her aunt pondered. “In any event, how dangerous is this group that has him?”
Daniel explained the group’s mafia connection in broad terms. “They will kill him if they don’t get the journals.”
Now, her aunt’s face blanched.
“But we will not let that happen.” Bree rushed over to her and helped her over to the sofa. “I’m so sorry, Aunt Edith.”
“It’s not your fault, my dear.” She patted Bree’s hand as she wearily sank onto the seat. Milly followed closely behind, practically collapsing down next to her mother.
Bree’s stomach knotted as she stood in front of them. “It is my fault.”
Her aunt shook her head. “He is a Penderley, my dear, and it seems that apart from Amelia, adventuring runs in the blood. It is certainly not your fault that Travis has been kidnapped.”
“If I had not asked Travis to assist poor Mr. Bartardi in translating my mother’s journals,” Brianna began, “he would never have found out about the infernal treasure and gone off searching for it.”
Edith sat up straight as if struck by an idea. “It is your mother’s journals they are after?”
“Yes.”
“Then it is the lost treasure of King Aleric they are seeking?”
Daniel quirked a brow. “You know of the treasure?”
“Only what Walter told me all those years ago.” Aunt Edith buried her head in her hands for a moment before looking back up at him. “And now I know why the name Garendetta was familiar.” A look of fear washed over her face as she turned to Brianna. “I am afraid that the treasure was the catalyst for your parent’s murders and that the authorities blamed the Garendetta for their deaths. Though Walter always discounted that theory.”
Brianna rubbed her palms together, feeling very lightheaded all of a sudden.
“I know how you dislike anyone talking about their deaths,” her aunt continued on. “But—”
A cold shard of terror struck at her very heart at the mention of it. Brianna could see her aunt’s mouth moving, but she couldn’t hear any of the words she was saying.
Blackness danced at the edge of her vision. She could hear a baby’s agonizing screams and a soft angelic voice saying that she was so sorry. The nightmare was back, and this time, she wasn’t even asleep. Beautiful brown eyes brimming with tears shimmered across her gaze, before the icy hand of death snatched those eyes away forever.
Brianna couldn’t stand it. She closed her eyes and wrenched her hands up to her ears, trying to stop the screaming. She could feel the baby’s pain. The heartache. The loss. She could see blood everywhere. Bright crimson rivulets of it trickling into a pool on the floor.
She could feel her own death only a heartbeat away.
“Brianna, it is all right.” A deep voice penetrated through the haze of horrid memories. “You are safe. I am right here.”
Slowly, she became aware of strong hands gently gripping her shoulders. She blinked open her eyes and took in a shallow breath of air. A bright green gaze stared into her own, an expression of concern evident.
Daniel.
Suddenly, an overwhelming sense of relief coursed through her. His presence meant she was safe. Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around his neck and collapsed against him.
&n
bsp; His arms encased her and held her tightly.
She breathed in the sandalwood and leather scent of him, which felt so comforting and familiar to her. Gradually, her breathing returned to normal, and the lightheaded sensation disappeared. She began to remember where she was and who she was clinging to.
Oh goodness. Mortification burned through her. She pushed away from his arms and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at her total lack of composure. He must think her a complete and utter fool.
But that was exactly what she felt like. What had come over her? She felt like slinking away and never showing her face when he was near ever again. Instead, she squared her shoulders and tilted her head up at him.
Rather than the ridicule she expected to see in his expression, there was concern. For some reason, that was even worse.
She averted her gaze and focused on her aunt and Milly, who were now standing on either side of the earl, both wringing their hands in apparent worry.
“Darling, are you well?” her aunt asked, soothing back a lock of Bree’s wayward hair.
Brianna didn’t know what had come over her. Over the years, she had always hated her parents’ deaths being talked about, so much so that she had refused to be present if anyone dared speak of it. But never had her nightmares confronted her whilst she was awake before, nor had she felt the toddler’s pain so keenly or heard the woman’s words of apology.
“I am fine.” She took a shaky step away from them all. “I am sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” She mentally shook away the images and focused on the present.
“You did see a man die tonight,” Daniel gently reminded her.
Milly and her aunt both gasped.
“Who is dead?” Milly asked.
“Mr. Bartardi, I am afraid,” Brianna replied, recounting what had happened when they reached the man’s shop.
“It is no wonder you are so distraught then, my dear,” Edith said. “Seeing death up close is difficult for anyone to bear.”
Brianna grimaced. She didn’t like to think she had been distraught, especially not in front of Daniel.
The Elusive Earl (Saints & Scoundrels) Page 6