by Robyn DeHart
Esme had already accepted an invitation for all of them to attend a dinner party at the abbey that very evening. So it was that Graeme and Vanessa, along with the rest of his family, stood at the man’s door and waited for entrance.
“Oh, come in, come in,” the American said at the opened door.
Vanessa stepped into the abbey right in front of Graeme, his hand at the small of her back. The warmth of his hand seared her skin beneath her gown, reminding her what it felt like to have those hands touch her most intimately. Heat spread through her body and flamed in her cheeks. This was no doubt why most women were content to stay at home and drink tea and gossip. Passion and desire had a way of melting your thoughts right out of your head.
“A duke and a duchess,” the American man said. “I’m such a goose I don’t even know how to address you.”
“ ‘Your Grace’ is the proper salutation,” Esme said. She stood slightly behind their host, a lovely smile upon her face. Fielding kept her close to his side with an arm snug about her waist.
“But there is no need for such formalities,” Graeme said. “You may simply call us by our given names, Graeme and Vanessa.”
“And I am George Randolph,” the man said. “Welcome to my castle.”
It was on Vanessa’s tongue to correct the man. This was an abbey and not a castle, but she was still contemplating what Randolph had said. A duke and a duchess?
“You’re a duke?” she whispered to Graeme. “And you never thought to bring that to my attention?”
He guided her forward with his hand, grinning. “I thought I had told you.”
She turned to face him. “I’m fairly certain we never had a conversation involving my being a duchess.” Then it hit her; that was why he called her so. It was not a term of affection as she’d thought, but simply the truth. She swiveled herself back toward the rest of the party, putting her back to her husband. Wouldn’t her mother absolutely love this? But she probably already knew. Hadn’t Graeme sent an announcement to her family and the newspapers? It was possible everyone in London knew before she did. She felt an utter fool.
“This must be your sister.” Randolph stepped up and took Moira’s hand in his. “Enchanté, Mademoiselle.” He bent low over her hand, brushing it with his lips.
Vanessa couldn’t help but be amused by the American’s weak attempt at flirting. Although she was hesitant to group their host with Jeremy, she briefly wondered if all American men were fools when it came to women.
Moira smiled prettily. “His mother, actually.” She looked around the foyer. “You’ve done truly amazing work with this place,” she said.
“You’ve been here before?” Randolph’s eyes lit with excitement.
“Aye. We used to play here as children,” Moira said. “I live just across the loch from here.”
He linked his arm with hers and led her forward. “You must tell me all about it. Everything. I did my best to match what had been here before, based on journals and drawings.”
“Fielding, Esme,” Graeme said as he came forward. “How charming of you to organize such a gathering.”
Fielding smiled broadly. “Esme does have a knack for making friends wherever she goes.” He playfully jabbed his elbow into Esme’s arm. “She and Mr. Randolph chatted nearly the entire duration of the train ride.”
Graeme chuckled. “This is Vanessa,” he said.
“Your wife,” Esme said with a huge smile. “It’s truly a pleasure,” she said as she gave Vanessa a tight squeeze.
Together they walked farther into the foyer.
Vanessa’s breath caught as she took in the ceiling overhead. It was a perfect rendition of a fresco painting. Bold colors accented the Biblical scenes. One in particular drew Vanessa’s eye. Adam and Eve stood in front of a massive tree, the green limbs spreading far across the ceiling. In Eve’s hand, she held a piece of fruit so ripe, so irresistibly red, Vanessa was certain that if she reached out, she’d be able to claim it.
It was a not-so-gentle reminder of her own life at the moment. She was finally in a position to do her research freely, and instead, she faced the distracting temptation of her new husband. She took her eyes away from the painting to glance at him. She realized with sudden clarity that he looked very much a duke tonight with his black coat and black trousers, a high sheen on his black boots and the white of his shirt at his throat.
She’d thought that she’d married a simple Scotsman with a penchant for adventure, but looking at him now, she realized she didn’t know him very well at all.
His long hair had been tied at the nape of his neck, pulling it away from his handsome face. Long lashes framed his startling green eyes, and although she knew he’d shaved earlier today, stubble lined his cheeks and jaw, giving him a somewhat dangerous look.
This was not deceptive: He was dangerous. One touch and he made her forget everything, everything she thought she’d wanted. He made her doubt this woman she’d fought very hard to become.
“The fresco is magnificent,” Vanessa said, trying to distract herself, trying to rein in her thoughts.
“Ah yes, that was not original to the abbey,” Randolph said. “But I couldn’t resist. Let us convene in the dining room.”
They all followed his lead. Graeme stepped closer to Fielding, and the two men spoke quietly. Vanessa was certain Graeme had decided to tell Fielding about the men who had died by The Raven’s hands, not to mention the stones he now possessed. The man was getting dangerously close to the Kingmaker.
“You look very pretty tonight,” Esme told Vanessa.
“Thank you,” Vanessa said. “This dress was to be part of my trousseau, the dress my mother had intended I wear when I hosted my first dinner party.”
“Well, it’s lovely,” Esme said. Vanessa wondered what Graeme had told his friends of his sudden nuptials.
They gathered around a large table, hand carved out of mahogany. It sat in the middle of an ornate dining room, accented with another painted ceiling, this one highlighted with gold paint and cherubs. If Vanessa had to guess, she’d wager that painting was also not a replica of an original, but rather for Mr. Randolph’s own enjoyment. Clearly the man loved opulence.
The wall opposite Vanessa’s dinner seat was nearly completely covered by what appeared to be an ancient tapestry. Beautiful and elegant, the woven picture depicted this very building as it had once been, as a family’s keep jutting high out on the hills. Before they left, she definitely wanted to take a closer look.
Graeme watched their host fall all over himself trying to impress Graeme’s mother. And if Graeme wasn’t mistaken, she was flirting in return. He’d never seen his mother happy with any man, as his parents had separated shortly after his birth. The only interaction he’d seen them have was to argue mercilessly.
On his other side, Dougal sat quiet and surly, his young features marked by a constant scowl.
Graeme had been to this abbey nine years earlier, before this man had refurbished it to its former glory. But Graeme knew what lay beneath—a deep chasm and a secret chamber filled with treasures. He couldn’t help but wonder if Randolph had ever discovered the secret lift that led down to it. But he most definitely was not going to ask.
• • •
They all arrived home nearly four hours later. Vanessa and Moira had already excused themselves. Graeme grabbed Dougal to stop him from leaving the room. “What the hell is wrong with you lately?”
Dougal jerked his arm free. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, but never glanced at Graeme’s face.
“You can’t even look at me. You’re nervous around my wife. You barely look at her, and when you do, you glare. You stay out all the time. You talk back to Mother.” Graeme shook his head. “None of this is like you. I know something’s wrong.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Dougal finally met Graeme’s gaze, and for the first time Graeme realized how much his brother physically resembled their father. The same height, although Dougal s
till had the thin and narrow body of a boy not yet a man, and the same light brown hair, the same brown eyes. “I’m a man of my own now,” Dougal said. “What I do, it’s no concern of yours.”
Graeme nearly argued, but Dougal was right to an extent. At least, he believed he was right, and Graeme remembered feeling the same way once upon a time. He’d had this argument, or one very similar, with their father. And it hadn’t gone well.
Graeme had two options. He could force the boy to talk and risk losing him forever, or he could allow him to continue down whatever road he’d chosen and more than likely get himself into trouble. Especially if he’d involved himself with The Raven.
“You don’t know that man,” Graeme said slowly. “The kind of danger you could get yourself into with him.”
Dougal’s eyes widened with brief surprise, then narrowed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Perhaps not, but I know what I see. And I know more about the aristocratic world you’re so bloody interested in. Those English men, regardless of what they’ve told you, sure as hell won’t keep any promises they might have made.”
“What do you know of promises?” Dougal tossed back, his eyes burning with anger.
Just then Vanessa came in. “Graeme, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have something most important to discuss with you.”
Graeme turned to his wife. “Can it wait?”
She shook her head. “I think you’ll want to know this straightaway.”
He nodded, then turned back to Dougal. “We’re not finished with this.” In that moment, he caught sight of Dougal’s expression toward Vanessa. His jaw fixed in a tight line, and his eyes widened with something that looked like fear.
“We’re finished,” Dougal bit out, then slid from the room.
“I’m sorry,” Vanessa said.
“I’m not.” Graeme yanked the tie from the back of his hair and shook it free. He took a deep breath, then swore. “I think my brother is the one who shot you.”
“What?” Vanessa asked. “Certainly you’re mistaken, Graeme?”
“No, I’ve looked at this from every angle, and it has to be him.”
“What about The Raven?” she asked.
“No,” Graeme said. “If The Raven had held that gun, he wouldn’t have missed.”
She released a shaky breath. “But why? Why would Dougal want to kill me?”
Graeme shook his head. “That I don’t know. I think he’s gotten himself somehow involved with The Raven.” He came and sat next to her, and though he put his arm behind her on the settee, he did not touch her. “What was so important that you wanted to discuss with me?”
“The Stone of Destiny. I think I found another clue,” she said.
He frowned and shook his head. “Where?”
“There was a tapestry in the abbey I noticed during dinner. Randolph said he’d purchased it from a family in London but it was one of the original pieces that belonged in the abbey. I noticed it because it was beautiful, so large and lush and full of detail. It had an image of the stone structure itself, off in the distance, but a closer image of a knight hiding what appeared to be a large stone.”
“That could be anything,” Graeme said with a shake of his head. His brow still furrowed, no doubt concerned about the fact that his brother obviously wanted her dead.
“True, but it could be something, another clue. We should investigate it further.”
“Yes, but I need to confront Dougal first.” He turned to leave the room.
She put her hand on his arm and met his gaze. “He’s not going to talk to you right now. Especially now that you’re both angry,” she said.
He exhaled slowly, then cursed again. “You’re probably right. But damn. My own brother.”
“Dougal is merely upset because I’m taking time away from him. Time he normally spends with you,” she offered.
He clasped her hands in his, his large hands dwarfing hers. His green eyes bore into her. “Vanessa, he might have shot you, tried to kill you. There are no reasons. You are my wife.”
Of course, he was right. There were no legitimate reasons for anyone to attempt to kill her. Regardless of the motivation, one thing didn’t change. “But he is your brother. You share blood, a family, and a history together,” she argued. Wasn’t that supposed to matter? Wasn’t she expected to forgive Violet for her indiscretion with Jeremy? Vanessa knew her mother would expect so.
“But you are my wife. If given the choice…” His voice trailed off, and he left it unsaid. But Vanessa knew what he was saying. If given the choice, he’d choose her. His wife over his brother. The fierceness of his loyalty shot straight through her. He would choose her. Something she doubted her own family would do. In fact, she didn’t think anyone had ever chosen her.
She longed to say something. To thank him, but words failed her. But then it occurred to her: Graeme hadn’t chosen her either. Oh, he just said he would if it came down to it. Their marriage had been a spontaneous accident, at best. Neither of them had chosen this union. And perhaps if given that choice, Graeme might not be so loyal to her.
“Let us go and look at this clue you’ve found,” he said, then squeezed her hands. He rose to his feet.
“Didn’t you tell me you found The Magi’s Book of Wisdom in that abbey?” she asked.
“Beneath the building. There’s an ancient chamber where monks hid the church’s treasures. But the men of Solomon’s emptied it out years ago, right after I discovered The Magi’s Book of Wisdom.”
“Perhaps you were looking in the wrong place,” she suggested. “The abbey is a large building.”
“I don’t know.” He growled in frustration. “But if the bloody thing has been there the entire time—” He shook his head without finishing his statement.
“I told Esme we would be coming so they could let us in a door without alerting the household to our presence,” she said. “Let’s go and take a peek at that tapestry, and if you think I’m wrong, we’ll leave. It’s that simple.”
“Nothing is ever that simple with you, Vanessa,” he said.
Chapter Seventeen
They made their way through the hills and up to the abbey. Darkness had long since fallen, but the bright light of the moon illuminated their path, and Graeme’s lantern helped when trees shrouded the silver moonbeams. Soon they found themselves hiding against the gate that protected the outer property of the abbey. A large lock secured the gate in place.
“I hadn’t anticipated this being locked,” Vanessa said.
Graeme said nothing. Instead he reached into Vanessa’s bag and retrieved her tools. He carefully selected a flat metal instrument and started to work on the lock.
“Where did you get these tools?” he whispered.
“They were my father’s,” she said.
“He was a scientist as well?” he asked as he maneuvered the instrument up to the bolt.
“He was,” she said.
“Rather progressive for him to leave his tools to a daughter,” Graeme noted.
“Oh, no. He never would have left these to me. In fact, he’d be quite furious to know that I have them. I stole them from his belongings before my mother shipped his clothing to a charity.”
Graeme looked up to eye his wife, and just as he did, the lock shifted and the gate swung open. He tried to quickly gauge her expression, but could read nothing in her glance.
“Shall we?” She pushed past him and entered the yard leading to the abbey.
They approached the building and headed directly to the side door that she and Esme had previously agreed on.
“Vanessa, I’m here,” Esme whispered.
Vanessa grabbed Graeme’s hand and pulled him to the door. As they stepped inside, Vanessa came face-to-face with Fielding. His droll expression took her in and then moved to Graeme.
“Did you know about this?” Graeme asked him.
Fielding shook his head. “No, but I’m not surprised. My lovely wife would not
be herself if she wasn’t trying to get into trouble somewhere.”
“Don’t be such a bore. They needed our help,” Esme said.
It was late enough that Randolph and the servants should be sleeping, but if they came across anyone, Graeme and Vanessa could convince them that they too had decided to stay the night. Not too difficult to believe, since several servants had seen them there as dinner guests only hours before.
“This way,” Vanessa said. She quietly led the way through the first floor to the dining room where she’d seen the tapestry. “There it is,” she whispered.
The four of them walked over to the huge tapestry hanging along the stone wall directly above a sideboard. The tapestry, like most from its time period, depicted everyday life: an homage to the family’s estate and life. Women kneaded bread, men hunted, other men fought battles, and the castle loomed over all in the background.
“What are we looking for?” Esme asked.
“That.” Vanessa pointed to the image in the right corner.
A knight carried a stone. “It looks like every description or illustration I’ve ever come across for the Stone of Destiny,” Graeme said. In the second image, the knight was hiding the stone somewhere in the abbey. A partially constructed abbey, as if the tapestry hinted that the stone was literally part of the abbey itself.
“Looks as if the stone is built into the abbey,” Fielding said, verbalizing Graeme’s very thought.
“But that can’t be,” Graeme said.
“And why not?” Vanessa asked.
“This place was nearly destroyed, and then Randolph reconstructed it.” Graeme ran his hand along the threads. “If the stone had been here all along, it could have been destroyed or moved elsewhere.” Graeme was silent a moment before adding, “unless there is a part of this building that Randolph left untouched.”