Enticing Her Unexpected Bridegroom

by Catherine Hemmerling

  Looking into the space left by the book and at the opening beyond it, David saw what appeared to be a keyhole.

  “This must be to what the last of the poem refers, but where is the ‘pale key’ that turns to ‘gold’?”

  David looked at the book in his hands.

  “Knowledge is kept tucked away,” he recited absently as he opened the book.

  The inside of the volume had been hollowed out and, in place of its litany of prayers, lay six ivory keys.

  “The keys,” Sarah whispered. “You found them.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Whether you like me or not is of no concern. All I ask is for the respect I deserve.

  —The Duke of Lancaster

  Sarah looked at the keys in awe. They had done it. They had solved all the clues, found the lock, and now the keys. Whatever the earl had hidden…they were going to find it.

  “Which key is it?” she asked. “Do any of them look golden?”

  Sarah watched David take out one key at a time and hold it up to the light coming in through the large bay windows.

  “They all look the same shade of white to me.”

  “Remember the last line of the poem, David,” Melinda said. “The key will turn gold, when met with maker of its mold. Is there a maker’s mark on any of the keys?”

  “Of course, Melinda. Very good,” David replied as he picked up each of the keys again.

  On the fourth one, he paused. Looking around, he suddenly left the bookcase and walked over to the desk situated in front of the large window.

  “What is it, David?” Sarah asked, confused by his change of focus.

  “There’s something engraved on this one, but I can’t quite make it out.”

  “May I try?” Sarah asked.

  David handed her the key, all the while continuing his search of the desk.

  Sarah held the key up to the light in the same manner David had earlier. As her husband had said, there was a small, nearly indecipherable, mark on the bow of the key. Try as she might, however, Sarah couldn’t make it out.

  “Here, my love,” David said, holding out a magnifying glass. “Try this.”

  Sarah nearly dropped the key when she heard David once again call her his “love.” Did he even realize what he was saying? Did it mean anything to him if he did? She had heard notorious rakes calling their targets “love” many times, but for all that David had played at being a lothario in the past, she had never heard him use such an endearment before her. And now she had heard it twice in one day.

  What does it mean?

  “Sarah?” she heard David ask as he shook the hand glass at her.

  “Oh, yes. Sorry.”

  She took the proffered magnifier and attempted to gather her wits while looking once again at the key. She was astonished to find—though she wasn’t sure why, considering all that had happened that day—the mark of the Potters.

  “It’s the Potters,” she said softly, handing the key to David. “This key was made by the Potters.”

  David smacked himself in the forehead. “Of course it was! Mrs. Potter said herself at the tea that the earl had seen them testing the compound on their pottery. He must have commissioned a key shortly thereafter.”

  “I wonder why she didn’t say anything about it,” Melinda said reflectively.

  “She probably didn’t remember or understand the significance.”

  “So you’re thinking, if we expose this key to heat, it will turn yellow like the pottery?”

  “Yes, and while I don’t think it’s necessary to test our theory—the key should work regardless—I can prove it nonetheless.”

  Using his hand, David felt on the desk each of the spots where the sun from the windows hit it. Following the path his hand made with her own, Sarah could feel that the sunlit spots on the desk were noticeably warmer than the ones out of the light.

  David laid the key on the warmest area. Within seconds, the key turned from a pale white to the color of straw.

  “Amazing,” Melinda said. “I can’t see how the lord would have figured this out even if he had gotten this far in solving the poem.”

  “I suppose he could have just tried all the keys,” Sarah replied.

  “I don’t believe so,” David chimed in, heading back over to the bookcase. “If the spikes are any indication, I would guess the old man would have created a scenario that would allow only this key to work.”

  “How would he have managed that?” Melinda asked, watching David insert the key carefully.

  “One way would be to ensure a flaw in the making of the other keys that would cause them to break off in the lock if tried.”

  They all heard a soft click, followed by a pop of released air, as David turned the key.

  “My, that would be clever,” Melinda replied. “That would prevent the use of any other key, including the correct one, if one relied strictly on guesswork.”

  “Exactly,” David said as he opened the small door the key had released.

  Crowding close, Sarah could see folded papers inside the compartment. As David pulled them out, she prayed her thanks to God that they had found them instead of Blackwood.

  David stuck the document unread into his waistcoat pocket.

  “Don’t you want to read them?” Sarah asked, aghast.

  “Of course, Sarah-dear. But let us get somewhere safe first, yes?”

  Begrudgingly acknowledging the good sense of this idea, Sarah helped David put the bookcase and desk back to rights. Within minutes, the three of them were heading out of the house and away from the grounds as fast as their legs could carry them.

  They returned to Melinda’s attic before reading the papers they had found. Sarah had wanted to read them in the carriage, but David had said it would be safer to wait until they were under the cover of roof and eave. Again, she couldn’t argue with the logic, but the suspense was killing her.

  Upon arriving at Melinda’s, they found Rose, Hannah, and Emily waiting for them. Sarah was very glad to see them. There were some moments meant to be shared with your dearest friends, and this success was one of them. It took only a moment to tell them what had happened and how they had found the hidden documents. Soon enough, Sarah found herself seated on the edge of the bed next to David and Melinda with her friends all gathered around. Then and only then did he pull out the document.

  There were what appeared to be a half dozen or so pages. Clearly emblazoned on the top of the first page were the words, Last Will and Testament. Just below this glorious title was the name, Edward Blackwood, the ninth earl of Blackwood; son of Frederick Blackwood, the eighth Earl of Blackwood, and so forth.

  “This is it,” Melinda cried softly. “This is the rumored will. Does it mention an heir?”

  “Let me che—” David began to say, when they heard a woman calling up from downstairs.

  “Melinda?”

  Melinda looked toward the door sharply. “It’s my aunt. I had better go see what she wants. Please do not wait on my account. We must find out if there is another heir!” They all agreed to keep reading, and the girl quickly exited the room.

  “Well,” Sarah said to David. “Let’s find out the truth, shall we?”

  They commenced with reading and, as each new revelation was uncovered within the will that read more like a diary, Sarah found it more and more difficult to read through the tears welling in her eyes. She was touched when David handed her his handkerchief absentmindedly.

  As she dabbed, she continued to read the unbelievable tale unfolding before them.

  The will disclosed the fact that the notorious bachelor had, in fact, married late in his life. A widow of good standing lived in the village and sold candles in a shop. Apparently, the earl, in need of an outing and some human interaction, which he was wont to need on occasion, found himself perusing her shop.

  A small initial chat soon led to long conversations and, unbelievably, the earl fell in love with the widow. After a number of months of finding
any excuse to visit the woman, Blackwood finally proposed to the candlemaker. The widow who, by the earl’s account, loved him in return, agreed to marry him but only if they kept the union secret. She did not want the lord’s reputation besmirched in any way by the unsuitability of their marriage. The earl reluctantly acquiesced.

  The two were married and lived quite happily for a number of years. To keep his word to his bride, Blackwood brought her into the household as the head housekeeper. This gave her the same authority that might be granted a wife—control of the staff, the menus, and a small allowance for household needs—but the anonymity she desired.

  The staff wasn’t foolish enough to believe the new housekeeper and earl were just employee and employer, according to the earl’s notes, because it was obvious to anyone in the house that they were sharing a bedchamber. But his wife was content at being thought his mistress, and he was content to have the woman he loved by his side.

  After years of bliss, it soon came to be that his wife was ill. Very ill, as it turned out. Within months of the first symptoms, the earl lost his beloved spouse. Sarah could not keep from crying out when she read this. It was such a romantic story, thus far, and she could feel the pain of his loss in his writings.

  When the day of her funeral arrived, all arranged by Blackwood, he was surprised to see a man he did not recognize in attendance. As the woman’s supposed employer, the earl introduced himself to the man. To his surprise, he was told that the stranger was, in fact, the widow’s son from her first marriage.

  Blackwood wrote nearly a page on the surprise he felt at learning his wife had had a child. Never in all their years together had she mentioned him. Without looking like he was prying, the earl asked the son where he had been for so long.

  The younger man, perhaps needing to clear his chest at such a solemn occasion, told the earl of a fight he had had with his mother. At the time of the argument, the man had thought his mother’s infractions unforgivable, but for the life of him, he could no longer remember what had caused the rift.

  Blackwood noted that the son seemed beside himself with grief that he had not forgiven his mother when he had the chance.

  After a bit more conversation, the earl learned that the man had found himself gainful and respectable employment as a butler for a fine noble family in London. He had married but had not yet started a family. He seemed happy and settled, so the earl did not tell him that he and his mother had been married. At the time, the earl had written, it had seemed in line with the express wishes of his wife.

  The earl never forgot his stepson, however, and he would check in on the man every now and then, but other than that, Blackwood’s life went on unchanged except for the fact that he was once again alone.

  A year or two later, Blackwood began to feel his own mortality and, as he had no children of his own, he decided to seek out his sister’s family for a chance to meet his heir before his ultimate demise. He had heard she had had a son, and it had been expected for some time—since the earl had appeared always a bachelor—that this nephew would inherit.

  He and his sister had never been close. As in most noble families, he had spent most of his youth at Eton and then at university. His sister had remained in the charge of his mother, and even upon his vacations home, the two had never had much in common. Of course, he was also several years her senior, which certainly had had an impact.

  Sarah understood this better than the earl could have known. With her own siblings so much her elder, she could relate immediately to the distance between the siblings.

  Blackwood went on to describe his first meeting with the boy that would become the next Earl of Blackwood. He ranted on for many paragraphs about his nephew’s selfishness and entitlement. Even as a lad, he’d treated the family servants with disdain and even cruelty. It was unfathomable to a man as generous and caring as Edward to even consider making this knave his heir.

  Sarah and David read on about how the old man could only conceive of one other man being the next Lord Blackwood. His stepson. This, of course, was not often done—a stepson inheriting—but with the right documentation the earl knew he could make it so. After speaking to the Regent, the earl received special compensation that gave him a say in naming his successor. He wrote that he felt he had to keep his plans secret, as his sister’s son was just the type to murder for succession.

  Therefore, Edward had begun to plot.

  They were familiar with the rest. The aging earl had devised a hiding spot for his will and the documents supporting his claims of marriage and that of the relation of his requested heir to his late wife. With the papers secure, he began work on the poem that would lead the man, who had grown up in Chelmsford, to the hidden compartment.

  It was clear from his account that he had not planned to die before making his intentions known to his chosen heir. As it was, all David and Sarah had to convince this unknown man that he was suddenly to become an earl, was this rambling will, marriage license, and a page of births from the local church registry, all of which were detailed in the will.

  All they needed to do now to complete the puzzle was read those accompanying documents.

  Turning the last page of the will over slowly, inspecting the various signatures scrawled upon the bottom, David finally revealed the paper that held the name of the earl’s wife, at last. It was clearly written on the license of marriage, given to the earl by the vicar apparently at the same time he had signed as witness to the will.

  The name on the document was Henrietta Cole.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It’s best to rise up step by step rather than reach the top too soon and fall.

  —The Duke of Lancaster

  “Cole?” Sarah gasped. “It can’t be, can it?”

  David knew she was thinking of her butler and his wife. But what were the odds? However, further reading confirmed his wife’s suspicions. Henrietta Cole and her late husband had had one son: Henry Cole. The very same man who had treated Sarah like a daughter from the time she could walk.

  “Oh my,” Sarah said, weeping happily. “Cole and Mrs. Cole are the rightful Earl and Countess of Blackwood. Whatever will they say when they hear this?”

  “It will be tough for them to fathom, I imagine. Cole has spent his whole life in the servant class. To suddenly find out you have been given an inheritance like this? I suspect his first impulse will be to run from the responsibility.”

  “But these people…the people of Blackwood…they need a man like Cole to provide for them and to treat them fairly,” Rose said, also apparently close to tears.

  “And Cole would,” Sarah vowed. “There’s not a doubt in my mind that he would make the most wonderful earl.”

  “Not everyone will embrace this situation as you have,” David cautioned. “Many of the peerage will not count a butler-cum-earl as one of their own.”

  “David’s right,” Hannah agreed.

  “Here in Blackwood that will hardly signify,” Sarah said logically. “I can’t imagine the Coles mixing with the ton. They have no reason to. But they could be happy here. In this rural town, close to family. And we will help them, will we not? You are to be an earl one day, David. You can teach Cole about his responsibilities to the title.”

  David chuckled at his wife’s earnestness. She was right, of course. Cole would be an excellent Blackwood, and David would be honored to help the man who meant so much to his Sarah.

  “Naturally, my dear. We will all do what we can to help with the transition.”

  “Oh, David!” Sarah burst out. “I am so happy.”

  She flung her arms around him and laughed in his ear. David was inspired to pick her up and swing her around gleefully. He did so enjoy seeing Sarah happy. He supposed that was what love really was all about. The desire to see and make a person happy beyond all belief. And it was then that he realized what his heart had known for a while. He loved Sarah. Not the Sarah he had known for years, the best friend of his sister and practically a sister
to him as well. But this Sarah. The Sarah who set his soul and his loins on fire. The girl who made him want to be a better man and did make him a better man.

  But was he too late? Had she shut down her feelings already? He knew Hannah didn’t approve, and his own misgivings must have sent a message. Not to mention his history and her own self-worth. Were those things enough for her to give up on loving him? On him loving her? He hoped to God the answer was no.

  As he set her down, David could swear she had breathed something against his neck before standing on her own two feet, but unless she repeated it, he would never be sure.

  “What did you just say, Sarah?” he asked softly.

  Sarah looked anywhere but at him as she replied, “Nothing, David. Nothing at all.”

  David grabbed her arm gently but firmly and led her from the room to the hallway.

  “It was something. Please tell me,” David practically begged once they were alone.

  When Sarah lifted her gaze to him, the troubled yet hopeful look in hers eyes nearly tore his gut apart.

  “I love you,” she said in a barely audible whisper.

  She stood before him looking like a recalcitrant child expecting to be scolded or punished.

  David’s heart broke a little when he saw just how afraid Sarah was of being rejected by love once again. No wonder the Coles meant everything to her. They had accepted her love fully, giving back as much as she had given them.

  Well, now David wanted some of that unconditional love, and it was time his beloved girl knew it.

  “I love you, too, Sarah-dear,” he replied in no uncertain terms. “I actually told you last night, but you fell asleep and didn’t hear me. I was unsure of myself then, but I know now it is the veriest truth.”

  Sarah’s mouth dropped open. “But when, how…I don’t understand. You love me?”

  David took her hand and sat on a bench in the hallway, pulling her down with him.

  “I can’t say when I started loving you, Sarah, because I think I have loved you for much longer than even I knew. I didn’t realize it for a long time, because I don’t think I truly understood what love was. Not the kind of love shared between a man and a woman.”