by Darcy Burke
* * *
Replacing the book upon the shelf, Amelia frowned at her grandfather’s library. What had she expected to find? She was familiar with the contents of his bookshelves, and there was precisely one book that contained mention of any of the Thirteen Treasures. It was a compendium of medieval romances her grandfather had transcribed for himself, including the story of Ranulf and Hilaria. Of the treasures, perhaps her grandfather had only cared about the heart and the dagger, which made sense since he’d found them.
Or found fakes.
The doubt Penn Bowen had planted in her mind drew her lips into a grimace. Damn him.
She turned and surveyed her grandfather’s small but cozy study. Everything in here was familiar and yet she felt as if she were looking at it all with new eyes. She drifted to the worktable in front of the window where he would lay out his books and antiquities. A handful of ancient iron tools cluttered one corner, while a large piece of chipped pottery sat in another.
How she wished she’d talked to him more about his interests. But she’d been too busy with her own life until coming to live with him five years ago. And then her father had died, which had prompted her grandfather’s decline. One thing she had learned—life was short, and the time with loved ones even more fleeting.
Which was why she was weary of being a spectator, first with her own matters and then in others. She went to the desk where she’d begun to work in recent weeks and found the last letter she’d received from Lady Spier in Bath. As chair of the Ladies’ Antiquities Society, she’d contacted Amelia after her grandfather’s death to extend her condolences. And to invite Amelia to their next meeting.
Amelia had sent a thank-you note but declined their invitation. Another invitation had arrived a month later and a third while she’d been in Burrington. It was the third—which she’d read just that morning—that she picked up. Their meeting was today. Amelia could go and find out how they’d known her grandfather and why they’d invited her. Perhaps they could also tell her about Penn Bowen or the mysterious Order. Or both.
Clutching the missive in her hand, she left the office and went in search of Mrs. Talmidge, her housekeeper. Amelia found her dusting in the small sitting room at the front of the cottage.
A motherly woman in her middle fifties with dark gray hair and bright blue eyes, the housekeeper looked up as Amelia entered. “Do you need something, Mrs. Forrest?”
“I should like to go into Bath this afternoon for an appointment. Has Horatio returned from accompanying Mr. Talmidge on his errands?”
“Just a bit ago. I’ll let him know to ready the carriage. When do you wish to leave?”
“Within the hour, thank you.”
“Dare I hope you’re attending a social engagement of some kind?” Mrs. Talmidge’s mouth curved into an expectant smile.
“Yes, in fact.” Amelia enjoyed a rather close relationship with the staff. They were like family, probably because most of them were. Mrs. Talmidge was married to the caretaker, Mr. Talmidge, and the groom who also served as coachman and footman was their son Horatio. Amelia’s maid, Culley, was Mrs. Talmidge’s niece. Only the cook, Mrs. Jermyn, wasn’t related to the Talmidges, but she and Mrs. Talmidge had worked together since they were fifteen, so they might as well have been sisters.
The housekeeper’s smile broadened. “How lovely. I am so glad you aren’t spending too much time in mourning. Your grandfather wouldn’t want that.”
Amelia glanced down at her dove-gray gown, one of only a few she owned that would satisfy mourning costume. She didn’t see the point in investing in any. “I’ll just get ready. Please let Horatio know I’ll be down shortly.”
Mrs. Talmidge gave a brief nod before disappearing from the sitting room. Amelia followed her out and went upstairs to prepare for her departure.
Less than an hour later, Horatio steered the coach into Sydney Place. It was a fashionable address, and Amelia had to assume Lady Spier came from wealth. Or had married wealth.
Horatio opened the door and helped her down. Amelia took a deep breath and formulated the questions she wanted to ask. She prided herself on organization and order, which made this mystery surrounding her grandfather and his findings so troubling. It was difficult not to be able to lay her hands on proof that what he’d found was real.
As she reached the top step in front of the door, the portal swung open, and a tall stately butler welcomed her inside. “Good afternoon,” he intoned, his deep voice carrying through the large marbled foyer.
“Good afternoon.” Amelia kept her voice soft, feeling a trifle intimidated by her formal surroundings. She’d been in elegant settings before, but she came from a simple background. “I’m Mrs. Forrest. I’m here to attend a meeting.”
“Of course. Please follow me.” He turned on his heel and led her toward the back of the foyer, where he took a sharp right. Pausing at the threshold of a well-appointed sitting room, he said, “Mrs. Forrest has arrived.”
Three women were seated, and one of them stood. “Thank you, Blessing.”
Blessing? Amelia slid a glance toward the butler as he turned and left.
The woman came forward, drawing Amelia’s attention once more. “We are so delighted you’ve come!” She paused in front of Amelia, her full lips spreading into a welcoming smile and her gray eyes twinkling. Blonde curls framed her face, and Amelia realized they had met before, at some social event within the last few years, though she couldn’t place exactly where.
Amelia bobbed a brief curtsey. “Thank you for the kind invitation, Lady Spier.”
“Oh, you must call me Andy, which is short for Andromeda, of course—all my friends do, and I’ve decided we shall be friends. Come and meet the other members of the Society. Well, the ones who are here. We’re missing one, I’m afraid, but she was recently wed, so she has an excuse for her absence.”
“An exceedingly poor one, if you ask me,” one of the other women said a bit sourly. She was clearly a relative of Andy’s, with the same strong chin and similar golden hair, though hers carried a bit of red that gave it a coppery tone. Gold-rimmed spectacles framed her hazel eyes as she looked Amelia over.
“You would say that, committed spinster that you are,” the third woman said softly, but with a warmth that said they regularly spoke to each other in this manner.
Andy laughed. “Forgive my sister, Mrs. Forrest. Selina is quite right about Cassie’s spinsterhood. Allow me to present Miss Cassiopeia—Cassie—Whitfield and Mrs. Selina Ashcombe.”
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Amelia said, inclining her head to them.
“We’re so glad you’ve finally come,” Mrs. Ashcombe said. “You must call me Selina—I’ve decided that we’ll be friends too.”
Amelia didn’t remember the last time she’d felt so welcomed. Maybe never.
Cassie narrowed her eyes. “I suppose that means we’ll be friends as well, so you should call me Cassie. I daresay you’ll like me best.” She gave her sister and Selina a superior look that caused them both to laugh.
At that moment, Amelia couldn’t imagine liking any of them more than any other. They were, sadly, the first friends she’d made in years and she’d do nothing to alienate any of them. Why had she waited so long to accept their invitation? “I’ve been in mourning,” she blurted.
Andy’s forehead creased in sympathy. “Of course. We were so sorry to hear of Mr. Gardiner’s passing. He was a revered member of our community.”
“He was?”
“At one time,” Andy said. “Come and sit. Would you care for tea?”
Amelia nodded as Andy led her to the settee where Selina sat. “Yes, thank you.”
Selina set to pouring her a cup and asked if she cared for milk or sugar.
“Just sugar,” Amelia said. “I must apologize, but I’m not at all certain what your…organization does or how you know my grandfather.”
Andy nodded, her gaze warm with empathy. “I understand he was ill the last few years.”
“Yes.” Amelia accepted her teacup from Selina and took a small, tentative sip. It was an excellent, aromatic blend, unlike anything she’d ever tasted. “This tea is extraordinary.”
“Cassie is very particular about tea. She likes to create her own.” Andy, who’d retaken her chair, looked to her sister, who sat in a matching chair adjacent. “Which one is this, dear?”
“I call it sunlight harmony. It has a distinctively summery flavor. Perfect for today.”
Indeed it was. The day was bright and warm and beautiful—the best of summer. “It’s delicious,” Amelia said, taking another sip. “So is this an official meeting?”
“As official as we ever get,” Selina said, grinning. “We should explain ourselves.” She looked to Andy, who was clearly the leader.
“We are the Ladies’ Antiquities Society, dedicated to the discovery and preservation of antiquities.” That sounded a bit like the purpose of the Order Penn had told Amelia about. Penn? She really ought to think of him as Mr. Bowen. “We are not to be confused with the London Natural Society of Antiquities.”
Cassie snorted. “How could we be? They don’t allow women.”
“So true,” Selina said dispassionately. “But then that’s why we started our own group.” She gave Amelia a definitive nod. “And ours is better.”
Amelia laughed. How could she not? These women were utterly delightful. “Do you actually go out and search for artifacts?” She’d tried and failed. If only she’d met these women before she’d undertaken to find the dagger. Regret curdled in her gut.
“Yes,” Andy said. “Generally speaking, we do not possess the smooth hands and manicured nails of a cultured lady. Particularly at this time of year.”
Selina nodded in agreement. “We don’t care much what other people think. I’m married, Cassie is a spinster—as you know—and Andy is a widow.”
What a lovely attitude, and one that Amelia supported. “I am also a widow.” More or less. In two years’ time, it would be official.
“I lost my husband eight years ago,” Andy said. “How long has it been for you?”
“Five.” Lost was an apt description in Amelia’s case. “And we didn’t have any children.”
Andy gave her an encouraging smile. “Neither did we. I miss Cecil from time to time, but it’s been long enough, and our union was so brief that I don’t even think of him every day.” Her smiled faded, and she looked around at her friends. “Is that ghastly?”
“Not at all,” Amelia said. “I don’t think of Thaddeus every day either.” And when she did, it was to say “good riddance.” “How long has your Society been together?”
“Twelve years,” Cassie said. “Andy and I founded it when I was just fifteen and Andy was seventeen.”
“And whatever provoked you to do so?” Amelia asked. “Aside from the fact that you couldn’t join the London one.”
“Why should men have all the fun?” Cassie scoffed. “I’ve always liked to dig and read and go adventuring. This is why I’m a spinster.”
Andy sipped her tea and gave her sister a long-suffering look. “I do believe Amelia comprehends.” She turned her attention fully to Amelia. “Now, let us return to your dear grandfather. I was acquainted with him several years ago—before he stopped going out. I know of his antiquarian pursuits and his achievements. I wondered if you had perhaps inherited his interest?”
She didn’t think she had, but after her adventure to Burrington, her mind was changing. “Yes, I think I might have.” The words came out slowly, as if she’d just come to that realization. And perhaps she had.
Selina clapped her hands together. “Wonderful!”
Cassie sat forward in her chair and pushed her spectacles up her nose as she studied Amelia with keen interest. “Tell us what you’ve done.”
“Er, done?”
Cassie nodded. “What you’ve discovered or researched. We write papers and publish them under an alias. We could help you share what you’ve learned—that is our overarching purpose.”
“So they won’t know we’re women,” Selina clarified.
Certain she’d stepped into the deep end of a pond, Amelia tried to find a suitable answer. She settled on the truth. “I haven’t discovered or researched anything. I’ve only come upon this…interest recently. This week, in fact.”
Cassie’s brightness dimmed just a bit, and she inched back on her chair. “Oh.”
Andy rolled her eyes at her sister. “Don’t be like that. Amelia has come to us with an interest, and who better to guide her? I know you were hoping she might be able to share stories with you, but—”
“Well, I can share one story,” Amelia interjected before she could censor herself. Three pairs of eyes turned toward her expectantly. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said anything. Liking these women and wanting friends wasn’t the same as trust. She’d trusted too easily once, and it had buried her in trouble. “My grandfather discovered something extraordinary—it’s in the Ashmolean Museum.”
“The Heart of Llanllwch, yes,” Andy said. “We know all about that. It’s an astounding achievement. We wondered if he found anything else of note.”
Were they pursuing specific information? What if they were somehow linked to the Order? Except their women-only society and disdain for the general antiquary community seemed to infer that they were on their own. She couldn’t see an ancient organization like the one Penn had described as something they would be involved with. Still, she should be wary. Hadn’t Penn advised her to do just that?
Taking his advice grated, but she had to grudgingly admit he was right.
Andy’s eyes widened. “Oh my goodness, you think we’re trying to ferret information from you. Please accept my deepest apology. We want nothing of the kind.”
“That’s not entirely true, sister,” Cassie said pertly. “We always want information. However, we want it for the sake of knowledge—nothing more.” Cassie smiled at Amelia, which softened her features.
Selina turned toward her on the settee. “We suspect your grandfather also found the dagger, which goes along with the heart. Are you familiar with the tale of Hilaria and Ranulf?”
“Quite.” Amelia relaxed slightly. “My grandfather did find the dagger, and I only recently went in search of where he’d hidden it. Unfortunately, someone else found it first and it was stolen.”
Three sharp intakes of breath filled the room, followed by a rather unladylike curse from Cassie. “Do you know who it was?” Cassie asked, her eyes narrowed in what seemed to be a mix of anger and determination.
Before Amelia could answer, Blessing returned to the doorway. “You’ve another visitor, the proxy for your missing member, I believe.”
Andy blinked. “Ah yes, I forgot.”
“Do you know who found and stole the dagger?” Selina pressed.
Amelia jumped at the opportunity to query them about Penn. “I wanted to ask you about this individual—the one who found the dagger. I suspect he’s a well-known individual in antiquarian circles.”
Blessing’s deep voice sounded from the doorway once more. “Mr. Pennard Bowen.”
Amelia turned her head and rose from the settee, aghast. “Him.”
Chapter 4
Penn could scarcely believe his eyes. Standing on the other side of the settee, her eyes wide and her lips slightly parted, was Amelia Forrest. Her blonde hair was dressed with artful curls around her heart-shaped face, and a lace-edged dove-gray gown encased her thoroughly feminine form. How had he ever mistaken her for a man?
He executed a deep bow. “Mrs. Forrest.” He realized he’d done that wrong. He ought to have bowed first to his hostess, who also outranked everyone else in the room as a dowager viscountess. He corrected his mistake and went to where Andy sat. “Lady Spier.”
“Do stop with that nonsense,” Andy said, swatting her hand at him. “You’re family.”
“Family?” Amelia’s question rattled the air.
“Not really. His sister is our missi
ng member, so he’s like family,” Selina explained.
“Are you saying he stole the dagger?” Cassie asked loudly.
Penn looked at Amelia sharply. “What did you tell them?”
Amelia’s shoulders stiffened. “Nothing yet.” She clasped her hands together in front of her waist. “He didn’t steal it, but he found it before I could.”
“You couldn’t have found it on your own,” he said.
Cassie scowled at him. “Why, because she’s a woman?”
Penn should’ve expected Cassie’s reaction—he’d walked right into it. “Because she was ill-equipped and yes, because she’s a woman. I had to dangle from a rope and cut my hand to ribbons to reach it.” He held up his gloved hand, which had hurt quite a bit yesterday but had drastically improved once he’d applied Amelia’s salve regularly. Between him and Egg, they were nearly out of the stuff. His hope that she might provide more began to wither beneath her so-far frosty reception.
Cassie snorted again. “Let the record show that I didn’t agree with including him as proxy.”
Andy threw her sister an overly patient stare tinged with annoyance. “Cate said he had important news to share.”
“Important to whom?” Cassie grumbled.
“You were right,” Amelia said to Cassie. “I do like you best.”
Cassie immediately brightened and adjusted her spectacles as she sat a bit taller.
And now Amelia was aligned with the man-hating termagant. Wonderful.
“What news are you sharing?” Amelia asked.
Penn looked around the room. “Is the meeting in session, then? Did you start without me?”
“I’d forgotten you were coming, actually,” Andy said. “I do apologize. But no, we hadn’t officially started. We were just getting to know Mrs. Forrest.”
“You must call me Amelia,” she said.
Penn wanted to thaw the air between them. He took a step toward her. “Does that include me?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “It does not.”
“Pity,” he murmured.
Andy waved Penn toward the settee. “Do sit.”