Page 7 of An Earl Unmasked
She wiggled, and the man tightened his hold of her. “Why would you trust a complete stranger?”
“Mayhap, it wasn’t trust.” His arms tensed beneath her knees. She shouldn’t take delight in aggravating the man. Frowning to cover the smirk that threatened to appear, Diana said, “What if you foiled my clever plan?”
“Pray tell, what scheme did I thwart by saving your neck?”
She glanced up at the ladder. The ceilings at Chestwick Hall were of massive size, no doubt due to the fact the males in the family tended to be well above average height. She estimated she hadn’t been more than nine feet above the ground. “It’s more likely I’d have sprained an ankle than sever my neck from that elevation.”
Lord Chestwick stared at her neck. “You would risk injury for what purpose?”
She lifted the book from her chest. “For the opportunity to solve your papa’s mystery.”
He carried her across the room, toward the door. Fearing he meant to send her away, she wrapped her left arm about his neck and tugged on his left earlobe. “You granted me the day to attempt to solve your papa’s puzzle.”
That stalled the man. He stopped at the threshold and deposited her on her feet. “The day grows late. Your time is up.”
“But it’s summer. There are at least three more hours of sunshine. I’ve only managed to decipher but one of your papa’s clues.” She wasn’t about to be tossed out of Chestwick Hall until she’d given it all her effort to solve the blasted riddle.
“How many clues are there?”
She loosened her hold on the volume still pressed to her chest and pulled out the folded parchment from her décolleté. Diana cleared her throat and, from memory, recited the missive old Lord Chestwick had penned for her.
“Dear Lady Diana, Congratulations on surviving your first Season. I trust that if you are reading this, you have kept a level head and refused, I’m certain, no fewer than two proposals. But I promise the treasure you shall find will be worth the sacrifice.” She peered up to find Lord Chestwick’s features as hard as stone. Continuing on, “In order to discover the location of your prize, you must first decipher the following eight clues.”
“Eight!” Lord Chestwick held out his hand. “Give me that damn note.”
Reluctantly, she handed over the missive.
“Why would my papa devise such an intricate scheme?” Her host’s eyes continued to scan the sprawling script. “What is this treasure you are to find?”
“Your papa was aware of my fondness for codes and search and finds. The more challenging, the more satisfaction I gain from solving it. Given the terms, he’d not insult me with an easily solved puzzle.” She took back the note and placed it securely in the valley between her breasts and her gown. “As for the treasure, I can only hope it is his most valued piece of literature he bemoaned on and on about.”
Lord Chestwick rubbed his temples. “Lady Diana, would it pain you to not speak in riddles and rhymes.”
How could the man standing before her be the product of the kind, patient, scholarly man who delighted in verbally sparring with Diana and shared her passion for the unlimited possibilities of the written word?
She shoved the heavy volume into Lord Chestwick’s chest. “My apologies. It appears all the years you chose to spend away upon the Continent have dulled the quick mind your papa claimed you possessed. Let me explain, over the past two summers, the two that saw your papa’s health decline rapidly, the two that you did not make an appearance, I was here. And your papa claimed there was a singular poem that he was certain would explain my conundrum regarding love and marriage.”
“And my papa believed…” Lord Chestwick peered down at the book in his possession, “you would find the solution inThe History of Linguistics?”
“No, silly.” Diana shook her head. “That is merely one part of the puzzle I’m to solve. I believe the poem I’m to discover is stashed between the pages of the last clue.”
“Why did he not simply tell you who penned this elusive piece of literature?”
“Ahh…where would the fun be in that?” She reached to reclaim the book. “Also, your papa claims it was written by a scholar who remains in hiding and has declared they shall remain until the poem’s true meaning is discovered.”
Lord Chestwick’s eyes widened. “You can’t believe in all this nonsense.”
Diana tugged at the book. Instead of relinquishing it, Lord Chestwick deftly placed it behind his back. The momentum pushed Diana a step closer, and he wrapped an arm around her waist to bring them face-to-face.
Diana stared into his hazel eyes. “Why would your papa lie?”
“Mayhap, he created the elaborate story as a hoax. Mayhap he was suffering from an aging disease.”
“Aging disease!” Diana roared. “How dare you accuse your papa of misleading me. You know nothing. For years you have been off fighting in the war. Not once did you return to visit, even when you were alerted to your papa’s heart condition.”
Lord Chestwick flinched but remained inches away. “I couldn’t abandon my men.”
“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?” Her challenging statement rolled off her tongue without thought. Old Lord Chestwick had loved his son unconditionally, even made excuses for his absence. Diana couldn’t comprehend why Randal had remained abroad rather than returning home.
