Page 131 of For a Scot's Heart Only
“You sound disappointed.”
“I am.” She twisted the folio around to the front of her. “After all this time, there should be a greater reward.”
Thomas retrieved the papers and handed them to her. “One could say you already have it.”
His face was close to hers but utterly unreadable.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” she said in a low voice while jamming papers into her folio.
Thomas stiffened, alert. He turned his ear to the window and his hand stopped hers from stuffing the folio.
She could feel her eyes get bigger. The night wasstillness with nothing but her thoughts and the curtains stirring until Thomas’s hand slipped off hers.
“Thought I heard something.” A shake of his head and suspicion clouded his eyes. “This was too easy.”
“Don’t say that.” She folded over the folio’s leather flap, her palms dampening by the second.
Upon rising, she dropped the key onto the desk, her parting gift for the countess of Denton. It was atake that!arrogant thing to do. Lady Denton was a smart woman, but she was a vain one as well.
Why else would she commission the bust of a goddess to be sculpted with her face?
Mary swiveled on plush carpet, her eyes having adjusted to the unlit room. There, on a shelf, was the audacious sculpture. Lady Denton styled as a goddess. The delicate nose was a giveaway, as was the imperious angle of her face.
“Let’s go.” Thomas was already striding to the window.
“Wait. Look at that. It’s Mr. Clabberhorn’s sculpture.”
“I see it. Now let’s go.”
“Not yet.”
She was drawn to the unpainted porcelain. A magnetic pull that would not be denied. Why not examine it? They had the papers, and Denton House was as soundless as a church on Monday morning. All the servants were gone or abed.
And she was done being afraid of this woman.
Her feet seemed to agree the bust needed checking. The folio hanging in front of her, she went to the sculpture. Mr. Clabberhorn had said there was a hole in the back. An odd request. She reachedaround the porcelain goddess and searched for an opening. She was heavy, this Diana. More like a true marble bust than something made of dirt and clay. Mary pushed up on her toes and reached higher.
“The hole. I found it.” She stuck two fingers inside and touched air. She tried harder. The hole was big enough for her hand to slip inside, but when she tried to take it out, the porcelain bust toppled over and landed with a weightythudon thick carpet.
She clapped a hand over her mouth.
Coins scattered at her feet. A shiny pond of gold mixed with broken porcelain from the bust split in two.
Thomas raced around the desk. “What is this?”
Mary dropped to her knees and ran her fingers through the mass. Money trickled through her fingers, clinking as it fell. What a lovely sound. Though it was dark, she scrutinized one gold piece.
“Well, would you look at that squinting profile.”
Thomas was on the ground beside her. “I’m not familiar with my squinting monarchs.”
She bumped her shoulder companionably into his. “You’ll like this one.” She put the coin in his hand. “Meet your new friend, louis d’or.” She sifted through the gold, trying to contain her excitement. “Do you know what this means?”
Thomas pocketed the coin. “It means we need to go. Someone’s bound to have heard us and will come check the room.”
She ignored him, caught in the glow of their find.
“These are louis d’or aux lunettes, and they are wonderful because one of these is worth twenty livres.” She excitedly grabbed fistfuls of coins. “This must be the last of the Jacobite treasure.” Sheopened the leather folio and dumped the louis d’ors into the pouch.
