Page 86 of The Nature of a Lady
She understood the apology in his look now. She wanted to go out with them, hear what Beth had to say. And she’d have had every right to, if her brother hadn’t ruined everything with his arrival. But nowit was only logical that she keep him and Sheridan out of the way. Oliver and Mabena would just have to update her later. She gave him a small nod to let him know she understood.
Sheridan didn’t seem to though. He stepped forward too, an odd expression on his face and a hand held out. “Actually ... that is, I think you’d better stay here. I mean, I have a feeling—drat it all. Is this about the search for Mucknell’s treasure? What with Scofields and Rosedews and Elizabeths, I suspect it is.”
Libby knew her own face must register the same shock that the others’ did. And a bit of the matching confusion on Bram’s and Beth’s.
Beth regained herself first, surging another step into the room and slamming the door behind her. “What do you know of that, my lord?”
He gave her a look that was perfectly Sheridan—a bit wincing, a bit self-deprecating, and yet fully committed to whatever path he’d decided upon without a single care to whatever bystanders might be in the way. “Well, you see ... that is ... well, I’m the buyer who hired them.”
Bram was pacing, still clutching his empty teacup. Sheridan was hunched into a chair at the head of the library table, looking as though he were trying to keep a mental list of the dozens of questions that had already been fired at him. Casek and Mabena had both taken seats too, and Beth had pulled out a chair across from Sheridan but failed to sit in it, gripping it tightly instead as she glared at him.
Libby had stayed where she was, since her spot afforded a view of all the faces at the table. And she was doubly glad of it when Oliver edged his way to her side.
“I can’t believe this.” A sentiment they were no doubt all thinking for different reasons, but it was her brother who spat out the words at his friend. “You mean to tell me you had ulterior motives for coming here? To check up on ... on—what exactly? One of your baffling archaeological obsessions?”
“It’s hardly baffling. Family history, actually, you know—a bit.”Sheridan huffed. “I’ve told you before we’re descended from Prince Rupert, haven’t I? He served with Mucknell during the Civil War. And why did youthinkI was so eager to join you in the Scillies?”
Having reached the opposite wall, Bram pivoted. “To see your fiancée.”
“I amnothis fiancée!” Libby probably shouldn’t have shifted closer to Oliver when she said it. It just brought Bram’s thundering attention back to her, and it was clearly threatening enough to scare even the kitten. Darling squirmed out of her hold and leaped to the ground, pouncing on a tassel of the rug as if it were a mouse.
Prince Rupert ... Wasn’t he the pirate prince Tas-gwyn had mentioned? She looked over at Oliver, who was clearly piecing the same thing together. Her own mind went frompirate princeto the start of Beth’s unfinished fairy tale.
Once upon a time, there was a princess. She lived on an island of rocks and bones, with no one to keep her company aside from the fairies. All herlife she’d danced with them to the tunes they played on their magical pipes, the tunes echoed by deep voices from the rock itself. One day, however, the musicstopped.
“All right,” Oliver said in that calm voice of his that could bring order to any chaos—at least when it was a chaos of people. “So, Lord Sheridan, you have an interest in information on Prince Rupert of the Rhine and, by extension, Vice Admiral Sir John Mucknell. Is that right?”
Sheridan nodded. “Ever since I learned of the prince as a lad. Who wouldn’t? I mean, a pirate prince! For a relative! I’ve made no secret of it. That is, I’m always on the hunt for more information. In fact—don’t you remember, Telly? I contacted the British Museum years ago, asking if they had anything in their archives that would be of interest. Inspired, actually...” He cleared his throat and stole a glance at Mabena, of all people. “Well, when you hired Moon and said she was from the Scillies, it stirred the memory, you know. Of Prince Rupert. That was when I asked the museum for any information.”
Bram grunted. “And offered to fund any promising ventures, no doubt.”
“Well, archaeologists and historians need to eat, you know. Fundingisrequired.” Sheridan faced Beth again. “It was, oh, two or three months ago that Lord Scofield got in touch. Said—what were his exact words? Oh, never mind. But the gist was that he’d found a lead. You, Miss Tremayne. I expect, anyway. He didn’t give me your full name, of course. Just said a friend of his daughter’s named Elizabeth—that would be Lady Emily. That she—you, I mean—was from the Scillies and had happened upon something.”
Beth’s fingers were white around the chair back, and her cheeks ashen too. “You. You’re the one they sold it to. Give it back! I never gave them permission to sell it.”
Sheridan seemed to know exactly what she was referring to—which was more than Libby could say. He lifted his chin, eyes flashing. “I bought it. It’s mine.”
“It was no better than stolen goods! I asked them to authenticate it as his crest, not to sell it!”
“Wait.” Oliver held up a hand, his brows knit. “What exactly isit?”
Beth turned to him. “The old trinket box that Mother gave me, with the gold-leaf coat of arms embossed on it—you remember it, don’t you? She said it was passed down through the family, left with some great-great-grandmother when her true love, a nobleman, left and went to sea. The Scofields asked me to keep an eye out for anything with Prince Rupert’s coat of arms on it, and they sent a drawing of it. I recognized it at once and sent them the box—tolookat, not to sell.” Here she glared at Sheridan again. “Which I made perfectly clear.”
Libby pressed her lips together. Was that the drawing Darling had found under her bed? She’d not given it a moment’s thought since that night.
Sheridan folded his arms over his chest. “It wasn’t made clear tome. I paid good money—”
“Irrelevant! It was not theirs to sell. And they never even paid me—”
“Actually.” Oliver cleared his throat. “They sent payment last week.”
“Then return it to his lordship, so that he has no argument.”
Never in her life had she seen Sheridan look so near explosion. “Now see here—”
“Enough.” Casek leaned forward, all menacing muscle. “Who really cares about a trinket box? What do you know of Johnnie Rosedew?”
Sheridan at least had the grace to look abashed. “Only the name—from a report. Not from Scofield, but ... ah, I must go further back. You see, I’d been paying another chap to look into a lead in the Caribbean, as that’s where Rupert and Mucknell went for a while. Before Scofield, I mean. That my search there was before, not that they were in the Caribbean before. Though, of course, that wasalsobefore.”
