Page 105 of To Treasure an Heiress
“To you?” Beth laughed. “I think not. And, frankly, we’ll be advising the authorities that they had better do a thorough investigation of each and every trustee before we will turn over anything.”
Scofield’s nostrils flared. He flicked a glance over the group, his attention snagging somewhere to the right and then returning toBeth. Who had caught his eye? Mr. Dawe with his hunting piece? Or perhaps his sister?
Poor Em. She’d said nothing during the entire sail back to Tresco, but the way her fingers had twisted together spoke volumes.
Her father hadn’t even looked her way, not once. Beth had to wonder if the ignoring struck even deeper than a reprimand would have.
“You seem to be laboring under the mistaken assumption, Miss Tremayne, that you have a choice here. Give me whatever you found!”
She opened her mouth to argue again, but Sheridan stepped forward, hand held out. “Will you please calm down, Scofield? Trust me, you don’t even want what we have in the chest there.” He motioned toward the drawing room.
She sent him a questioning scowl that he didn’t even look down at her to see. What was he doing? He had to know that Scofield would charge into the room—which he did. But there was nothing in there to appease him, nothing at all except...
She sucked in a breath and grabbed Sheridan’s arm. “Theo,no.” Not all his collection! The drawing room was where Enyon had deposited his trunk the other day, the one his sisters had brought from the castle. Beth had laughed a bit when she’d seen it—had even joked that it looked like a bunch of rubbish someone had just dug up in the back garden. Rusted pieces of this and that, moldy books from the seventeenth century that Rupert had supposedly once owned, a few of his inventions.
Treasure, in Sheridan’s eyes. And so in hers. Treasure that he couldn’t mean to just hand over to Nigel Scofield.
He’d found it. She heard the trunk’s lid crash against something, and his curses scalded the air as she hurried into the room.
A flying book nearly hit her in the head. Would have, had Sheridan not snatched it from the air two inches from her face with a growl. “Now see here! Gently! This stuff is destined for a museum, you know!”
“Not ours, it isn’t. Rubbish, all of it.” Something else went flying, though Beth couldn’t even make out what it was. It landed with a loud clatter, though, and a sickening crack. “There should be silver. Gold. Jewels!”
All things easy enough to skim a bit off the top of. Was that what he’d been intending to do? Or was it the fame they’d bring that he sought?
“Are you mad? Those things are priceless!” Sheridan strode toward his chest.
They were, and he had to have known that Scofield would attack the contents. But he’d offered it up anyway, to protect the secret of the other find.Theirfind. Hers. That was the sort of man he was, though. He’d give up his own for theirs together.
Even though for all they knew, the chest was just a cruel joke on Mucknell’s part, meant to lead people astray. It could be filled with lead shot. Rocks. Rubble. They didn’t know—the lock had held tight, and they didn’t want to break open the wood there on the deck of theAdelle. They’d resort to a pry bar only if Senara’s key didn’t do the trick.
Scofield growled and flung another book. “It’s junk! Only you would care about this nonsense, Sheridan.”
Sheridan had made a lunge for the book but missed. “Not true. Anyone would. Who had a bit of culture, I mean.”
With a kick to the trunk that made Beth wince on Sheridan’s behalf, Scofield pivoted back around and pointed a finger at Sheridan. “If you’re keeping anything from me—”
“I beg your pardon.” Oliver had come in without her even realizing it and stood now in that collected way of his, his face calm and intent. “But you are inmyhouse, sir. Destroyingmylord’s property. After threateningmyguests. And given that we in this room are all well aware of how you first threatened my fiancée a month ago, when you mistook her for my sister, pray do not think we have any patience left for your antics. Get out this instant, and be glad I’d rather be rid of you than call in the constable. Becausewhile I may not be able to prove that you meant to harm my sister two weeks ago, I certainlycanprove that you just trespassed into my home and began manhandling my employees and destroying priceless artifacts that are not yours.”
Beth’s lips parted in shock. Never in her life had she heard her brother scoldanyoneso harshly.
Scofield couldn’t have known that, but he clearly heard the seriousness in Oliver’s voice, or read it in his posture. He stilled, looked once more into the trunk, and then stomped over to Sheridan. “Don’t think I believe for a minute that this is all there was in there. I don’t know what you’ve done with the rest, but I’ll find it.”
“Will you?” Beth let her mouth quirk up. “Funny, sir—thus far you’ve not found a blessed thing without someone else doing the work for you. And I’m afraid we won’t be helping you anymore.”
For a moment, she thought he meant to strike her or give her a taste of that high kick he’d knocked Sheridan flat with back in July. But instead he spat out a few words that singed her ears and stormed back out. The door slammed a moment later, though whether he pulled it shut or Senara sent it home after him, she didn’t know.
Her shoulders sagged the moment he was gone. “Theo. Your collection!”
“It’s all right,” his lips said, while his eyes looked mournfully on the book splayed open on the floor, its binding looking a good deal worse for the wear. “Necessary. Only a few things—blast it all.” He scooped up the book and caressed its now-detached spine. “What sort of monster treats a book that way?”
“An odious one.” She wasn’t sure why that earned her so quick a smile, but she wasn’t about to question it. She moved to his side, covered his hand with her own, and rested her cheek against his shoulder. “I know what will cheer you up, though. Just as soon as we know he’s left Tresco.”
Sheridan chuckled. “You know, Beth. You do know how to sweet-talk a fellow.”
Sheridan stepped back out of St. Nicholas’s without adequate words to put to the wonder in his heart. It was ... they’d ... and then there was ... He settled for a sigh, one that he first gathered in slowly and then let out long and patiently.
He’d searched for many treasures in his life. Found plenty, though the world, much like Nigel Scofield, didn’t always agree with him on that. But never one like this.
