Page 16 of Every Duke Has His Thorn
Her father brought her along the next day to his meeting with the duke, and they returned the family history.
The duke frowned upon seeing her but didn’t remark on her presence.
“My daughter may have found the reason your former steward was intent on inspecting the hall so thoroughly.”
Marina briefly recounted the passage in the chronicle of the hall's history about the hidden treasure.
After she finished speaking, the duke asked, “What would prompt Mr. Sparks to search for a treasure he must have known about for years?”
She held back a smile. Perhaps the duke was more than a pretty face.
“Have you heard anything about the man after he left Barton Hall, Your Grace?” she asked.
The duke shook his head. “He hasn’t been seen since. Most of his belongings were left behind in his haste to leave the estate.”
“Perhaps he left a clue behind as to where he might be or why he was searching for the treasure?” she asked thoughtfully.
The two men in the room looked at her.
She shrugged. “There has to be a reason Mr. Sparks started looking for the treasure.”
You could have knocked her over with a feather when the duke replied, “Any property he left on the estate was boxed up. The boxes are in a storage room in the same building as the steward’s office.”
Not for a moment had she expected the duke to take her seriously.
“One of the footmen can direct you to the storage cupboard. If you find any clues to explain Mr. Spark’s strange behavior or any indication of where he may have gone, please let me know.”
After her father updated the duke on the ongoing restorations, she and her father exited the library. Once in the entrance hall, her father asked a footman to show them to the storage room the duke had mentioned.
The butler stepped forward. “The room is locked and only I and the housekeeper have a key. I’ll see you to the storage room.”
They followed Winston out of the house, across the courtyard, and down a path to the long, low building which contained the steward’s office, and the servants’ quarters. The butler unlocked a door to a chamber full of boxes and several pieces of furniture.
“These three boxes belong to Mr. Sparks,” the butler said, waving a hand at wooden crates stacked to one side.
Once Winston excused himself and left the room, her father unstacked the boxes, placing them side by side.
One crate held a coat and books, the next, pants and shirts. Marina searched every pocket she came across, to no avail. The last box contained shoes, boots, and slippers.
“There’s nothing here,” she said dejectedly.
Her father sighed. “It was never a surety, my dear.”
She put her hands inside the shoes and boots and found nothing. Searching the pair of slippers, she discovered a folded piece of paper in one of the slippers. The document was yellowed and delicate.
Marina unfolded the paper, sure she would find a receipt or a note. Instead, a poem caught her eye.
“Father! I found something!”
She silently read the verses, her father looking over her shoulder.
“This must be the reason Mr. Sparks was looking for treasure in the hall.”
“I agree,” Marina replied excitedly. Her father restacked the boxes as she studied the poem. “We should show this to the duke.”
When they returned to the hall, the butler informed them that His Grace had departed for the village. Her father proceeded to the dining room to check on the renovation work while Marina walked to the dower house.
She wrote out a copy of the poem before storing the original in a drawer of the writing desk in the drawing room for safekeeping. She would join her father in the hall, tomorrow was soon enough to speak with the duke about the poem.
