Page 26 of Every Duke Has His Thorn
“Miss Davies, can you bring the lantern closer?”
She did so, and he could see an old leather boot inside the sabaton. He pulled the greave backward enough to get his hand inside the leather boot. It was empty.
He replaced the greave and repeated the process on the left side of the suit of armor. He felt a piece of fabric inside the sabaton-covered boot and pulled out a frayed pale pink ribbon.
“How disappointing,” Sir Joseph said with a long sigh. “Just some rubbish.”
Miss Davies clicked her tongue. “It’s not rubbish! The poet describes a ribbon of pink in the next stanza.”
Preston pushed the greave back into place. The young woman stepped back, placing the lantern back on the dresser, and her father released his hold on the suit of armor.
Miss Davies read the next stanza of the poem aloud:
The ribbon should be part of the title,
A pretty bright color of pink,
Part of a pastoral scene,
The location. Just think.
Chapter Eleven
Marina didn’t have the slightest idea what the pink ribbon might refer to. She looked at the duke, and he was shaking his head.
“Do you have a theory, Miss Davies?”
She shook her head. “I wish I did.”
They both glanced at her father, who merely shrugged. The duke put the ribbon inside his copy of the poem. He picked up the lantern and asked, “Shall we return upstairs?”
The duke led the way, followed by her father, who shut the chamber door behind them. When they were back in the central corridor on the ground floor, the duke handed the lantern to a footman in the entrance hall.
“I appreciate your assistance searching the armor.” He nodded toward a front window. “Thank goodness the rain looks to have ceased. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Sir Joseph. If either of you think of what the clue about the pink ribbon means, do let me know. Good afternoon.”
Once the duke was gone, she looked at her father. “Do you think work on the hall can resume tomorrow?”
“If the rain holds off. Shall we return to the dower house? You can write up the notes you made about the paneling in the entrance hall.”
Once outside, they skirted several puddles. Thank goodness for the thick gravel in the courtyard, or the area might have resembled a pond.
As Marina looked over her notes with a cup of tea in the drawing room, she couldn’t stop thinking about the pink ribbon. What was its significance?
Concentrating on the clue didn’t stop her remembering what it had felt like to stand so close to the duke. A rush of warmth went through her limbs, startling her. She closed her eyes a moment, swearing she could still smell the musky scent of his cologne, recalling how his deep voice poured over her like a warm blanket.
“Are you all right, my dear?” her father asked. “You look quite flushed.”
Her eyes flew open. “Just lost in thought.” She smiled weakly. “I do believe I feel a migraine coming on. Excuse me, Father. I’ll see you at dinner.”
* * * * *
The next day after his morning ride and a hearty breakfast of sausage and eggs, he took a hot bath. As his valet dressed him, Preston chuckled to himself.
“Your Grace?”
“Just thinking, Thompson.”
Perhaps Miss Davies had solved the next clue. What did one wear to decipher clues to a treasure? In the company of an attractive and outspoken miss, no less.
