Page 12 of Lord of Fortune
Bowen tried to help him, but the older man pushed him off. “Leave me be for now.” He went to the pallet and practically fell upon it.
Amelia looked at Bowen’s injured hand. He’d removed his gloves at some point, and now she could see the damage. “Let me tend to your hand.”
With a nod, Bowen gestured to the door.
Amelia put the jar of salve in her pocket and picked up the basin of water. “Will you grab the toweling? I need to go get fresh water.” She preceded him from the room and went downstairs to empty and refill the basin. When she climbed back up to her room, she found Bowen sitting at the small table, his hand lying palm down atop the scarred wood.
Amelia set the basin of water down and frowned at the cuts scored into his flesh. They’d stopped bleeding long ago but were caked with black-red blood and grime. “Was the rock made of razor blades?”
“Something like that.”
She picked up a scrap of cloth and dipped it into the water. “Where was the dagger?”
“Stashed in a hole. It was a bit above my head, so I had to reach for it, and I couldn’t see. The passage was rather narrow at one point—that’s where I encountered the razor blades.”
Amelia had to admit she couldn’t have obtained it on her own, not the way he described the endeavor. Gently, she began to clean his wounds. “How did you know where to find it?”
Her grandfather hadn’t given her the specific location—just that it was in a cave near Burrington. He’d been too confused in his last months, and unfortunately, he hadn’t told her about it until then. Why had he kept it secret?
Bowen eyed her while she cleaned his hand. He winced as she worked to scrub the last of the blood off. “I’m not inclined to reveal my sources, but in this case, I suppose you deserve to know.”
“How magnanimous of you.” She immediately regretted the sarcastic comment. “My apologies. I should be grateful to know whatever you care to share.” She spread salve over his scrapes and cuts, careful not to cause him discomfort.
“And I am grateful for your ministrations.”
“I should also thank you for your assistance with that repulsive brigand earlier.”
“Whatever our differences, I would never allow you to be assaulted or degraded.” He delivered the statement with a sincerity that made it sound like a vow.
Their eyes met for a moment, and something flashed between them. Something that made Amelia’s belly pitch in a way it hadn’t in quite some time. She refocused her attention on his hand.
Bowen cleared his throat. “I work with a gentleman at Oxford—his name is Carlton Burgess.”
She paused in reaching for another bandage and blinked at him. “I know him. Nothim, but his name. My grandfather asked me to write to him after he died.” Realization dawned in her mind, and with it came a mix of frustration and sadness. “Grandfather asked me to forward a letter to him.” It had been sealed, so she was unaware of the contents, nor had Grandfather revealed them to her.
Bowen had the grace to give her a look of sympathy. “That letter included the location of the dagger.”
“That’s how you found it.”
“It’s what I do.” He gazed up at her, his blue eyes bright and vivid in the light from the lantern on the table. “I go out and find things of historical importance.”
She wrapped the bandage around his hand. “Did my grandfather know that? Did he ask for you to find the dagger?”
“No. He asked Burgess to find it and keep it safe.”
That made no sense. “But he asked me to do the same! When did he write that letter? Was there a date?”
His eyes flickered with a bit of surprise. “You’re rather astute, aren’t you? Burgess and I noticed that detail because it was dated March 1809.”
She felt defeated. “So long ago?” She shook her head. “And he never told me about it until just before he died. He was out of his mind by then, really. I wasn’t entirely sure I believed therewasa dagger, but he was so insistent. I had to at least look. I was ready to give up—today was the last day I planned to search the caves.”
“It was our luck that you happened upon us?” he asked.
“I’m afraid so.” She turned and went to her bed where she perched on the edge.
“And both of our ‘luck’ that those brigands came along when they did. I wonder howtheylearned of the dagger?”
“I’d like to know that too.” She had a suspicion but wasn’t sure she wanted to share it with Bowen. They’d reached some sort of truce, but they weren’t pursuing the same thing. He wanted to prove the heart was a fake, to discredit something that had defined her grandfather’s life. And she wanted to prove the opposite. Yet with each revelation today, she began to doubt her grandfather. If he’d kept the dagger from her for so long, what else hadn’t he told her?
