Page 34 of Lord of Fortune
“Thanks to Kersey.” Lady Stratton spoke for the first time. “He gave it to her.”
“The transaction wasn’t quite that pleasant,” Penn said, prompting Amelia to wonder what had happened and why Lady Stratton would care. And she clearly cared as evidenced by the color leaching from her face. “As I was saying, it won’t be impossible to get it. We simply need to find Foliot.”
Septon released a hollow laugh. “I can tell you exactly where he is—holed up at his estate near Glastonbury. That won’t help you, however. He will never grant you an audience.”
Penn lifted a shoulder. “Everyone has a price.”
Amelia’s head spun. It certainly sounded as though itmightbe impossible to recover the dagger. And if it was fake, did it really matter? “If you’re convinced it’s an imitation and trying to recover it would be dangerous, why bother?”
Penn swiveled his gaze to hers. “Because it belongs to you.”
Warmth spread through her, and she worked to keep a smile from lifting her lips. His words made her ridiculously happy.
“Hold on,” Septon said, pitching forward as he looked sharply toward Penn. “You say it was a fake dagger anyway?”
Penn tossed back the rest of his whiskey and set the empty glass on the table next to his chair. “The carvings on it aren’t more than four hundred years old.”
Septon visibly relaxed, his shoulders sinking back against the chair. “It isn’t fake, for the dagger was made much later than the heart. The story of Ranulf and Hilaria is the only one that contains it, because the dagger was enchanted relatively recent to the midfifteenth century, which is when the White Book of Hergest was compiled.”
Amelia, still quite skeptical, looked at the baron. “So it’s not from the same time period as the Thirteen Treasures, but it counteracts the power of the heart to compel someone to fall in love with someone else.”
“Yes.” Septon turned his whiskey glass in his hand and looked down at the amber liquid briefly before glancing between Penn and Amelia. “Upstairs, you were researching the White Book of Hergest.”
It wasn’t a direct question, but it was still a query. Now would Penn reveal his insistence that the heart was a fake? Amelia quickly had her answer.
Penn rested his hand on the arm of his chair as he pinned Septon with a direct stare. “I believe the heart in the Ashmolean may be an imitation. To prove it, I’m going to find the real one.”
Septon leaned forward and set his glass down on a low table situated in front of the settee with a loud clack. His dark gray eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Penn. “Why would you think that?”
“It’s painted, and I’m not entirely sure it’s tourmaline.”
“Itistourmaline, and it was painted at one point to disguise it from those who sought to steal it.”
“And yet my grandfather stole it anyway.” Amelia hated thinking of it in those terms, but what else could it be but theft?
“How did that even happen without the Order knowing?” Penn asked, suddenly animated.
“Sometimes these things happen,” Septon said evenly. “Despite our best efforts.”
“Or, maybe the Order allowed him to take a fake artifact while the real one is kept somewhere safe.”
Amelia heard the irritation in Penn’s tone but also the note of truth. That actually made sense—if she believed everything she’d learned so far about the Order. And the one thing she accepted as absolute truth was that they couldn’t be trusted—she would never forget what Grandfather had written in his journal.
Septon inhaled deeply before saying, “That’s a rather cynical view.”
“And likely accurate. I’m going to find the real heart.”
Septon shook his head. “If you’re planning to start with the White Book of Hergest, I regret to inform you that it’s been missing for several years.”
“Bloody hell.” Penn exploded out of the chair and stalked behind it. He kept walking, making a circuit to the fireplace and back.
Amelia clenched her hands together and angled herself toward Septon. “Missing?”
“Do you know what the book is, Mrs. Forrest?” he asked. “It was written in the middle of the fifteenth century, much of it by Lewys Glyn Cothi, who studied at the St. John Priory at Carmarthen.”
“Carmarthen is where the heart was found,” Penn said from near the fireplace.
“Yes. I believe your grandfather tracked it there.”
