Valiant (Gentlemen of the Order #3) - Adele Clee Page 0,69
long carriage ride. Tomorrow we journey to Highwood.”
Chapter 17
Having spent the night in bed, facing each other while still fully clothed, talking about things Evan would never dare mention to his friends, let alone a woman, they both slept on the journey to Bedfordshire. But Vivienne’s insistence that Mrs McCready and Buchanan travel with them was the main reason Evan had closed his eyes.
He had not sent word to Highwood, informing them of his impending arrival. Consequently, the air in the grand hall thrummed with nervous tension. Mrs Elkin, like most experienced housekeepers, spoke with calm aplomb when firing instructions to the staff. Maids curtsied and footmen bowed before hurrying to attend to their tasks.
“While the maids prepare the rooms, perhaps you’d like to take tea in the drawing room, sir. I’ve taken the liberty of putting Miss Hart in the east wing, her companion in the chamber next door.”
“Thank you, Mrs Elkin.”
Drat! His apartment was in the west wing, hence the reason the housekeeper had placed an unmarried woman far from his reach.
“I shall speak to Cook, sir, prepare menus for the coming days and have them brought to you within the hour.”
Evan smiled. The woman wanted to know how long he planned to stay but would not ask directly. “Excellent. We will dine at seven o’clock. That should allow a little more time to prepare. No need to go to too much trouble as we must head back to London in a day or two.”
The next few hours passed quickly. While Vivienne took a nap, Evan met with his steward, Mr Bradmore, who wished to take advantage of his master’s sudden appearance and discuss the plans for the new tenant cottages. The steward would have rambled on about estate business all afternoon had Evan not promised to return in a week.
Under the guise of taking Miss Hart on a tour of the gardens, Evan escorted Vivienne on the mile walk to the memorial grounds—a row of depressing mausoleums housing the graves of Daniel and Livingston Sloane, amongst others.
“Is Lady Boscobel buried here?” Vivienne glanced at the weathered tombs, pointed to the only one with a bouquet of hothouse flowers in a stone vase to the left of the entrance.
Evan nodded. “My great-grandmother died at the grand old age of ninety-four, the year after I was born. Mrs Elkin changes the flowers weekly as a mark of respect.”
“Which one is Livingston’s resting place?”
“The one guarded by the statue of a wanderer.” He gestured to the figure of a robed man clutching a staff, perched above the entrance to a gloomy mausoleum. “Livingston and Maria are buried there.”
“It doesn’t seem right to disturb his grave.”
No. Evan had been plagued by similar thoughts all morning. “It won’t hurt to enter the tomb. All the clues point here—the painted vignette of the house, Gray’s poem of death, the compass leading us northeast of London. Equally, the mausoleum lies northeast of the house. We’ve every reason to believe this is where he hid the treasure.”
Vivienne stared pensively at the entrance, lost in a sad, wistful dream. “While it must be obvious to you that finding any treasure would ease my financial burden, it was never about the money.”
Evan closed the gap between them. The need to hold her and kiss away her melancholy took command of his senses. He clasped her upper arm and drew her around to face him.
“It’s never been about the money for me.”
It started as an amusement, a way to ease his boredom. It started as a need to prove his worth to a deceased relative he’d never met, to correct misconceptions, to right a wrong. And yet none of those things mattered now.
She laughed and glanced at her surroundings. “No, clearly you have no need of pirate gold. Your sense of duty brings you here. In that respect, you possess a quality your ancestor lacked.”
He took a moment to consider her words.
Duty? He had no loyalty to the man who had them chasing their tails. Livingston had lived by his own code, a code some might consider selfish. Despite being born into privilege, he turned his back on his family. Perhaps his return to Highwood, his desire to have his mother raise his child, was a way of correcting his mistakes. The prodigal son returning to the fold.
“The irony is I pride myself on the fact I avoid commitment, and yet I stand here as master of this estate, a commitment I take seriously. I stand here as