A Heart's Treasure (31 page)

Kenneth was pale. “I always thought it was…was your father.” Xavier made a small, denying noise. “Or one of the blackguards at school, perhaps, like Tippet or Simpson.” Kenneth wiped a hand down his face. “Warfield, I offer my apology—”

“Don’t offer it to me, but to Haddy,” Xavier said, but with no spite. “I’m sorry if this revelation adds to his feelings of blame.” He looked up from the floor then, directly at Genevieve. “It started as a small silence, but I see it couldn’t stay that way. We’re grown men now. It needed to come out. Only now can we truly put it behind us.” He reached up and touched fingers to the fabric over his left eye. “It’s only a scar and a patch, after all.”

For once, the words were more truth than lie.

Her widened eyes met his directly, and he tried not to retreat, not to hide anything from her. If she saw his attraction, or his regrets, or his longings, then so be it. She didn’t blink, or look away, and his heart went right on pounding painfully.

“Terribly sorry,” Kenneth muttered again.

Xavier shook his head, and gave Genevieve a fleeting smile before he looked to see all the others stared at him just as wide-eyed as she. Even Penelope, although of course she’d always known—and loyally kept the secret—of Haddy’s role.

Michael stood, flustered for a moment, but then flashed a practiced smile. “Well. It appears the time for slumber has come,” he smoothed, a lift of his hand signaling the others to rise also. Kenneth stood, taking his lantern by the handle. He moved, placing it on a table near the door to his front salon.

Genevieve walked over to stand directly before a slowly standing Xavier. “You protected Haddy. All this time.”

He gave a tiny, reluctant nod, and came to the sudden conclusion that their locked gazes were unable to say any more without benefit of actual words. “Will you walk with me tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said simply, her eyes moist.

Along with everyone else, they moved to the bottom of the stairs that led up to their readied rooms, and turned to her, a hand rising to brush back a dark lock that had fallen to her shoulder. “Good night, Genny,” he said softly. He was aware of fleeting glances from some of the others.

“Good night, Xavier,” she answered, making his heart pound harder yet when, halfway up, she turned briefly to cast him one last shy smile.

* * *

Xavier sat in the library, a book near at hand but never opened, a single branch of candles on the table near his chair. He’d meant to light Kenneth’s lantern, but had found it missing from the table in the salon, settling for candles he’d found here in the library. He stared at the empty grate—even here in the wilds of northernmost England, no fire was needed tonight—not moving, deep in thought. He couldn’t sleep, didn’t wish to sleep unless it was to bring the morning nearer. In the morning, he and Genevieve would walk the estate, and he would hide from her no longer. He would tell her how very much he wished her to be a part of his life permanently, how he’d come to love her. He would kiss her, not fleetingly as he had only a few mornings ago over the breakfast table, but tenderly and in a manner that spoke louder than words. If she must see beneath his eye patch before she would have him, then see she would. That would be nothing compared to the happiness of years to come, if he was not wrong and if she felt for him what he felt for her.

Tomorrow he’d know. Tomorrow was too far away, and too soon. His life would become the deepest, emptiest burden—or it would start anew in a way he yet wasn’t entirely sure he deserved.

There were noises in the night. Lost to hopes, he paid no mind until it penetrated into his consciousness that a door had opened into the room wherein he sat. He turned in the chair, seeing a murky figure in the shadows of the doorway.

“Xavier?” came Genevieve’s voice.

He rose, crossing to her at once, sudden joy buoying his heart at the sound of his name on her lips. He gathered up her hands and pulled her toward the dim lighting of the candles. “Genny? You are still up?”

She sat in the chair he’d just vacated, not removing her hands from where they still lay enfolded in his, as he sat on the footstool before her. “I couldn’t sleep,” she said, a fact made manifest by the fact she yet wore her daytime gown.

“Neither could I.”

“Xavier?” she questioned again, then went on, her eyes downcast. “Am I wrong in thinking… Are we friends again?”

“Yes,” he answered at once, ardently, squeezing her hands.

“I’m so glad,” she breathed, her eyes rising to meet his.

Their gazes locked in the dim light, silent messages flying between them. Relief. Pleasure. Renewed trust.

He didn’t breathe, and didn’t feel the loss of it. All he knew was she leaned toward him, her eyes soft and shy but unwilling to leave his. He leaned toward her as well, guiding her closer by the pressure of his hands on hers. Closer and closer, so that their mouths were only three inches apart, then two, one, and then his heart somersaulted with elation as she allowed him to press his lips to hers. She didn’t recoil, didn’t cause the contact to be broken, but leaned further into him.

The door opened again, with a bang as it bounced off the wall.

It was Xavier who pulled away first, looking up, startled, not quite sure what had happened. It was only a moment more before he understood that Laura, in her nightrail and a wrapper, had invaded the moment, and that even so Genevieve had gone on kissing him for a moment longer until it had been he who startled from the caress. He almost ignored Laura to lean forward and take another kiss from Genevieve’s lips, but the opportunity was lost when Laura stormed toward them.

“I was looking everywhere for you,” she accused. “She’s gone!” Laura thrust a folded paper at Xavier.

He held Genevieve’s one hand tightly yet as he stood and lifted his other hand to accept the paper. “Gone?” he echoed, wishing Laura would go away. Genevieve stood as well.

“Penelope! She’s gone. This note is addressed to you. I didn’t read it, but I suspect she and Kenneth have eloped.”

“What?” Xavier cried, flipping open the tri-folded paper with one hand to find a filled page of petite handwriting. A playing card fluttered from the folds, landing on the carpet at his feet: the queen of hearts.

“We’re very near Gretna Green, you must know,” Laura said.

Xavier read the note aloud. “‘My dear brother: it pains me to have fooled you this way, but you must be realizing at this moment that Kenneth and I had planned this entire treasure hunt for the sole purpose of eloping to Scotland without raising suspicions or casting doubt on our propriety as we traveled together. We wished nothing to mar our choice to wed. You may recall that after Papa denied my hand to Kenneth, I claimed I would elope with him. Although you thought I was merely raging against fate, you see now I only spoke the truth. The excessive heat of London, most fortuitously, gave us an excellent excuse. It’s but ten miles to Gretna Green from Brockmore, and I have little doubt we shall be married ere you find this note. Please, Xavier, wish us happy. We are most uncertain how we shall get on, as I rather suppose Papa will deny my dowry, and Kenneth’s papa will most probably cut him off entirely, but we are determined to live and love together nonetheless. We shall see you in a day or two, as we plan to return to London to confront our fathers with our news. Your loving sister, Penelope.’”

He looked up, white around the mouth even in the dim candlelight. “When did you find this?” he demanded of Laura.

“Just now. I heard horses and a carriage in the drive, and went to Penelope’s room to see who could be arriving, as she has a much better view of the drive than do I from my room. But, of course, no one was
arriving
at all. I saw Kenneth on the box, driving away. With Penelope not in her bed, let alone her room, and her wardrobe well raided, it didn’t take me long to jump to a conclusion. I was just coming for you when I found the note. You weren’t in your room, and I have now finally found you here,” she said, giving Genevieve a long look that said she was perfectly aware what she’d interrupted.

“I saw it coming, or at least I ought to have done. Their pretenses of indifference grew steadily less believable. But an
elopement
?” Xavier cried, reluctantly releasing Genevieve’s hand. “Manning!” the growled word promised trouble. “That night in Lichfield when they disappeared. I thought they were saying good-bye, but they were further plotting this. The fools. How will they live? Kenneth scarce has a ha’penny in his purse.”

He stepped back, a determined look coming over his face. “No, I must stop them. They are hardly gone. I can catch them easily, on horseback, before the deed is done.” He started to move from the room, then stopped, looking back at Genevieve. “In the morning. We will talk in the morning,” he said, willing her to respond positively, to take no offense that now his duty lay elsewhere.

“Let me go with you,” she offered at once. As he started to shake his head, she went on. “Penelope may need me.”

He hesitated, then nodded. “You may be correct. Or, even perhaps, she will listen to you where she won’t listen to me. Come, change as quickly as you may to a habit, and fetch a cloak. I’ll ready the horses and try to leave the servants out of this tangle. Meet me in the courtyard in ten minutes, no more.”

Genevieve flew to her room, Laura in her wake. She put the other girl to work, helping her out of one set of clothes and into the other.

“Perhaps I should wake the others?” Laura suggested. “We could form a search party.”

Genevieve shook her head. “No, better to bring Penelope and Kenneth back quietly, with no one…knowing…the better…” Her voice trailed away as she stared at Laura, her hands slowing where they buttoned the decorative coat of her riding habit. “Or,” she asked tentatively, “should we? Bring them back? I mean to say, it’s very clear they’ve decided this is what they wish. Xavier is right to be concerned about their futures, for even though Penelope is the daughter of an earl, even for someone so well-born it’s a scandal to elope. She’ll not be all that is acceptable anymore. And to say nothing about the fact they might well starve. Yet, I cannot help but wonder…”
Who am I, to stand in the way of a love that is fighting to exist?

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Laura said. “Of course they must be stopped. Are you going to go with Xavier or not?”

Genevieve stared at her, then rallied herself and pulled her bonnet over her dark hair, securing the ribbon under her chin. “Yes, yes, of course I’m going to go with him. Come, help me with these half-boots.”

She was in the courtyard a minute later, Laura at her side despite the fact she was dressed only in her nightwear. Xavier waited with two horses and, alas, a couple of curious stable hands.

“Damn! You need a chaperone,” Xavier said in a low voice near Genevieve’s ear as he helped her to mount. “Laura—?” he started to turn to where that lady shuffled from one slippered foot to the other, shivering more from alarm than from any chill, but Genevieve put out her hand to him.

“Never mind about that,” she whispered back. “It would put us that much farther behind. Any small scandal concerning me will go no further than Brockmore, which we both know is nowhere near London.”

Laura reluctantly nodded, and Xavier didn’t argue, dismissing the lads before swinging up into the saddle of the other horse.

“I feel sure we’ll come upon the two of them very soon anyway. Ready?” he asked. When Genevieve nodded, he said, “I’m all but certain they’ll have a lighted lantern with them. That will give us something to watch sharp for.” As it had always been in Kenneth’s mind to enact this elopement, it was no small wonder he’d purchased the lantern—some sign to his lady love that their plans were still forthcoming?—and had had it readied against their departure. Looking back on it, their scheme seemed so obvious, Xavier marveled he’d not taken better steps to make it impossible for them to flee together.

They put their heels to the horses, bounding into the night. A bit too late, Laura thought to call out. “Did you bring a pistol? The roads could well be dangerous.”

She received no response beyond the sound of the galloping hooves. “Oh, pray do take care!”
she called even though she knew they’d not hear.

Chapter 23

Love conquers all things: let us too give in to Love.

—Virgil,

Eclogue

Genevieve urged her horse to catch up with Xavier’s. He was a good two lengths ahead of her, protecting her well-being by finding the safest path and letting her follow. There was a goodly amount of moonlight, but the road was rough and their pace was dangerously swift. She tried calling to him, now that they were well beyond Laura’s hearing, but her voice didn’t carry forward to his ears. She urged the horse even more, leaning forward into the wind. She concentrated so on coming alongside of Xavier, that she missed the fact there were other hoof beats that had joined theirs.

“Stand! Stand and deliver!” a voice shouted as a mounted shape came alongside her horse. She looked over, seeing the outline of a man. When she saw the moonlit glint from the pistol in his hand, she had the chilling realization that one of the threatened footpads rode beside her.

She stared dumbly for a moment, but that was a moment too long for his taste, for he reached out and grasped her mount’s rein. A hard jerk set the horse to dancing sideways at too great a pace. Her mount collided with the footpad’s horse, veered sharply to the left, and must have caught a hoof in a hole for suddenly his head went crashing toward the earth, and Genevieve went tumbling over his head, sprawling upon the ground in a bone-jarring and abrupt halt.

She was yet numb for a minute, the wind knocked out of her. The only thing she was sure of, gratefully, was that she wasn’t trapped under her horse.

Everything happened very fast then, nearly too fast for comprehension. She became aware the glinting pistol was pointed down at her, that the man—now she could see he was yet mounted and was masked with a dark kerchief—was demanding goods from her. She’d no breath to tell him she’d nothing to give him, but it didn’t matter, for suddenly the pistol swung up and away. A second later there was a retort and then a mass of horseflesh passed very near her, looking like one gigantic creature with a multitude of legs. She sucked air somehow into her lungs, and rolled away from the flailing hooves, scrambling to her knees. Her bonnet was gone, and her hair fell in her eyes. She dashed the hair back and struggled again for breath; it was growing just a little easier to do so.