Page 8 of Most Ardently (Return to Culloden Moor #5)

8

WHAT DOES SHE HAVE IN HER POCKETS?

* * *

L ouis had not planned to follow Violet. After their encounter the previous night, he had intended to wait until their agreed meeting to press her further. But chance had placed him in the guest wing corridor just as she slipped past, her face set with such purpose that curiosity had overwhelmed his better judgment.

He had watched from a distance as she hesitated before the master's chamber, then disappeared inside. Not a maid going about her duties, but a stranger with a secret purpose. The impropriety of it, the audacity had shocked him. Whatever he had imagined she might be searching for, he had not expected such a brazen invasion of Lord Ashmoore's private space.

For twenty minutes, he’d waited in a nearby alcove, half expecting her to emerge at any moment. When Lord Ashmoore himself had appeared, clearly returned early from the morning's activities, Louis had nearly intervened. But Ashmoore had entered his chamber only briefly before departing again, apparently not noticing the intruder.

Now, with Violet captured in his grasp, Louis found himself at a crossroads. The rational course would be to report her immediately. Yet he held back. The sheer gall of what she’d done impressed him as much as it offended him.

“I asked you a question,” he said, maintaining his hold. “What were you doing in his chambers?”

Violet's eyes, her lips twisting with warring emotions, met his directly. “I found what I sought,” she whispered. “Please, let me pass.”

“Not until you tell me what it is you sought. What you took.”

Her hand moved to cover her pocket before she put both her hands together and entwined her fingers. “I took nothing that Fate had not meant for me to find.”

“That is for Lord Ashmoore to decide, is it not?”

“No,” she said, with surprising vehemence. “It is not.”

Louis studied her face, searching for deceit and finding none. Her conviction seemed absolute. Either she was a consummate actress, or she truly believed what she said.

“Show me,” he demanded quietly.

Violet hesitated, clearly weighing her options. They both knew he could simply call out, summon a footman and send for Ashmoore. Her position was precarious.

“Not here,” she said finally. “Not in the corridor where anyone might pass.”

Louis considered this, then nodded curtly. “The study. No one will disturb us there.”

He released one of her arms but maintained his hold on the other, guiding her firmly but discreetly down the corridor, away from the family wing. Violet strode beside him in tense silence, her spine straight, her steps measured despite what must have been considerable fear.

When they reached the study, he ushered her inside and closed the door firmly behind them. The room was larger by day, less intimate, which was helpful given the current situation.

“Now,” Louis said, releasing her at last. “Show me what you found.”

Violet rubbed her arm where he had held it, though he had been careful not to grasp too tightly. She met his gaze with a mixture of defiance and resignation.

“You promised to keep my secret,” she reminded him. “Last night, you gave your word.”

“That was before I found you sneaking out of Lord Ashmoore's private chamber,” Louis countered. “The circumstances have changed considerably.”

“My purpose has not,” Violet insisted. “I told you what I hope to find.”

“It is not in your pocket at this very moment?”

Her hand almost flew to protect that pocket once again, but this time it stayed put.

Louis folded his arms across his chest. “Show me.”

With evident reluctance, Violet slowly reached into her pocket and withdrew a small bundle. She placed it on the small writing desk and opened it. The key that lay inside was unlike anything Louis had ever seen. Golden, ornately crafted, with three jewels of considerable size set into its wrought head. It was clearly valuable, but its purpose was a mystery, at least to him.

“This is what you took from Lord Ashmoore's chamber?” Louis asked, leaning closer to examine it without touching.

“It was hidden in the wall behind the bed. Precisely where my father's clue indicated it would be.”

“What clue?”

She swallowed with difficulty. “He made sure a clue was inscribed on his headstone. I only recently realized it was a clue.”

“Tell me.”

“ If ye'd join his treasured soul, look high within the lord's repose. Lord was not capitalized, you see.”

“Clever you! Well done. But what does this key open? Have you another clue to follow?”

She shrugged. “My father’s journal might tell me, but my mother…had no choice but to sell the contents of his library. It was sold to a man in Perth.”

A sigh escaped him, showing a disappointment that matched the look on her face.

“Again, I ask, why not simply approach Lord Ashmoore directly? Explain your quest and seek his permission to search his house?”

She smiled ruefully. “Explain to the most dangerous man in Britain why I stood on his pillows and tried to destroy his wall? No. I would rather see this to the end, thank you very much. When I have the treasure in my hands, he will be much more amenable. Do you not agree?”

Put that way, her reasoning made a certain sense. Still, the deception troubled him.

“What drives you to such lengths?” he asked. “Why risk discovery, disgrace, perhaps even arrest for trespassing? What makes this treasure so important that you would hazard everything to find it?”

Violet's gaze dropped to the key. Her fingers traced the edge of the odd wrapping. “My sister,” she said softly. “My sister Iris needs my help, desperately. This treasure may be her only hope.”

The sincerity in her voice was unmistakable. Whatever game she played, whatever deception she practiced, her motivation was pure.

“Tell me everything,” he said, and gestured to a chair. “From the beginning. No more half-truths, no more evasions. If I am to help you?—”

“Help me?” Violet looked up sharply.

Louis had not intended to offer his assistance, but how could he resist?

“Miss Cottsweather, tell me all, I beg you.”

She searched his eyes. Whatever she saw there must have reassured her, for she nodded slowly. “Very well,” she said, rewrapping the key and returning it to her pocket. “I shall tell you everything. But not here, not now. I must return to my duties before my absence becomes impossible to explain. Tonight, as we agreed. Midnight, in this room.”

Louis hesitated, then nodded. “Until tonight, then.”

She bobbed. “Lord Astley.”

“Louis,” he corrected. “When we are alone, you may call me Louis.”

Surprise flickered across her face, followed by something warmer. “Louis.”

With that, she slipped from the room. As the door closed behind her, a sudden realization struck him. Violet wasn’t a commoner. And if Harcourt and the Duke of Rochester knew it, they would…

If Harcourt and Stanley knew what was going on, they wouldn’t be encouraging a courtship, they’d demand they take over the hunt for the Jacobite treasure. And if it was there, at Brigadunn, which the key insinuated it was, they would rob Violet of her victory.

No. She needed to be the one to find it, to vindicate her father and save her family. And Louis’ duty, now, was to see that she was free and clear to do so.

He might not have the means to save them himself, but he could do this simple thing for her.