Page 43

Like the measles, love is most dangerous when it comes late in life.

LORD BYRON

The next morning, Molly brought Lord Hawthorn’s invitation for horseback riding. There was no mention of his other guests. Father eagerly accepted before my nerves betrayed me.

“I don’t ride horseback,” I had protested.

He simply smiled. “It’s the perfect chance for you to face your fear of horses, and you’ll get a much-needed break from the fields. At least let Mr. Harrington inspect the gladiator mosaics and tour the abbey, since you believe it was built with stones from the villa.”

Would we encounter the Dilettanti? I hoped not. All my fervent wishes to have their acknowledgment had fled in light of their behavior.

I selected a dark green riding garment, slightly snug but suitable. I also found an extra tin of salve to present as a token of gratitude.

Rafe’s defense of me the previous day led to Mr. Harrington’s apology, and he silenced Beaumont and his companion, who left sullen and dust covered. Even Mr. Perry chuckled quietly at their retreat. I appreciated Mr. Perry’s determination to retain his land more than ever.

After descending the stairs, I found Father and Mr. Harrington deep in conversation. Mr. Harrington beckoned me excitedly to the writing desk in the drawing room.

“Miss Littleton, I believe this will encourage you. Your father and I discovered a motto inserted into the ring band. Amor vincit omnia. Love conquers all. Eh gad, but I believe this ring must have seen quite a fight and been pulled off in a moment of life or death. No man would abandon so readily a jewel such as this. It is fit for a senator!”

“Remarkable,” I agreed slowly, taking the ring in hand to examine the faint etchings. The men stared at me, as if trying to pierce through my carefully constructed expression.

But why had the ring been discarded for centuries?

The inscription felt like a cruel jest. Did love truly conquer all?

Once, I had believed my love for my brother would be enough to save him.

Instead, it had only deepened the wound within my heart.

Swallowing my emotions, I swiftly returned the ring to Mr. Harrington, who eagerly reclaimed it, his eyes gleaming with fascination.

Father straightened. “Letters can wait. We have a visit with Lord Hawthorn this morning to review his mosaic.”

“Splendid idea,” Mr. Harrington cried as he removed his glasses. “We are all invited?”

“Just the four of us,” Father said. He cast a calculating look in my direction. “Bridget, you look especially well this morning.”

If I didn’t know better, I might have thought Father had an unusual sparkle in his eyes.

Rafe welcomed us in the entrance hall, fielding Mr. Harrington’s questions about the twelfth-century abbey.

Mr. Harrington begged for a tour. As we walked through the main rooms, the secretary marveled at the architecture. “Hawthorn Abbey is a rare jewel and worth fighting for. I wish you success with your orchards.”

Rafe glanced at me, his expression unreadable. I wondered what he might be thinking. When we stopped in the library, I had a moment alone with him as my father pointed out favorite tomes tucked away in the massive shelves.

“I brought you something,” I said as I opened my reticule and pulled out the vial of salve.

He took it, bemused. “I am grateful. Despite the smell, your tincture worked wonders.”

“Don’t tease,” I said with a grin as I ran a finger across one of the leather-bound books. “There are far worse remedies to fall prey to.”

“There are. My housekeeper’s daughter suggested devil’s dung.”

Laughter bubbled up, drawing my father’s attention. He grinned when he caught my glance and directed Mr. Harrington to another bookshelf farther away from Rafe and me.

“No man wants to smell of rotten eggs. However, I am grateful for your defense yesterday. This is but a small token of my thanks.”

“Think nothing of it,” he said with a hint of a smile.

“But I do value it,” I protested, now serious.

“I was terrified my work might be all for naught. As hard as we women try to better ourselves and become more than a woman sitting at a hearth stitching samplers, Mr. Beaumont is correct. There are some areas, some societies and professions, that remain forbidden to us no matter how hard we strain for them. To have your support meant...” I inhaled, afraid to lay my soul bare. “It meant a great deal.”

The little muscle jumped within his jaw.

How grim I had originally thought him, but I no longer viewed him in the same light.

Would he consider Mr. Perry’s offer of a partnership?

Could I persuade Rafe not to rent his land?

Of course, the gladiator mosaic belonged to him, but if he rented the abbey as well, I would lose access to it.

Liar! my mind cried. You fear you would likely not see him again if he left the valley.

“You are not alone.” His voice dropped to a gravelly note. “And while my experiences cannot compare with yours, it is a painful thing to long for so much more and find yourself excluded, while others feast at a table you cannot join.”

“You lived here as a child, but the memories seem to pain you,” I said, hoping he would share more of his past.

He nodded. We drifted toward a more private section of the library, an alcove with a window whose velvet curtains were drawn back to let in the brilliant afternoon light.

“The abbey held few happy recollections for me,” he said. “Until now.”

Under the warmth of his regard, I felt a flutter of pleasure. Had he found joy in the valley at long last, even despite the devastating hail? Could he find renewed purpose watching over his tenants?

Rafe palmed the back of his neck. “My mother left a terrible marriage and took me with her. I didn’t understand it then, but she hid us from my father.

My mother’s family had never approved of the marriage and so we lived a quiet life, tucked away in a relative’s cottage.

I grew up thinking the worst of my uncle and father.

My father never changed, but my uncle? Your father seems to think he did, and I’ve found your father to be of sound judgment. ”

I looked over my shoulder to see Father with Mr. Harrington, a bittersweet pride swelling within my chest. Gratefulness that the man I had idolized as a child had such a profound impact on the old viscount and the new. And sorrow that I had missed so much of his attention myself.

“He will find your regard encouraging.”

“ You have encouraged me,” Rafe said after a pause. “The Miss Littleton I’ve encountered lets nothing stop her no matter the obstacles.”

A smile broke free of me as a shiver of excitement returned, recalling my previous discussion with Mr. Harrington. I wanted to share with Rafe the tremendous discoveries.

“If you must know, we have encountered something monumental. A gold ring with a ruby.” I shared the motto with him, along with the Christian symbol on the doll.

“Truly?” His eyes widened with awe. “A Christian symbol within this valley? Within a pagan home, no less?”

I nodded. “I was as surprised as you. Historians often claim Rome was one of the darkest empires despite its advancements.”

“And yet, you found a spark of light in that darkness.”

“It may be your land, Lord Hawthorn, but these discoveries belong to you and Mr. Perry and me. Without your men stumbling across the gladiators, I might never have encountered the grave and the doll. But this—all of this is something we’re both part of now.”

I had no desire to pressure him any longer, especially when he had done so much in his defense of me. But I longed to support him in some manner. Would he consider the idea of joining with Mr. Perry and me?

“Rafe,” he corrected with his lips curved slightly. “And it would have been nothing but Greek to us if not for you.”

“ Julius Caesar , act one, scene two. For your information, the Romans were bilingual, speaking both Latin and Greek. It was the monks of the Middle Ages who labeled anything they couldn’t understand as Greek.

It amazes me that for all these centuries a message lay buried in the dirt.

” Not the one I was seeking, but perhaps the one I needed most.

“Shakespeare was a clever man.” His smile faded and his brow furrowed deeply. “You found jewelry, after all.”

I nodded. “It’s not the gold ring that excites me, though. It’s the story waiting to be uncovered. Mr. Harrington believes the ring fell to the ground during a tussle. Imagine if someone really pulled the ring off a man’s finger?”

“You are indeed a romantic, for all your pursuit of reason and science,” he murmured as he leaned against the window frame while folding his arms across his chest. “Yes, I think you would find a tale tucked away in those tiled floors.”

But the warmth pooling within me dissipated when he frowned again. “Bridget, you must take care. Especially now that someone has stolen the mosaic. I don’t want to see you or your father hurt, nor Mr. Perry or his daughter. I have a safe in my office. If you require it, all you need to do is ask.”

“I will ask Mr. Perry if I can bring the ring tomorrow,” I promised.

My father pulled out yet another tome and showed it to Mr. Harrington. Both exclaimed over it, but my attention wandered when Rafe’s shoulder brushed against mine. Warmth rushed to my cheeks, fingers, and toes.

Rafe fingered my tin in his large hands. “I was surprised you wished to ride today, considering your impression of Chaucer that first night you met him.”

“I’m not riding him, am I?” Alarm shot through me at the idea of mounting that enormous beast.

He set my gift on a table beside a stack of papers and an inkpot. “No, something far tamer. And smaller. Annabelle won’t provide a thrilling chase. If anything, she’ll be content to munch on the grass and barely break into a trot. Have you ridden before?”