Beyond Compare (16 page)

Thisbe straightened, something about his tone alerting her. “And did you?”

He nodded. “I did.”

His announcement was met with a babble of voices from his family. It was Rafe’s voice that finally rose above the others, “Well, go get it, boy, and show us.”

Con took off, with Alex on his heels, and returned a few moments later, carrying the ivory box. His father took it from him and checked it anxiously.

“I didn’t hurt it,” Con protested.

“All right,” the duke said, putting the box on the table. “Now show us what you did.”

“I looked and looked all over the box,” Con began, enjoying having an audience. “I thought that the secret to opening it must be in the carvings somewhere, because it would be easy to hide a crack in all those lines. So I got out my magnifying glass and looked it over, and sure enough, I found something. Only it wasn’t a line, it was a hole—two holes, to be exact.” He pointed with a stubby forefinger to a carving just above the
diamond. “What you have to do is take a wire and put it into these holes.”

He pulled out two short, thin wires from his shirt pocket and carefully inserted each one into a small hole in one of the engravings. Gently, he wiggled and twisted the wires until at last there was a barely audible click.

“That unlocks it. And now it opens right up.”

He put his thumbs on either side of the holes and lifted, and the domed lid went up. Everyone leaned forward to see what lay inside. Kyria drew in a sharp breath.

Inside the box was a piece of faded purple cloth, frayed and weatherbeaten. Gold threads glinted from the depths of the purple, and there were several small gems sewn onto it, as well as a few more gems lying loose in the bottom of the box. On one edge of the cloth was a curve of gold leaf, rather like a small part of a letter.

“Sweet Lord,” Rafe breathed. “Constantine’s battle standard.”

“I
s it?” Alex asked. “That’s what Con and I thought when he opened it this morning, but I wasn’t sure.”

“It certainly fits the description,” Kyria said. “I don’t suppose we can know for sure, but it seems very likely to me.”

“It’s amazing that the cloth could survive this long, isn’t it?” the duchess asked, leaning over to study the cloth, carefully linking her hands behind her back like a child to avoid the temptation to touch it.

“Some might say it qualifies as a miracle,” Rafe said.

“It does seem unusual, but of course, there are the mummies excavated in Egypt.”

“But surely they were specially treated.”

“True, but the arid climate helped, as well. And this was sealed in a box—obviously one that was quite difficult to open, so very little air got at it,” Broughton said. “And we don’t know where it was kept all these years. It could very easily have been in a very dry climate.”

“However it was preserved, I think it’s quite likely that this is the holy standard Dr. Jennings told us
about,” Kyria said. “Either that, or it’s a very clever fake. I think it would be incumbent on us to find out more about it, don’t you?”

“Yes, my dear, I am sure you are right,” her father agreed. “I think a trip to London is in order. You should show this to Ashcombe. You should probably talk to someone at the British Museum, too.”

“I think it’s also clear that this box is dangerous,” Rafe said. “After what happened this afternoon, it would be foolhardy not to assume that Mr. Kousoulous was killed because someone was after the box. They are obviously still after it. The constable can lock up those two who invaded this house, but that won’t stop whoever hired them. He will just find someone else to do his dirty work, or do it himself.”

“That is why we need to find out who that someone is and stop him,” Kyria said.

“But how are you going to do that?” Thisbe asked. “You have no idea who hired those men.”

“No, but there is that tavern where they were to meet him. We can go there and see who shows up. And there is Mr. Habib, who was so eager to buy the reliquary from me. I think it’s very likely that he had something to do with it. I mean, he knew the box was here.”

“But, Kyria, my dear, I don’t like the thought of you investigating this,” the duchess said, frowning. “That could put you into even more danger.”

“That is why I am going with her to London.” Rafe’s voice was firm.

This time Kyria did not make a fuss about Rafe’s going along with her. After this afternoon’s events, she was quite willing to have the added protection. “Once we get to London, Reed will be there, as well. And we shall warn the servants to be on guard against anyone
trying to get into the house.” She paused, then added, “Besides, these people, whoever they are, will think that the box is still here, at least for a while. If anyone is in danger, it will be everyone here at Broughton Park, not us traveling to London.”

“Con and I can come, too!” Alex offered eagerly. “We’ll help you.”

“You most certainly will not,” their mother said sternly.

“But why not?” Con argued. “We haven’t a tutor, so—”

“You will have before long,” the duchess countered. “I have already written the agency and told them to find me new applicants. I am sure that I will be interviewing them shortly, and in the meantime, you can keep to your studies with Thisbe and Desmond.”

“But Mr. McIntyre taught us a lot of bang-up things, and—”

“It was very nice of Mr. McIntyre to do so, but it is not his job. And I have no intention of exposing the two of you to danger, as well. It is bad enough that Kyria will be there.”

“But we can help!” Alex protested. “We helped today, didn’t we? And Con is the one who figured out the secret to that box. We could probably help a lot.”

“Besides—” Con took a different tack “—Kyria just said they’ll think the box is here at Broughton Park, so we would actually be in more danger if we stayed here than if we go to London with Kyria.”

The twins continued to plead their case, but their mother was adamant, and finally they subsided. The duke returned the reliquary to its spot in the display case and locked it, and everyone began to file out of the room.

Kyria started toward her room to find her maid and start her packing for the imminent trip, but Rafe reached out and put his hand on her arm, stopping her.

“I want to talk to you,” he said, his expression serious. “Whatever you said to your mother, I think it will be dangerous. Once we start poking our noses into this, they will know we’re in London and they’re likely to figure that the box is there, too.”

Kyria sighed, sure that Rafe was going to try to stop her from going, or at least from participating in any investigation. He would assure her that he would take care of it all and that she needn’t worry. She had heard similar sorts of things from her admirers many times before, when she wanted to go somewhere or do something that wasn’t considered proper for a lady. She could have said the words for him: “A gently reared lady like yourself doesn’t know and, indeed—” this was usually said with a deprecatory smile “—it is better that you don’t know the things that could happen to a woman.”

She crossed her arms and waited for his words, wishing that she had not exhibited such relief when he had come tearing into the room to help them. It had been a mistake to admit that she had wanted him to come rescue them; men tended to take that sort of thing as a sign that women were not equipped to handle a situation.

“So I thought that it would be best if you carried a gun,” Rafe went on.

His words were so far from what she had expected that Kyria simply stared at him for a moment, speechless.

“Have you ever shot a gun?”

“No,” Kyria admitted, still somewhat stunned.

“I can give you lessons this afternoon, if you’d like. I think it would be best if you carried the derringer as we travel. It’s not much use at a distance, but it’s light and easy to carry in your pocket or your reticule. And there’s not really much question of aiming. Just point it at their middle and shoot. But inside the house, I think it would be best if you had a .45 close at hand, in case of intruders. We can practice on that this afternoon.” He stopped and looked at her, puzzled. “Why are you smiling?”

Kyria shook her head. “Nothing. It’s just…that wasn’t what I expected you to say. I have never had a man offer to arm me before.”

He grinned. “Well, it’s probably not a necessity at a London soiree.”

“No. But I have found in the past that a man’s usual response is that it would be much better if I simply stayed at home.”

He chuckled. “Oh, but that wouldn’t do at all. Then how would I get to travel to London with you?”

“So you aren’t going to try to persuade me not to go to that tavern tomorrow night?” Kyria asked.

“Oh—as to that, I don’t know. The tavern could be tricky.”

“I can carry my gun,” Kyria pointed out.

“I’m not sure that would be enough. I have a suspicion that that fellow’s tavern is probably filled with cutthroats and thieves. I don’t relish the prospect of our having to shoot our way out of there. But that isn’t the worst problem with you being there. A woman like you in a place like that would be a sure sign that something’s wrong. If I were meeting someone there for nefarious purposes, I’d light out of there as soon as I spotted you.”

Kyria rolled her eyes at him. “As if
you
would not be just as out of place there as I.”

He shrugged. “I might have to dirty myself up a bit, find some rough clothes.” He grinned. “I can look pretty despicable.”

“I can disguise myself, too,” Kyria shot back.

“Women don’t go to that kind of place.”

“I’ll go as a lady of the night.”

An image of Kyria in a gaudy, low-cut dress, her breasts almost spilling out of the top, flashed into Rafe’s mind, and lust surged through him. He looked away quickly lest she read in his face what he was thinking.

“I would prefer not to have to fend off your customers, if you don’t mind,” he said shortly.

“And I don’t want to be left out of it,” Kyria replied stubbornly. “I have just as much reason for wanting to find out who this man is as you have—more, really, since the reliquary was sent to me.”

She sighed. For a moment, when Rafe had offered to teach her to shoot to protect herself, instead of demanding that she stay out of the way, she had felt a spurt of hope that he was different from other men, that he would not demand to wrap her around with cotton batting and protect her from life. But now, it seemed as if he was going to be just the same, doing his best to prevent her from participating in the investigation. No doubt he and Reed would cook up some scheme to sneak out of the house without her and go to the tavern alone.

She was pondering just how she could thwart such a plan when Rafe sighed and said, “I guess we’ll have to figure out some other way to do it, then. Maybe we can hire an anonymous hack and simply sit in it outside
the tavern and watch who goes in and out. Of course, the light wouldn’t be good, but perhaps we could see someone who looks foreign. The problem will be how narrow the street is, of course.”

Kyria smiled to herself.
Perhaps he isn’t like other men, after all.
“I could dress like a boy,” she offered.

He groaned. “You couldn’t pass for a boy.”

“I could, too. A young man. I’m quite tall enough, and I can borrow some of Theo’s clothes from when he was young. A tweed jacket covers up a great deal.”

“Not the way you walk,” Rafe pointed out.

They continued to bicker companionably as they walked to Rafe’s room to retrieve a set of pistols and some ammunition. They went back out through the garden and down to the meadow where Rafe had taken the twins to explain physics by way of a rifle.

Rafe set up the tin cans he had used days earlier, which were lying beside a large rock. He explained how to load the revolver and had Kyria practice it, then took her through the steps of aiming, cocking and firing the pistol. He demonstrated for her, sending the cans flying from the rock in four quick shots.

Kyria’s eyes widened, but she said only, “Showoff.”

He grinned. “Well, now, darlin’, I had to show you my qualifications as a teacher, didn’t I?”

He set up the tin cans again and handed her the pistol, butt first. He stood beside her. “All right, now raise it and aim. Better hold it with both hands. It’s got a little kick to it.”

He moved closer as he spoke, one hand going beneath Kyria’s arm to steady it, his other hand resting lightly on her back at her waist. Kyria was intensely aware of where his hand touched her arm. She could
smell his scent, feel his warm breath on her cheek as he leaned closer, looking down the barrel of the gun. It was that, she knew, more than any weight of the gun, that made her arm tremble. She wondered if he was thinking, as she was, of that afternoon at the inn, if being this close to her had the same effect on him that it had on her.

“Okay, now, you want to just squeeze the trigger,” he said. “Don’t jerk it.”

Kyria swallowed, forced herself to concentrate and pulled the trigger. Her hand went up under the force of the gun, surprising her. She looked at the targets. Her bullet had not hit any of them.

Rafe chuckled a little at her disappointed look. “Don’t worry. Pretty soon you’ll be knocking them all down. Now, did you feel that kick? You’ve got to be ready for that. That’s why it’s good to steady your arm with your other hand. Now, take in a breath and let it out and then squeeze the trigger…”

Before much longer, Kyria sent one of the cans flying, and she let out a shriek of triumph. They stayed at it for some time longer, until Rafe was satisfied with her progress, then started back to the house. It seemed a trifle unreal, she thought, to be walking back to her house with this man on this crisp autumn day, carrying the revolvers they had been shooting. It was at once so normal and accustomed, so comfortable, yet at the same time strange and exciting.

She wondered what would happen when this was all over. Would he return to America? Kyria felt a sharp pang at the thought of never seeing him again. She looked up at him. It seemed impossible, she thought, that he might disappear from her life.

He turned, apparently feeling her eyes on him, and
grinned at her, his mouth quirking up in that devastating way it had, making Kyria blush and look away.

They parted at her bedroom door. He pressed the small derringer on her and told her to carry it when they left the next day.

Kyria spent the rest of the day packing. Late that evening, before she undressed and got into bed, she went down to her father’s study and got the key to his collections room. It was silly, she supposed, to check on the reliquary again, but she knew that she would not be able to sleep until she had ascertained that it was still safe and in place.

She unlocked the door and crossed the room to the case where the reliquary sat. She stood looking into the case for a moment. Obviously, the box was safe and sound, just where it should be. There was no need to take it out. But Kyria realized that she wanted very much, indeed, to take the box out and hold it. It was an odd feeling and one that seemed to grow stronger every time she looked at the box.