More Than You Know (2 page)

For a moment Rand did not speak. Uncrossing his boots at the ankle, he levered himself straighter in the wing chair. There was a faint tightening to his jaw, giving the planes and angles of his face even more definition. Cutting across his right cheek from temple to chin was a thin scar, the line of it whiter now than it had been a short time ago. “Your facts are somewhat confused. I didn't
lose
anyone. My father was killed at Vicksburg. My older brother David was murdered by Yankee raiders bent on raping my mother. Shelby was killed at Manassas. One of them is the brother you apparently didn't know about. My home and land were stolen by a carpetbagger for what we owed in taxes. I managed to take possession of
Cerberus.
There are plenty of people who think I was lucky. There are some days I'm inclined to agree."

"And others?"

"I think you know about the other days,” Rand said. “That's why I'm here, isn't it?"

"I know what I've been told: you've dedicated the last ten years of your life to restoring your family's fortunes. Such a single-minded pursuit doesn't make me believe you consider yourself lucky very much of the time."

Rand shrugged. The white line of the scar faded so that it was almost invisible once again.

The duke's chin lifted a notch and his head tilted to one side. “You're what? Thirty? Thirty-one?"

"Thirty-one."

"I have a little more than a score of years on you, and I think I know something about what you're trying to do. Keeping what we own is a powerful driving force; getting it back after losing it can bring a man to the brink of madness.” He raised his glass in the direction of the paintings. It was not a portrait that he pointed to, however, but one of the landscapes. “That's a view of the countryside from Abberly Hall. It's been fought over, pillaged, surrendered, and retaken by various members of the family for five centuries. In a royal fit of pique, Queen Elizabeth held it for most of her reign. My great-great-great-grandfather recovered it, nearly at the cost of his head. So you see, it's in my blood, too. I would do ... no, I
will
do, whatever it takes to secure what is mine. We're not so different, you and I."

"Abberly Hall is still yours,” Rand said dryly. “So nothing's been taken from you."

"Yes, you're quite right ... about Abberly Hall."

Rand thought Strickland would go on, but the duke did not elaborate. After a moment Rand cut to the heart of the matter before them. “You must be aware that I want to accept your offer to sponsor my next voyage. I had hoped it was made sincerely and with an understanding of the terms given to my previous sponsors."

"Sponsors?” Strickland asked, his tone scoffing. “They were gamblers. I'm not. I want something in exchange for the funds I'm prepared to release to you. I need more than mere assurances that I will share in the Hamilton-Waterstone treasure. That the treasure exists at all is the stuff of legends. I'm taking a sizable risk just by taking you at your word. And you've offered no real proof that, if found, you can rightfully make a claim to it."

"I'm a Hamilton."

"There are hundreds of Hamiltons. Thousands, more likely. You can't all be descendants of Hamilton-Waterstone."

One corner of Rand's mouth curved upward. “It's worth considering, don't you think, unless you're questioning if we're all descendants of Adam?"

Strickland raised his glass appreciatively. “Very well. Darwin's notions aside, you have me there.” He finished his drink and poured another, half as much as he'd had before.

"In any event,” Rand continued. “Hamilton-Waterstone is not one man, but two, and I believe you know that. Did you think I wouldn't?"

"I had to be sure. You're an American, after all. The treasure is
our
legend."

"And it's
my
legacy. James Hamilton was my grandfather times seven greats. It was his grandson who settled in South Carolina in 1626. His son, grandsons, and all the greats, were born there, most of them at Henley."

"Henley is your plantation."

"Was,” Rand corrected. “It's been renamed Conquered by the current owner."

"Conquered?” Strickland asked, frowning.

"Did I say that?” Rand's dry smile appeared briefly and there was a touch of feigned innocence in his eyes. “I meant Concord. Believe me, the similarity of the name is no accident. Orrin Foster gave the renaming of Henley a lot of thought before he arrived at one that suited him.” And he had wasted no time in making certain Rand found out about it.

"All the more reason for you to find the treasure,” the duke said. He stood and walked to the fireplace. Placing his glass on the mantel, Strickland poked at the fire, then added another log. When he turned, his brow was knit thoughtfully. “Tell me, if Henley were still in your possession, would you have this interest in locating the treasure?"

Rand did not have to consider the question before he answered. “No. Finding the treasure was Shelby's idea of adventure. David and I humored him. As children the three of us would play at treasure hunting, and it was Shelby who was always allowed to find the booty.” Rand leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. He rolled his drink in his palms in an absent gesture. “The truth is, your grace, for a long time I didn't believe there
was
a treasure. I'm not certain that my father did either. I never knew my grandfather, but there's some indication that he and Shelby were of a like mind. I don't know how far you'd have to go back after that to find someone who gave the treasure much credence. Uncles. Great-uncles. No one that I knew did any actual treasure hunting."

"Until you."

Rand nodded, his smile a little grim now. “Until me."

"And now? You believe it exists?"

"I have to, don't I?” he said carelessly. “Else it would make these last ten years of looking for it a lie."

The duke's expression was considering. “You don't strike me as a man who chases a legend down at a whim. Such a man as that would have given up the quest years ago. Surely there would be more practical ways of taking Henley back."

Rand shrugged. He wondered if Strickland considered murder a practical method. “You may be right."

"I'm certain I am,” he said gravely. “And just as certain that you're privy to more information than you're willing to impart. That much of the legend, then, is true. Hamiltons don't trust anyone."

"We prefer to think of ourselves as cautious. You only have to look at the Waterstones to understand why the Hamiltons chose a different course."

"You're referring to the fact that the Waterstone family made no secret about their connection to the treasure."

"I'm referring to the fact that the Waterstone family no longer exists. The last of them died twenty years ago, right here in London, set upon by thieves who hoped to gain the riddle."

The duke watched Rand closely. “Some people say the thieves went by the name Hamilton, or were at least in the employ of Hamiltons."

Rand shrugged. “I've heard that. It's natural, given the animosity that grew between James Hamilton and Henry Waterstone, that stories like that would attach themselves to the legend. To hear my family tell it, the reason Henley Hamilton left England was to protect his wife and children from coming under a Waterstone knife. I think it was more likely that Henley wanted to be certain that none of his children attached themselves to any Waterstone through marriage."

The duke approached his desk again, this time ignoring his usual seat in favor of taking the companion chair closer to Rand. “And that brings me to this,” he said. “Is it really possible for you to find this treasure without a Waterstone to assist you?"

"You're talking about the Waterstone riddle."

"Yes,” Strickland said. “Is it in your possession?"

Rand chuckled softly. “Now
that
would be giving something away. I don't think I'll answer."

"But you have the Hamilton riddle? It does exist?"

It was not clear to Rand if Strickland was asking for a confirmation or simply fishing. It was time to cut line. Rand placed his drink on the side table and settled back in his chair. “What is the precise nature of your interest in the treasure, your grace?"

"It belongs here,” he said.

"The Spaniards would disagree, I think. The story goes it was their treasure first."

"Yes,” the duke said gruffly. “But then they should have bloody well taken care not to lose it."

Rand laughed out loud. “And my ancestor and Henry Waterstone? What did they do but lose it?"

"Safeguarded it, Captain. If they had not had a falling-out, most of the treasure would have found its way into the queen's coffers."

"Perhaps that's what they wanted to avoid.” He saw the duke start. “That never occurred to you? Surely they would not be the first privateers to try to hold back something from the queen. Perhaps you're thinking I shouldn't say it so easily, or at least that I should be embarrassed by the admission, but it was a long time ago, your grace, and being more thoroughly American than English, there's some bit of pride among the Hamiltons that our common sire got away with it."

Because Strickland looked as if he might choke, Rand got up and retrieved the duke's glass from the mantel. He filled it with another finger of Scotch and handed it over. “I can't say that it doesn't trouble me that you'd want to turn over your share of the treasure to the British Museum, or even that you'd give some part of it back to the queen. But then, if you support my next voyage and it's successful, you may do anything you like with your portion."

"And what of the claim the Spanish government will make?"

"What of it? No court but a Spanish one will take the claim seriously. As you said, they should have bloody well not lost it."

The duke's mouth lost some of its stiffness as he smiled thinly. He raised his glass in salute. “Damn if I didn't. And bloody good for me.” He finished off the drink in a single swallow. “So this leaves us precisely where?"

Rand wondered if the effects of the Scotch on the duke would work in his favor. “I imagine at the point of discussing your stake."

"My offer of three thousand pounds remains unchanged."

Rand said nothing. It was a generous contribution and Strickland knew it. It was also in the nature of a bribe.

"Very well,” Strickland said after a protracted silence. “I can give you as much as four thousand. But no more."

"The terms? Are they also unchanged?"

"I'd expect a full third of the treasure, not a quarter. And I still expect you to take my goddaughter."

Rand came out of his chair in a fluid motion. “No.” He glanced over his shoulder, almost expecting to find her there in the background again, silent and watchful, effortlessly making herself unobtrusive. Impatient now, believing there could be no resolution or compromise, Rand's fingers raked his copper hair as his eyes settled on the door.

"Are you not even going to ask why?” Strickland said.

Rand looked frankly at the duke. “You've missed my point if you think the why of it matters to me. My answer is no. It will remain no. I'm not playing nursemaid to Miss Bancroft, and I won't ask it of my men. She needs to stay right here in England and recover from her broken engagement, stubbed toe, hangnail, or—"

"You're referring to her ordeal, I believe."

There was a certain cutting edge to the duke's tone that Rand did not miss. Clearly Strickland was unhappy with his characterization of Miss Bancroft's experience as being of little account. “I apologize,” he said stiffly, the words and manner not coming easily to him, not in these circumstances. “It was unfair to trivialize Miss Bancroft's affliction. It is none of my concern and I would not have you make it so. She can be no part of this voyage."

"If she were my godson, Captain Hamilton? What then?"

"My answer would be the same.” Strickland's skepticism was evident. “You don't believe me?” asked Rand. “Then make the same request for yourself.” Rand saw that this rejoinder captured the duke's full attention. “You know it's true. No man who has put up money has been allowed to make the voyage; no man who has staked me couldn't afford to lose it. You sought me out. I would have looked for financing closer to home. John MacKenzie Worth has expressed interest. Carnegie. Vanderbilt. Rushton Holiday."

"Apparently you have no qualms about accepting Yankee money."

"None whatsoever. But they have to accept my terms. That means no one looking over my shoulder, tracking my route, or trying to cut me off from the treasure."

"My God,” Strickland said softly. “You Hamiltons are a suspicious lot. That's not why I want my goddaughter to go with you."

"No?” As soon as he heard himself say the word, inadvertently inviting an explanation, Rand held up his hand, palm out. “Don't tell me,” he said. “I don't want to know."

"Then you're willing to pass on this opportunity to secure new backing?"

"Your letter said I could expect to be reimbursed for the costs associated with my trip here."

"Yes. Yes, of course. I'll write you a draft immediately if that's your wish."

"It is."

Strickland rose slowly. “I can't say that I'm not disappointed, Captain. I had hoped you would not be so intractable."