The Wife He Always Wanted (26 page)

“There you are.” Lady Seymour breezed in like a mother goose, followed by her colorful chicks. “Gabe came by the house and told me about your unsettling day yesterday. So I decided to round up my daughters and Noelle and make a visit. Oh dear. Look at your hand. Gabe said you were involved in a brawl.”

“It was hardly that.” She wriggled her swollen fingers. “It was one horrid little nose.” Sarah kissed cheeks. “I cannot imagine you all traveling in the storm.” Wind lashed the house and rattled the windows. “Goodness.” She peered up at her ceiling. Neither the roof nor the plaster had yet been repaired. “Do not stand over by the fireplace or risk the ceiling collapsing on your heads.”

“You have been too kind to your workers,” Brenna said, frowning as a raindrop dripped from the crack onto a towel spread out on the floor. “I would have taken the men by their scruffs and marched them back to finish the job.”

“Perhaps we should move downstairs to the drawing room,” Sarah said as a second drip followed the first. “I’ve been sitting here imagining how I will decorate once my new mantel has been built. We really should go elsewhere.”

“Nonsense,” Noelle replied. “We are perfectly safe over here.” She took a seat on the settee that had been pushed to one side of the room with the chairs, out from beneath the bowed ceiling. The other women followed. “Besides I have never seen it rain inside a house. It will be entertaining.”

“Hmmm. I am not so sure how entertaining a flood in my parlor will be.”

Lady Seymour changed the topic. “I am looking forward to your arrival next week,” she said to Sarah and Noelle. “My household is in turmoil. It has been many years since we filled the rooms to brimming. I want everything to be ready for the festivities.”

Lightning cracked. Sarah winced. More water dripped down. A maid, Edwina, can into the room, rushed back out, and returned a few minutes later with a bucket.

Noelle snickered. “I should have brought an umbrella.”

“Let us go downstairs,” Sarah insisted. “It has stormed hard all week and I’d really hate to have plaster fall atop our heads.”

“Sarah does have a point,” Laura interjected. “I prefer to keep my skull intact.”

A maid arrived with tea. “Too late,” Brenna said. Both she and Noelle clearly enjoyed the leaking ceiling.

Soon Sarah’s concerns were set aside when the conversation turned to the list of parties and balls over the next week.

“There has been a change to the list. Mrs. Symonds has informed me that
her
sister, the duchess, is throwing the last ball of the year instead of Lady Ware,” Lady Seymour said. “There will be an actual waterfall in the ballroom, with ducks and swans swimming about, and everyone will be required to wear something pink.”

Noelle snorted. “Men in pink evening wear? How dreadful.”

“I cannot imagine my manly husband wearing pink,” Sarah said. “Pink boots, pink trousers, pink coat.” She mock-shuddered. “What an unpleasant image.”

The countess’s mouth turned down. “Men are not required to don pink trousers and coat. She only expects some pink in their waistcoats.”

“As the sister is a duchess, we will all comply,” Laura replied and sipped her tea. “Simon will not be pleased.”

The ladies all smiled. “Harrington men are a higher level of male,” Noelle said. “They do not mince, simper, or dress like dandies. They would much rather hunt stags, box for sport, and ravage their wives.”

The indelicate comment brought giggles. “Please do not make such comments in front of my mother,” Brenna scolded, laughing behind her hand. “She has delicate sensibilities.”

Lady Seymour rolled her eyes up. “As if I do not know the ways of Harrington men.”

Sarah flushed. Gabriel was a robust lover, as, it seemed, were the rest of the Harrington men, and Gavin, too. It explained the contentment of the ladies in their marriages.

The ceiling groaned. Brenna shot to her feet. “Look at the rain come down.” She was not looking out the window. Sarah also stood, followed by Noelle, Laura, and the countess.

“We need to go now,” Sarah begged. “Brenna, please come away from there.” But Brenna walked over as rain poured through the crack and a few particles of plaster broke loose. Sarah ran to her, and pulled her back just as the put-upon ceiling broke free. Water and plaster crashed down onto the bucket and floor and scattered wide.

“Goodness,” Lady Seymour cried. The noise brought several maids, a footman, and, finally, Gabriel—newly arrived home—running to see the damage.

Gabriel, after glancing over the ladies, stared at the scene before them. “Thankfully, no one was hurt. Lord, what a mess.”

“I could throttle Mister Rice,” Sarah said. “This is his doing. If he’d not gone off, the new roof would have shed the rain and we’d not have a pond in our parlor.”

“Perhaps Mrs. Symonds can ask the duchess to borrow a few ducks,” Brenna said and was rewarded with a frown from her mother. “Would you rather have a swan?”

“This is not funny,” Lady Seymour said as the maids rushed in, their arms laden with towels. They stopped, unsure of where to start. Water spread across the wood floor in rivulets, settling into indentations and cracks.

“Spread the towels around the perimeter,” Sarah instructed. “We should be able to contain most of the rain in the center.”

“Thankfully, the rain is only trickling now,” Laura offered. “I wonder how long it was collecting in the ceiling.”

“It probably has not fully dried out since the leak began, and who knows when that was,” Gabriel said. “Weeks? Months?” He took a step forward, his eyes on the pile of debris. He paused at the edge and bent forward.

“What in heaven is that?”

Chapter Twenty-five

G
ingerly, and in a mass of swishing skirts, the women followed Gabe across the room, stepping carefully over pieces of ceiling and wet towels, all eyes peering upward for signs of further collapse.

The remaining ceiling looked sound. For the moment.

“It appears as if the release of water has ended the danger, for now,” Gabe said, though his eyes were not skyward but rather focused on the metal item half buried in the debris. The rectangular shape stood out among wood and plaster.

His stomach flipped.

Could it be? He swung around and faced the servants lingering in the nearby doorway. “There is nothing more to see here. I need everyone to go back to your duties. We will worry about clearing the mess once the rain ends.”

The staff filed out. Sarah sent him a curious glance. He responded with a nearly imperceptible head shake. She said nothing as the last maid exited the room.

Once only family remained, he turned his attention to his sister, standing closest to the hallway.

“Brenna, lock the door.” She nodded, did his bidding, and hurried back. The women congregated together, waiting.

Sarah broke from the group and came up beside him. Her eyes narrowed. “You know something.”

He grinned like a fool. “Look at the metal box.” He pointed. “What do you suppose it is? A hint. It isn’t part of the ceiling frame.”

She braced a foot on a pile of plaster and leaned forward. Her eyes widened. “Good Lord. Could it be?”

“I think we have solved our mystery. I sent the servants off on the chance one of them may not be entirely loyal.” He examined the floor for the best place to advance over broken plaster to retrieve the box where it lay next to the hearth.

“Oh dear,” Noelle said, her eyes wide. “Surely this cannot be your father’s hidden papers?”

“We will soon find out,” Sarah said, her voice rising with her excitement. “Do be careful.”

Gabe slipped slightly but kept his footing. He leaned to shove away the broken pieces and gripped the edges of the box. The item was heavier than he expected. He lifted it high, turned, and picked his way back to Sarah.

“Unless your father hid gold beneath the floorboards upstairs and this ceiling, this has to be his documents.” He wore a silly grin. “What other explanation could there be?”

“We searched the walls, but not under the floor,” Sarah said, awed. She watched him set the box down on a clean spot of floor. “I do not know if I’m pleased or apprehensive. If our spies learn of the discovery before we are able to determine the value of the find, we could be in graver danger than previously.”

“That is why we cannot speak of this outside this room.” Gabe rattled the lock. It held. “We’ll lock ourselves in our bedroom before breaking this open.”

He reached for the handles.

“Wait!” his mother called. She pointed up to the gaping hole above. “I think I see another box.”

Tucked up in a portion of cracked ceiling, a corner of another metal box perched on the edge of the opening. It appeared to be waiting for the plaster to break loose and send it tumbling.

“We have found more than one box of buried treasure.” Sarah laughed. “And there was no X to mark the spot.”

“The papers may be worth more than gold and jewels.” Gabe crossed back over the rubble. The wood that made up the upstairs floor was stained darker where two boards met, attesting to where the raindrops had leaked through.

“Your father hid them under the floorboards above. Years of rain damaged both the attic, the room above us, and this ceiling. When the roof weakened with time, the water dripped down through all three floors.”

“I suspect our workers tromping around on the rotted roof were also responsible for additional rain coming in,” Sarah said. “Their abandonment of us for the duke has proved to be our good fortune. It may have taken weeks for the boxes to be discovered, once they finished the roof and tore down this ceiling.”

Glancing around the mess, Gabe had an idea. He took off his coat, handed it to Sarah, and began shoving aside the wreckage. Once the space was relatively clear, he called for a chair. Laura obliged.

He climbed atop and realized the box was still out of reach. Sarah went to the fireplace and solved the problem. “Here, use this.”

The fireplace poker had a hook on the end. She passed it up. “Thank you, love.”

“You could go in from above,” Mother suggested.

“I fear the floor may no longer hold weight.” He stretched up an arm and tapped the box. It was as solid as the first. Chipping away a bit of the ceiling around it helped him expose a handle. Then it took several tries to hook the loop and slide it further out of the opening.

“Stand back.” The women all moved back several steps. He pulled hard and the box dropped with a loud crash to the floor below. The lid popped open. A handful of papers fluttered out.

“Gabe!” Sarah cried. “Watch out!”

He scrambled off the chair as a huge chunk of ceiling broke loose over his head.

* * *

S
arah’s heart stopped as Gabriel leaped off the chair and disappeared in the waterfall of soaked plaster and debris.

She coughed. “Gabriel?” When the dust cleared from her vision, she saw him still standing. She sagged with relief.

Her husband had missed the brunt of the deluge but was covered in white and small chunks of ceiling.

He swiped his hand over his already battered face and brushed off his shirt and waistcoat. “I hope that is the last of the collapse or we will have to replace this floor, too.”

“Then get away from there before the floorboards above fall, too,” she scolded, and reached for his arm as he stumbled over the growing mess. With the help of Lady Seymour, they brushed damp dust from his hair and off his shoulders.

“You are quite covered, Son,” the countess said.

Once his face was clear, he retrieved the second box and shoved the escaped, and now soiled, papers back inside. Sarah and Brenna retrieved the other box, each clutching a handle.

“I think we should find other accommodations,” Gabe said. Water droplets continued to dampen the wreckage. “I do not know if I should thank Mister Rice for his inconsideration or strangle him for ruining my house.”

“If these boxes contain what we think they do, then I shall kiss him, hard, on the mouth,” Sarah jested as they walked into the hallway. “We may never have found these, if not for his lack of loyalty.”

“If this solves your father’s murder, we’ll all kiss Mister Rice,” Brenna said, then grimaced. “I hope his breath isn’t foul.”

Laughter added to the anticipation of opening the boxes and picking through the contents.

“My stomach is fluttering,” Sarah said. “A ten-year journey for justice may be at an end.”

“We all pray for that,” Laura said and touched her shoulder. “A killer has been free too long.”

Gabe led the women to their bedroom. Once inside, they set the boxes on the floor. He then called for Benning to send some of the footmen to clear away enough of the debris to put down buckets. “We need to keep the third floor from becoming the second floor.”

“Yes, sir.” The valet stepped away.

“Oh, and Benning, please bring me a hammer.”

“Yes, sir.” Within minutes the valet returned. He handed Gabe the hammer and withdrew again.

Gabe turned to face Sarah. “Shall we see what we have here?” He walked to the first box, lowered onto his knees, and pried open the rusted lid. Sarah sank down beside him. The ladies gathered around and leaned in.

A black leather journal, cracked and faded with age, lay atop some pages. There were no markings on the cover to indicate what was within. All five women stared at the book as if it held all the secrets of the world.

Sarah was the first to move. “Open it, please,” she urged.

Gabe did as she asked. He thumbed through the pages, scanning the words. “There is much about his early years as an agent of the Crown, some of his first cases and what life was like far away from home.” Gabe flipped quickly through to the end. “It appears as if most of this was before he met and married your mother. It’s unlikely we will find useful clues here.”

At the moment, Sarah did not care one whit about the case. These journals held her father’s history, penned in his own hand. They were very valuable. To her.

“To the case, perhaps, but there was so much I did not know about my father.” She reached out and Gabriel handed her the book. “I look forward to learning more about him as a young man.”

“Please continue,” Noelle urged. Brenna poked her with an elbow. “Can I help my impatience? This is a fascinating mystery.”

Buried under a few loose pages were several more journals. Gabriel sat back on his heels. “It may take us weeks to read through these, and the papers, too.”

“Not without help,” Laura agreed.

“I would be willing to assist,” Brenna said. “I’ll take a journal and see what I can find.”

“As will I,” Noelle offered. “I am still not allowed more than short trips out. I’m bored and would love to have a part in this case.”

“One for me, too,” Laura said, smiling. “Anything to help Sarah find peace.”

Tears sprang to Sarah’s eyes as Lady Seymour also volunteered her time. “Then everything is set,” the countess said. She put an arm around Sarah’s shoulder. “Between Gabe and we five, there will be no stone left to flip over.”

“No spies will be safe once we have uncovered proof of their dastardly deeds,” Noelle added.

“The Widow could not know she’d unleashed a vengeful band of Harrington women upon her head when she sent her thugs to kill my brother and kidnap my new sister,” Brenna said. She reached into the box and pulled out a journal. “We will all be present when justice is handed out.”

Sarah sniffed. “You are all so wonderful.” When she’d married Gabe, she’d not known what it meant to be a Harrington or how amazing it was to be part of such a big and loving family. “If The Widow knew what was best for her, she’d run off to the farthest corner of the earth and hide beneath a very big rock.”

Lady Seymour squeezed her shoulder. “Enough tears.” She reached into the box. “We all must get home and begin our investigations.”

“Remember,” Gabe said, “we must keep this secret.”

Amid excited chatter, each woman took a journal and left husband and wife to the remains of the boxes. “There are still many pages and books to go through,” Gabriel said. “Let us hope that The Widow and her thugs do not hear about our discovery. I think a surprise attack will best serve our case.”

Sarah opened the cover of her journal. Her father’s thoughts and experiences were spread out in lines across the page, penned in his careful hand. Though eager to begin reading, she knew the later journals probably had the most useful information. She set the book aside.

“I will take what is left in this box and you can take the other,” Gabriel said. “If you see anything you think is pertinent, set it aside. Anytime a name is mentioned, note it on paper and set it aside, too. We will not know who is friend or foe until the entire puzzle is laid out.”

“What about Mister Brown?” Sarah said. “Should we inform him of our find?”

“Until we can confirm his loyalty, I think it best if we keep this discovery to ourselves.”

* * *

S
arah rubbed her eyes and stretched her back. The words on the pages had begun to blur. “I cannot read anymore.” She dragged herself onto the bed and dropped back on the coverlet. Having sat cross-legged on the floor for several hours, even taking dinner from a tray, her entire body ached. “This is like looking for a pin in a field of grass.”

Gabriel returned a handful of unread pages to the box, moved it off the bed, and joined her. “Not once have you complained. I admire your fortitude, love.”

She turned her head and rubbed his arm. “The tedium of the search has its rewards. I have learned much about my father and his work. He was a meticulous man who wrote nearly everything down. He enjoyed spying and also confirmed that he did work for Lord Hampton. Either the man was lying or he truly cannot remember those years.”

“I saw no deceit in him and suspect the latter.” Gabriel rolled onto his side and propped his head on his palm. “Between us, we have several names to investigate. I will get Crawford on them in the morning.”

Sarah sat up. “Why Mister Crawford?” She rubbed her lower back and bit back a groan.

“At the moment we do not trust Brown. His Grace gave me Crawford’s name and trusts him completely. If anyone can find a connection between those men and your father’s death, he can.”

Gabriel stood and pulled her off the bed. “I think you need a reward for your service.” He tugged at the laces of her dress and removed it. He undressed her down to her chemise. “Lie on your stomach.”

“Gladly.” Sarah complied. Gabriel removed his boots and climbed in bed, sitting over the tops of her thighs. “This should help your back.”

With careful movements, he pressed along her spine, kneading his way up her back, drawing soft pleasured sounds from her. “I am in heaven,” she said into the pillow. “Never stop.”

He chuckled. “My hands would eventually cramp and become useless.”