Bobbi Smith (5 page)
Authors: Heaven
“Oh, Frederick doesn’t mind.” She was slightly irritated that Winn wasn’t more receptive, but far from discouraged. She wanted him, and she meant to have him.
“Well, I do,” Winn said. “I’m in no mood . . .”
“But I could change your mood.” There was heated promise in her words. “I could make you feel much better.”
Winn saw that Lucy wasn’t going to take no for an answer, and his patience quickly wore thin. He moved toward her, and Lucy, thinking he had changed his mind, lifted her arms to embrace him. When he grasped her wrists, she relaxed against him, believing he’d finally succumbed to her charms. To her shock, he dragged her from the bed and all but hauled her over to the opposite side of it where she’d left her clothes. He then scooped up her gown and handed it to her.
“Good night, Lucy.” He released her and stood back to watch her dress.
Lucy could tell by his cold-eyed expression that he’d meant every word, so she quickly donned her dress and left the room. She felt no shame as she went, only disappointment.
Winn waited until she’d gone, then locked the door after her. He picked up his whiskey glass again and drained it in one swallow. He glanced up and caught sight of his own reflection in the dresser mirror. Staring at his image, he wondered why his life suddenly seemed so empty. Not too long ago, the drinking, whores, married women, and card games had been enough, but now his life seemed an exercise in futility. Nothing he did mattered. He’d accomplished nothing of note in his twenty-eight years. Since gaining control of his inheritance after his parents’ deaths ten years before, he’d spent his time and money indulging his every wish, in spite of his Uncle Edward’s admonishments that wild, unprincipled living would not bring him happiness.
The thought of his uncle, a priest, momentarily shamed him, and he wondered what he would have thought had he seen him tonight. As he pondered it, Winn smiled. Perhaps, for once, his uncle might have approved of his actions. He had, after all, sent Lucy on her way.
Feeling jaded and world-weary, Winn took one look at the bed where Lucy had lain and knew he did not want to sleep there. He rang for a servant, and then, rather than wait, began to pack. He was determined to return to London right away. He wanted to go home.
Lawrence faced Enoch Parker across the table in the hotel dining room and smiled. Since they’d last met, his friend’s hair had gone completely silver, and he’d added a few pounds to his already portly stature. The changes suited him for they made him seem even more the studious professor. “It’s good to see you again. I was surprised by your invitation. I didn’t know you were back in London.”
“I’ve been doing research at the university for several weeks now and this is the first time I’ve allowed myself any diversion,” the bespectacled scholar explained. “I’ll be going home next week, and I wanted to see you before I left.”
“Well I’m very glad you contacted me. I always enjoy our visits,” Lawrence told him, and in truth, this was the first pleasant moment he’d had since his confrontation with Philip and Robert. It seemed the stress of disinheriting them had affected his health, and though he’d been taking his medicine as the doctor had instructed, lately he’d begun to have serious chest pains. None of that mattered to him right now, however, for he was with his friend and he was going to pretend that all was right with the world, if only for a little while.
“The food here may not be as exotic as the dinner we shared in Cairo, but your company is every bit as delightful.”
“Thank you. I enjoy our talks, too, but where’s Alex? Still up in your rooms?” Lawrence knew Enoch rarely traveled without his only child, his daughter Alex, who served as his assistant. Alex’s thirst for knowledge was as great as theirs, and Lawrence always enjoyed matching wits with her.
“My sister was unwell, so Alex stayed home to help her. If it hadn’t been for Alex, I would have missed this opportunity at the university. Thank God for children.”
Lawrence wasn’t so sure he agreed with Enoch’s opinion of children. “Is her condition serious?”
“It wasn’t life-threatening. I wouldn’t have left if it had been. I received a letter from them last week, and she’s much better now.”
“I’m glad. It’s difficult when someone you care about is sick.” He remembered how devastated he’d been when his wife died. It had taken him years to adjust to life without her. For just one sad moment, Lawrence wondered if anyone would grieve when he died. Then the direction of his thoughts annoyed him, and he quickly changed the topic. “Did you learn anything new and exciting while you were working?”
“A few things from the time of Ptolemy I, but, alas, my friend, nothing about the crown. I’m beginning to fear that it will never be found—at least, not in my lifetime.” Frustration darkened his expression, for proving the existence of the Crown of Desire was one of his lifelong goals. “Have you heard anything?”
“Nothing new,” Lawrence replied without lying. He saw the disappointment in Enoch’s eyes and began to wonder if perhaps the time had come to tell him everything. This man was his friend, one of the few people he trusted in the world. He suddenly had doubts about the provisions he’d put in the will.
The waiter arrived then with their meals, and the conversation lulled while they ate. Lawrence was glad, for it gave him a quiet moment to consider telling Enoch the truth. He knew his friend would be stunned but he hoped Enoch would understand that his motive for these years of silence had been pure. He’d kept the secret to keep the crown safe.
Lawrence made his decision, and as they finished dinner and ordered brandies, he spoke, “You know, we’ve been friends for many years now.”
“Indeed, we have.”
“Well, Enoch, I have a confession to make,” he began.
“A confession?” Enoch frowned, perplexed. Lawrence was an upstanding man, and Enoch couldn’t imagine what he had to ‘confess.’
“You may be angry when you hear what I have to say, but I hope you’ll try to understand why I did what I did . . .”
“I don’t understand.”
“Enoch.” He paused to draw a deep breath, then met his friend’s puzzled regard squarely. “I have the crown.”
“You what?” Enoch was stunned. “But how? When did you get it?”
“I’ve had it for some time . . .”
“Why didn’t you write and tell me? Why didn’t you let me know? You know how I feel about the crown! This is wonderful! Tell me everything! How did you find it! When did you first hear about it?”
“Enoch,” Lawrence said quietly. “I’ve had the crown for over twenty years.”
The professor surged to his feet, jarring his chair backward and drawing looks from the others in the dining room. His face reddened and his eyes flashed with the fury of betrayal. “You mean all the time I’ve been searching for it, you’ve had it and never said a word? How could you?”
“Let me explain . . .”
“You say you’re my friend and yet you didn’t trust me enough to tell me?!”
“Please, Enoch, sit down, and let me explain.”
His anger did not abate, but he did sit back down.
“Gentlemen?” the waiter spoke cautiously as he approached the table. He could see that the two gentlemen were arguing, and hoped to distract them. “I have your brandies.” He set the snifters before them.
“Thank you.” Lawrence’s tone was dismissive, so the waiter quickly moved off.
“I’m not so sure I care to drink with you right now,” Enoch ground out as he leaned forward in furious frustration. “You call yourself my friend and yet you keep this from me . . . You all but lied to me, and not just for a few months, but for twenty years!”
Lawrence had feared this reaction and thought better of pursuing the topic further. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps this isn’t the time for us to share a drink and discuss this.” He stood, aware of the attention they were drawing from the other diners. “Thank you for dinner.” With quiet dignity, he strode from the room.
For a moment, Enoch remained where he was. His thoughts were confused as he tried to sort out just what he was feelings. Betrayal, anger, and hurt competed with excitement. After a moment, excitement won. While it did hurt that Lawrence had had the crown all along and had kept it from him, there was no denying that he was still desperate to see it. Throwing enough money on the table to pay the bill, Enoch surged to his feet and ran after Lawrence.
The diners looked on with open interest as Enoch, looking very angry, rushed out. A murmur of gossip threaded through the room.
“Lawrence! Wait!” Enoch called as he emerged from the hotel and saw him about to climb into a hired carriage.
Lawrence stopped and turned to join him.
“I’m sorry,” Enoch said with true feeling. “I was wrong to react as I did, but I was so shocked by the news . . .”
“Would you like to come back to the house with me? I think it would be better to speak of this in private.”
“Thank you. You know what an obsession this has been for me. I want to know everything.”
They climbed into the cab together, and a short time later they were settled in Lawrence’s study. They’d forsaken brandy for tumblers of whiskey. The house was deserted and Lawrence was glad. The last thing he felt like doing was dealing with Philip or Robert tonight.
“You’ve really had the crown all this time?” the professor asked, his anger now replaced by anticipation. He had a multitude of questions and was desperate to have them all answered.
“It was found twenty-seven years ago, and I’ve had it in my keeping ever since.”
“And you told no one . . .”
“You know what a furor the discovery would have caused if it had become public. Other than myself, only my sons and valet have seen the crown, and then only on very rare occasions.”
“Why did you decide to tell me now, after all this time?”
“Things in my life have changed . . .” Lawrence paused as sadness filled him. “My sons . . . Well, suffice it to say that I’ve disinherited them.”
“I’m sorry, Lawrence. I had no idea.”
“I’m past being sorry. I thought I could redeem them. God knows I tried, but I realized a short time ago that it was hopeless. As far as I’m concerned, I have no children.”
As close as he was to Alex, the idea was anathema to Enoch, but he said nothing. He could see the pain in his friend’s eyes and knew there was nothing he could say or do to help the situation.
“Which is why I decided tonight to tell you the truth about the crown.”
“Is the crown here? In the house? May I see it?” He could no longer deny his excitement.
“The way things now stand, no one will see the crown again until after I’m dead.”
“What are you talking about?”
He quickly explained his motivation in hiding the treasure to keep it safe, and how afterward he’d written the three books. “I originally intended the books to go to Philip and Robert upon my death. I’d thought working to find it would make them better men, but I know now it’s useless. They’re beyond redemption. So I’ve designated that, upon my death, the books are to be given to the three people who love the crown as much as I do. One is to go to you, another to Matthew McKittrick, a young man I correspond with in Boston, and the last to my closest friend, Father Edward Bradford.”
“But Lawrence, why hinge finding the crown on your death? That’s morbid. We’re your friends. You know yourself that I haven’t been searching for it all these years because of its value. I’ve wanted to find the crown because of its historical significance.”
Lawrence realized he had a point. He’d written the books to thwart his sons in what he knew would be their quick attempt to sell all of his valuable possessions. They held nothing of value but money. Thinking of his sons and their greed brought on chest pain, and he fought against it. “Perhaps you’re right . . .”
Enoch could see how pale his friend had become. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I suppose I’m a little tired, that’s all.” Lawrence tried to shrug off his concern, but the weight pressing on his chest would not ease.
“We’ve waited this long, another day isn’t going to matter. Shall we talk tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow will be fine. Let’s meet in the evening, shall we? Say, seven o’clock?”
“I’ll be here.” Enoch stood to go, but there was one question that he could not wait to ask. “Tell me this before I go—is the crown as beautiful as the legend claims?”
“More so,” he confided, his eyes shining as he remembered the first time he’d seen the Crown of Desire.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Lawrence saw him out, then went straight upstairs to his bedroom. He was feeling terrible, and he desperately hoped his medicine would help.
As was his custom, Henry had placed the bottle and a spoon on the nightstand. Lawrence sat down on the bed, poured himself a double dose, and swallowed with a grimace. He wondered why the medicine seemed to taste more bitter than usual tonight, but he dismissed it as his imagination or perhaps an aftertaste from the liquor. He told himself that maybe if it tasted worse it would work better and ease the terrible tightness in his chest.
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