The de Valery Code (40 page)

“I’ll promise you anything, but are you certain you want to return to Caerwent?”

She lifted a shoulder. “Why not? I have many excellent memories.” Her gaze fell on his wounded arm, now hidden beneath his layers of clothing, but aching nonetheless. “Perhaps you do not.”

“On the contrary, I shall recall the hot summer days of Caerwent with the utmost fondness.”

She grinned at him before sipping her lemonade and setting the glass on the table, leaning over him in the process.

He snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap.

She tried to pull away, but her sultry smile belied her actions. “Rhys!”

“Now, you’re worried about propriety? A woman I greatly admire recently took me to task for such nonsense.”

“And she was right to do it.”

He captured the back of her head with his palm, holding her captive to his stare. “She is free to lecture me about anything at all. Any time.” His lips met hers, and she kissed him with a passion he felt straight to his toes.

After a long moment, she pulled away and laid her head against his unwounded shoulder.
 

He stroked her hair, enjoying the moment and looking forward to a lifetime of them. “Are you sure you aren’t disappointed in how our adventure turned out? The treasure wasn’t what you expected.”

“No, but neither was the journey.” She looked up at him, love shining in her eyes. “And it’s far from over.”

Epilogue

September dawned with a nasty rainstorm. Not that Margery minded, for that meant she would have an excuse to stay indoors and sneak away with her new husband for a few stolen kisses—or more.

Still, disappearing in the middle of the day might be noticed by one of the other people who now inhabited Hollyhaven: Penn or one of Margery’s aunts. Convincing them to relocate to Monmouth had taken a bit of cajoling, but they’d both agreed that they preferred to be with Margery than alone in Gloucester. Harker had also been pleased to accompany them and was enjoying her new position as the housekeeper of Hollyhaven, while Mrs. Thomas had been delighted to focus her duties on her true love: cooking.

Margery dodged an orange ball of fur darting up the stairs. Penn appeared at the base and stopped short before pursuing the kitten.
 

“What’s wrong with Felicity?” she asked.

“Fergus was playing a little too rough and she got upset,” Penn said. A second kitten, a black cat with orange wisps here and there, padded toward the stairs. Penn scowled down at him. “Naughty boy. Be nicer to your sister.”

“Indeed,” Margery said to the cat. “Else your mother will see that you’re punished.”

They’d taken in the family of three—a mama and her two kittens—because really, three cats were better than one.

Aunt Eugenie walked into the hall and looked up as Margery descended the last few steps. “Oh, Margery, there you are. Tea is ready. Or coffee if you’re Aggie.” She made a moue of distaste.

Margery smiled, thrilled to have everyone she loved within arm’s reach. “I’ll fetch Rhys.”

Aunt Eugenie nodded and strode back toward the drawing room.

Margery crossed the hall and went into Rhys’s library, where he was bent over the Anarawd manuscripts laid across his table. He’d translated them and was in the process of making several copies, including one in Latin, so that he’d have the text, if not the original.

Margery came up behind him and massaged his neck. “Your handwriting is so lovely.”

“A necessary skill in my occupation. My father made certain I wrote legibly and with an attractive slant.”

Of course he had. She’d come to learn just how exacting the elder Bowen had been. “Tea is ready.”

He reached back and laid his hand over hers, then brought it around to press a kiss to her palm. “I was thinking that we might take Penn with us when we return Nash’s book.”

“That’s a splendid idea.”

“Then we can swing through Caerwent to show him the ruins.” Penn had been so upset about not being able to accompany them that they’d promised to take him as soon as possible. Plus, they would deliver the Anarawd poems to Septon. “Are you ready to give them up?” She nodded toward the papers on the table.

He exhaled. “No. And I’m especially reluctant to turn them over to the Order, even if I do agree that keeping their existence quiet is for the best.”

They’d discussed this question many times—how the revelation of these works that were contemporary to Arthur and his knights might fuel interest in finding the thirteen treasures. “I thought we agreed that the thirteen treasures were likely lost, if they ever even existed.”

“As magical items you mean. I think they’re likely extant, but no, I don’t believe they can feed an army or tame any beast.”

She didn’t believe that either. But she was still intrigued by them. It was a shame Anarawd’s tales didn’t shed any light on where they might be.

Rhys turned his chair and brought her to stand between his legs. His arms encircled her waist and he nuzzled her chest, pressing a kiss to the flesh exposed above her bodice. “I was thinking that the poems might be lost or stolen en route to Septon.”

She looked down at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “What if Nash held on to them? We once discussed the treasure perhaps belonging to him, since his family commissioned the manuscripts from de Valery in the first place.” He looked past her and shook his head. “That’s one mystery I’d like to solve, but don’t think we ever will.”

“Why they commissioned them, you mean?”

He nodded. “I trust Nash to not only keep them safe, but to appreciate the privilege of holding them . . . for his grandson.”

“Kersey?” Rhys had told her about Penn’s true parentage and she understood the necessity to keep it secret, for now. She also understood how deeply the truth would affect Kersey some day and was sorry for it. Ensuring that his family’s legacy, of preserving the work of Anarawd, was passed on to him was the least, and perhaps best, they could do for him. Margery touched her husband’s jaw. “Nash will be thrilled . . . and honored.”

“But the Order must never know,” Rhys said solemnly.

“Know what?” Penn skipped into the room. He flung himself in a chair, having become a comfortable member of the household.
 

Margery stepped out from between Rhys’s legs and stood beside his chair.

“You’re still working on this?” Penn picked up one of the sheets Rhys had been copying into Latin. Penn’s brow furrowed as he tried to form the words, but he stumbled over the pronunciation.
 

“Would you like to learn Latin?” Rhys asked, eyeing him with interest, and perhaps hope.

Penn lifted a shoulder. “I s’pose.” He turned and looked at Margery, who frowned at his posture and gestured for him to sit up. He complied. “Yes, I’d like to learn Latin.”

“And I’d be delighted to teach you.”

Penn stood. “You’re supposed to come for tea. We can’t start without you, and Mrs. Thomas made Shrewsbury cakes.” His favorite. And Margery’s. She’d fallen in love with this boy as surely as she’d fallen in love with his foster father.

Rhys got up. “All right, we’re coming.”

Penn darted from the room, and Margery realized a kitten was dogging his heels. She smiled, amazed at how quickly and wonderfully her life had changed.

“He’s settled in quite nicely, hasn’t he?” Rhys asked, offering her his arm.

She curled her hand around his sleeve and let him lead her from the library. “Better than we could have hoped. You’ve never heard from his mother?” They’d both wondered whether she had passed.

Rhys shook his head. “And I suspect we never will. It’s all right. He has a mother.” He stopped and looked at her with love and joy.

She laid her hand on his chest, adoring this man who filled her life better than she could have dreamed. “And a father.”

He kissed her forehead. “And we all have a family.”

The end

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The de Valery Code
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The de Valery Code
is the first book in the Regency Treasure Hunters Series. Read on for an excerpt from book two,
Romancing the Earl
, due in winter 2015.

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Coming Winter 2015:

Chapter One

Wiltshire, July 1819

“My lord, you have a visitor.”

My lord.
Would he ever get used to that? Like as not, particularly after being called by a military rank nearly all of his adult life.

Captain Elijah Hollister—rather, Lord Bloody Norris—looked up from the ledger he was studying. The enormity of inheriting an earldom when one never planned on doing so weighed on him. But not so heavily as the shocking death of his brother last year, which had necessitated his return to England.