Romancing the Earl (27 page)

Cate was afraid Septon had lied about a lot of things. Throughout her entire life. She felt hollow as she wondered if her own father was also a part of the deception. Did her mother even know? Cate was instantly torn between following the sword to Kentchurch and unraveling the mystery of the Order—and she only had to look at Elijah to know which he wanted to do.

“We’re going back to Septon House.” He practically growled the statement.

“I think we should find the sword first—before they do.”

“How will they know where to look? The tapestry won’t tell them. If you couldn’t figure it out, they can’t.”

She warmed to his confidence. But she still wanted the sword. “I don’t want to take the chance that they’ll find it first, especially if their intentions are malicious. This sword belongs to history and the people of Britain, not some secret group.”

He didn’t soften. “I need to find the men who killed my brother. I will see justice done.”

“Of course we will. I want that too.” As much as she wanted the sword, she realized. How deeply had she come to care for this man? The thought rattled her, and she pushed it away for now.

“What will you do?” Berwyn asked, his dark eyes wide in his young face.

“We’re not sure yet,” Cate said honestly.

Rhona looked across the table at Cate, her sherry-colored eyes narrowing with worry. “Your maid needs to remain for a few days to recuperate.”

Cate had figured as much. “You will allow her to stay here?”

“I think it’s best. We could accommodate you and the Englishman as well, but it will be close.”

Cate made a mental note not to tell Elijah they referred to him as “the Englishman” and wondered if that was also how they referred to Wade. “Lord Norris and I will be leaving; however, I believe his valet, Wade, would like to stay with Grey. Will that be all right?”

Rhona nodded. “He said as much. We may have to post the banns.” Her mouth curved into a pretty smile.

“What are you talking about?” Elijah asked with a hint of irritation.

She quickly apologized, realizing he must feel completely excluded because he didn’t understand what was being said. “She’s invited us to stay, but I declined. Wade, however, will remain with Grey while she recovers from her wound.”

“I realize they can’t comprehend what we’re saying, but may we speak in private?”

Wary at his crisp tone, Cate nodded slowly. “Yes.” She turned to Rhona and Ifan and smiled. “Will you excuse us for a moment?”

She stood and Elijah joined her. After glancing about, she led him into a small room off the kitchen. It held a narrow bed and some toys. Berwyn’s room, then.

Elijah closed the door and she arched a brow at him in question.

“We’re about to embark on a journey alone together and you’re concerned about a closed door?”

“I’m not, but I know how much you value propriety.”

“Hang propriety just now,” he bit out. “Will you come with me to Septon House?”

She desperately wanted to go after the sword first, but could she convince him? If not, she’d have to wait at least two or three days until Grey was well enough to travel. Her wound would heal, but she needed time to let it knit and ward off any fever. “I will,” she said cautiously. “After we go to Kentchurch.”

He swore, turning from her and going to the small window.

She came up behind him, but resisted the urge to put her hand on him. The desire to touch him was becoming more frequent. “What would we do when we reached Septon House? Accuse Septon of organizing Matthew’s death?” Cate didn’t think for a moment that Septon had actually done that. He was committed to antiquities, but not at the cost of someone’s life.
 

Elijah turned from the windows, his eyes blazing with icy heat. “What do you propose we do? It’s clear you have a plan. One that no doubt prioritizes your goal.”

Cate worked to keep her ire in check. She understood his anger—he’d lost his brother. “I’d like to go to Kentchurch—and I know you think that’s selfish, but it isn’t. I don’t want this Order to find the sword first. I don’t know what they plan to do with it, but if they’re willing to kill to obtain it, they must have a reason for their desperation.”

“Your argument doesn’t help your case. The risk of danger is now a reality, not a supposition. If we find the sword, this Order will track us and perhaps kill us.” His jaw clenched as his eyes gleamed with something she could only describe as suppressed violence. “Or at least try to.”

Cate decided right then that she was glad she’d never have to face this man on a battlefield. “But they don’t know where they’re going. We’ll ensure we aren’t followed. Something tells me you’re probably skilled at such evasion.”

“I am.” There was no arrogance in his statement; it was a simple declaration of fact.

Excitement bloomed in her chest, and she couldn’t help herself any longer. She took his hand in hers, felt how cool his fingertips were and rubbed her thumb across his knuckles. “Then come with me to find the sword. We can do this—together. Once we have it, we’ll go to my father and talk to him about this Order.”

His gaze turned skeptical. “Why?”

She glanced away, not wanting him to see how much this unsettled her. “Because I’m afraid he might be part of it too.”

“What?” The single word was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of iron.

“He would never, ever harm anyone, Elijah.” She couldn’t see past the hardness in his gaze. She looked at him imploringly. “Please, he’s my father. Perhaps there are corrupt members of this organization, but he isn’t one of them.” She knew that as well as she knew herself. The alternative was unthinkable.

“I would have difficulty believing that your parent could condone such a thing, but be warned that while I trust you, I do not extend that sentiment to anyone else. Do you understand?”

It was all she could ask of him right now. That he trusted her was enough—it had to be. She nodded.

He took his hand from hers and set it on his hip. “This is what we will do.” He spoke in an authoritative tone, one she was sure he employed with his troops. “You will stay here while Wade and I go to the inn. We will tell the innkeeper that we will be staying with friends—here—but that we need to keep our coach and team at the inn’s stables. After we disguise ourselves, you and I will leave on horseback when darkness falls tonight. There is enough of a moon to guide our way.”

Cate was amazed at how quickly he’d formulated a plan. “How will we be disguised?”

“I’m not entirely certain, but be prepared to dress as a man.”

The corner of her mouth ticked up. “It won’t be the first time.”

His gaze dipped briefly to her legs. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Finally, his gaze lost a bit of its fury. “It is imperative on this journey that you do exactly as I say. If you can’t agree to that right now, we’re not going.”

“I understand. You’re in command.” She suppressed a shiver as she realized she had no trouble accepting this hierarchy, and normally she would bristle at the thought of answering to anyone, especially an autocratic earl. Except he wasn’t being autocratic, at least not without reason.

Some of the tension left his shoulders as he went to the door. Pausing with his hand on the latch, he turned to look at her with an inscrutable expression. “I fear I’m going to regret this.”

She locked her gaze with his. “I promise you won’t.”

Elijah wiped a bit more soot on his face for good measure. Grime was an essential component of any good disguise, especially in the case of Cate, whose beauty would be difficult to conceal.

For the thousandth time since agreeing to this mad adventure, he reconsidered his decision to pursue the sword. He ought to be riding straight for Septon House so that he could demand the truth from that lying prick, Septon. Elijah didn’t care if Cate had known him her entire life—if he was guilty of arranging Matthew’s death, Elijah would see him prosecuted.

And then there was her father. He didn’t know the man at all, of course, but he couldn’t accept that he could be involved in something so heinous. Unless Elijah was completely wrong about her, and he didn’t think so. He believed her when she said she was committed to finding out how Matthew had died. He only hoped he wasn’t blinded by his emotion.

He pressed his lips together and felt his muscles tighten. He wasn’t certain how he felt about her, but he cared whether she found her blessed sword, and a shadow cast itself over his mood whenever he thought about what happened after that. When he thought of the end of their association.

Forcing the tension from his shoulders, he straightened his threadbare coat, with its missing buttons. Ifan had collected a ramshackle assortment of clothing for their disguises, which only helped their cause. The objective was to avoid notice, to fade into the background. Unfortunately, footwear had been a problem. Unable to find boots that would fit his large feet, Elijah had mucked up his own to the best of his ability—rather, to the best of Berwyn’s ability. The lad had taken the task quite seriously while at the same time having a jolly time of it. Elijah was only glad they’d found suitable boots for Cate because wearing her own was out of the question.

As if summoned by his thoughts, she came out of the bedroom where Grey was convalescing. If he hadn’t known of Cate’s disguise, he likely wouldn’t have recognized her. He smiled.

“Don’t laugh at me.” Her tone carried an edge of humor, and he suspected her warning came from a desire to remain sober as opposed to a sense of vanity.

“I would never.”

She cast him a dubious look, but smiled. “You’re right. I’m certain I can count the number of times you’ve laughed in my presence on one hand.”

It might have sounded like a jest, but she was right. Elijah rarely laughed. He rarely had cause to, although he found levity more and more in her presence. Perhaps that’s where this
emotion
he couldn’t describe was coming from.

“Will I pass muster, then?” She turned in a circle. Thankfully her coat covered her backside, else Elijah was certain the entire charade would fail. There would be no mistaking her feminine curves outlined in the snug breeches.

“Not in my regiment, but that’s precisely the point,” he said. She looked just like a ragamuffin young man with her hair tucked up into a hat, her face caked with dirt, and her form clad in worn clothing that cloaked her sex. It was, without a doubt, a most successful disguise. Why, then, was he more attracted to her than ever?

“Are we ready?”

“Ifan is with the horses in the alley.” In addition to procuring their clothing, their Welsh benefactor had performed a minor miracle and obtained a pair of beasts for them to ride. “You’ve bid farewell to Grey?”

“Yes.” She frowned—at least, he thought that’s what her mouth was doing. It was hard to tell beneath the dirt. “She is quite aggravated that she can’t accompany us. I’m grateful to Wade for staying with her. I fear she’d insist on coming if it weren’t for him.”

“He’s not terribly pleased with this turn of events, either. He’d much rather be at our side.” And Elijah would much rather have him. He hoped they’d be able to meet Wade and Grey in Monmouth at Cate’s parents’ house.

Rhona approached them, speaking in Welsh to Cate, who responded. Cate then hugged the petite woman and thanked her—one of the few words Elijah had been able to pick out of the conversations he’d overheard all day.

Elijah opened the door and stepped into the twilight. Cate followed him and he set the latch. He reached back and took her hand. Though they both wore gloves, the contact felt intimate. What did he expect? They were embarking on a journey alone. Intimacy would be unavoidable. He just had to strive to keep their interactions chaste.

Ifan had provided directions to the alley via Cate. Elijah guided her down the empty street and crossed the other side. Voices sounded from farther down, and Elijah quickened their pace. He turned right into the alley and exhaled a small breath of relief.

Two horses, held by Ifan and Berwyn, stood ready. Elijah helped Cate to mount the smaller of the two. Ifan said something to Cate and she thanked him as she’d done his wife earlier.

Elijah stepped forward and offered his hand to Ifan. “Dee-allch,” he said, hoping he wasn’t mangling the Welsh word for thank you.

Ifan gripped his hand firmly. “Croeso.”