One Week As Lovers (Somerhart 3)

She tried to swallow the cake, but it wouldn’t budge. Unfortunately, her dry mouth only bought her a few more seconds, because Mrs. Pell, whose eyes saw everything, handed her a cup of tea.

But she didn’t wait for Cynthia to clear her throat. Instead, she offered her own explanation. “She means to find buried treasure, milord.”

Oh, Mother of God. She’d swallowed the cake, but now the tea jumped into her windpipe. Cynthia began to cough wildly.

Lancaster’s hand landed soundly on her back, and he thumped her a few times. “Buried treasure? That’s quite a…scheme.”

She shook her head and knocked his arm away. Wonderful. And he’d thought her childish before. “It’s not buried treasure,” she croaked.

His doubtful hum conveyed understanding and pity at the same time.

“There’s treasure hidden in the cliffs.”

He took a sip of tea. “My cliffs?”

Damnation. In truth, even if she found the treasure, it should rightfully belong to him. “I can’t be sure,” she said carefully.

“Well, it’s either my cliffs or old Inglebottom’s and his start ten miles away.” He held her gaze, waiting for an acknowledgment she wouldn’t give. Finally, he shrugged. “Why do you think there’s buried treasure in my cliffs?”

“Not buried,” she repeated. “This isn’t a fairy tale.” Ignoring Mrs. Pell’s snort, Cynthia crumbled a bit of her cake, but didn’t dare take another bite. “I found an old journal a few years ago. It was written by my great-uncle when he was a boy. He claimed to have come across a smuggler’s stash. Said he found a great chest of gold coin and hid it in a sea cave.”

“Stolen pirate’s booty?” Lancaster crowed. “That’s even better.”

“It’s not a joke, you insufferable lout.”

She watched him try—and fail—to twitch his mouth into a serious line.

“It’s real, Lancaster. And I mean to find it.”

“Right. And why do you assume the gold is still there?”

This she could answer with certainty. “My great-uncle died very young. Only two years after the journal was written.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgment. “All right. What do you mean to do with this gold when you find it? Pay for Richmond to be quietly murdered?”

Strange, but he sounded slightly hopeful at that. “Of course not! I mean to pay off my family’s debt and buy passage to America.”

“Ah. Why pay off your stepfather’s debt?”

“My sister. Mary will be fourteen next year. I don’t think Mother would let her be sent to Richmond, but…she’s never been able to stand up to her husband. I won’t see my little sister given in my stead.”

All the amusement vanished from his face, leaving a mouth that looked as if it hadn’t smiled in years. “I see. So you honestly believe this treasure exists?”

“I do.”

“Then I’ll help you find it.”

That seemed a bit too good to be true. “You’ll help me? And then you’ll send me off to America with well wishes?”

“Er…We’ll have to discuss that later.”

“No, we will not,” she said firmly.

Mrs. Pell, still fiddling with the tray, set the teapot down hard. “The viscount is a traveled man, Cynthia Merrithorpe, and you’d do well to listen to him.”

“I reach my majority in two weeks and I’ll do whatever I like.”

“Spoken like a true adult,” Lancaster murmured, and she had to fight the urge to punch him in the ear.