“There!” she cried, spotting a roughly hewn spike protruding from the wall of the well, a length of rope knotted around it. She reached her arm back, snapping her fingers while keeping her eyes fixed on the spot. “The spyglass.”
A heavy coolness filled her hand, and she whipped the spyglass around, holding it to her eye and squinting to focus. Tiny unraveled strands came into view, standing from the thick rope like the tiny hairs on the back of her neck. “Keep lowering,” she commanded.
She trained the spyglass to follow the rope in time with the shaft of light until— “I see a bundle.” She tightened her grip. There it was, a cloth-wrapped package tied to the rope in a simple square knot she’d seen her father tie a hundred times, yet the end was completely out of reach.
She turned away from the well, stomach churning with a cheerless excitement, and walked over to the sack of supplies. She replaced the spyglass and pulled out another length of rope, tying it around her waist.
“What are you doing?” Geoffrey asked, his voice low and incredulous rather than curious.
Liliana looked over her shoulder as Geoffrey handed the rope bearing the lantern to Aveline and started toward her. She frowned at him. “I’m securing the rope so that you may lower me into the well.”
Four male voices erupted in protest around her, Geoffrey’s loudest of all.
“I will be going in,” he insisted, his hands snaking around her waist to work at the knot she’d already gotten cinched tight.
Cursed awareness burned through her at his nearness, and at the deft fingers moving against her, albeit through her clothing, as he worked the knot loose. “That’s—that’s ridiculous.” She cleared her throat. “I am the lightest, and the least valuable should a slip occur. Every one of you is, or will be”—she glanced at Aveline—“a Peer of the Realm, and besides that, it is my father who placed the treasure here. It is only right that I should be the one to retrieve it.”
Nonetheless, Geoffrey tugged the rope from around her waist, bringing his lips close to her ear. “You are the most valuable one here. To me,” he murmured, then turned away, leaving Liliana in stunned silence.
Geoffrey looped the rope around himself, tossing the other end to Wellington, who walked it around a young tree trunk. Aveline handed off the lantern rope to Liverpool and braced himself against the outer stone of the well to help Geoffrey ease over the side and begin his descent.
You are the most valuable one here. To me. Liliana blinked to clear her head. She hadn’t time to dwell on Geoffrey’s odd words. She rushed over to the well, peering over the side. Lantern light glistened against the blackness of Geoffrey’s hair as he carefully picked his way down. Wellington had joined Aveline in lowering Geoffrey’s weight, but their faces grimaced with the strain.
“Here,” Liliana said, taking the rope bearing the lantern from Liverpool’s hands. He nodded in understanding and joined the other men.
Several tense but silent moments later, Geoffrey’s voice erupted from the well.
“I have it.”
Chapter Thirty
B
arnes exited the library after delivering the hot water and rags Geoffrey had requested, and had been tasked, once again, with keeping any and all others from entering the room. Geoffrey had to give the butler credit. The man had colored and shot a look at Liliana, probably embarrassed at having failed to keep her out earlier, but otherwise hadn’t blinked an eye, even given the fact that Geoffrey was covered in dust and dirt and the others, including the prime minister of the bloody country, were rather disheveled.
Liliana stood apart from the men, still clutching the bundled treasure to her chest, much as she had done since he’d handed it to her at the well.
At least she no longer had that stricken look upon her face, the one that mirrored how he was feeling inside, how he had been feeling since the moment he’d touched the cursed treasure both of their fathers had given their lives for.
Still, her shoulders slumped and she wouldn’t lift her gaze from the floor. Unease spread through Geoffrey. Yes, she was no doubt exhausted, and might very well be dealing with the reality of her father’s last actions, but something else was wrong. He was certain.
She hadn’t looked at him—really looked at him—since this afternoon in the folly…well, except for that moment when he’d knelt next to her as she’d tried to free herself from the thorn bush. But then only because he’d startled her, and she’d looked away as quickly as she could.
Even when he’d handed the bundle up to her from the well…Call him mad, but it was as if she’d gone out of her way to make sure her hands didn’t touch his.
His disquiet multiplied. Despite her actions earlier in this very room, she wasn’t acting like a woman in love.
What if the reality of today’s discoveries had been too much for her? She’d learned for certain that his uncle, a member of his family, had murdered her father. Bloody hell, she was holding the proof in her hands this very moment. Or worse, Geoffrey knew he closely resembled his uncle. What if Liliana couldn’t bear to look at him, much as he’d been unable to countenance being in a room alone with Joss, who’d reminded him so much of his own father? What if she couldn’t reconcile her feelings? What if he lost her?
“Let’s have a look.” Liverpool’s words drew his attention back to the task at hand. Still, as much as Geoffrey wanted to see what the bundle contained, he was more anxious to have this over with so he could get Liliana alone and figure out what troubled her.
Liliana brought the treasure over to the spindly table Geoffrey and Aveline had dragged near the fireplace as an impromptu staging area and placed it in the center. He and the other men gathered round, and only then did Liliana lift her gaze to him. He knew what she was asking. He gave her a nod.
Her capable hands trembled only a little as she untied the rope and unfolded the fabric. The treasure appeared to also be wrapped in protective leather, which Liliana deftly disposed of.
Geoffrey leaned forward, not breathing as a flash of green caught his eye.
Liliana lifted the corselet, slowly unfolding the golden…garment, he supposed would be the appropriate word. Maybe vest—if one could use such a word to describe something of such splendor.
“Good God.” That from Wellington, who’d seen much in his days but certainly nothing like this.
The others, Geoffrey himself included, seemed at a loss for words as Liliana lifted the magnificent piece of royal jewelry. Gold chain strung together dozens of square emeralds as a collar, glittering in the firelight. Another cluster of hundreds of the green gems joined together in a band, nearly the width of a Hindi cummerbund, which would circle the wearer and was attached to the collar by gold chain mail. And strung at the chest and back were two of the largest square-cut emeralds Geoffrey could even imagine, much less had ever seen.
“This could only have belonged to a queen,” Liverpool murmured.
“I remember my father saying that Cleopatra prized emeralds over all other stones and was responsible for bringing the gem to such fashion in the world,” Geoffrey remarked. “It must have belonged to her.”