Regina Scott (19 page)

Gwen dimpled. “Now I know you’re teasing. But don’t fall into the dismals. I’ve thought of somewhere else the colonel might have kept his jewels.”

That stopped him. “Indeed.”

His brows were up, and sunlight glinted in his green eyes. “Indeed,” she promised. “The mine.”

He frowned. “But anyone might walk in and find them.”

“Not at all. Wad is precious. When the mine was closed, the entrance was sealed with a padlocked door.” She fished in her basket. “I have Father’s keys.”

He shook his head. “Do I want to know how you got those?”

“I’m certain you can hazard a guess after last night,” she replied, face heating. “So, shall we try it?”

“Not without provisions,” he said, but he started for Blackcliff just the same. “I want a lantern at the very least.”

“We can find that at the gatehouse,” Gwen replied. “Anything else?”

Trevor eyed her. “Yes. A brace of stout pistols, loaded and half-cocked. I don’t know what we’ll find at the mine, but I plan to be ready for it.”

T
revor wasn’t sure what he had expected, but he found himself disappointed on his first sight of the fabled Blackcliff Mine. It consisted of a tunnel in the rocky side of the fell, with piles of silty black tailings surrounding the entrance. A thick slab of oak planking served as a door, locked with a stout iron padlock. Trevor put out a hand to stop Gwen as she selected the key from the ring.

“A moment, please.” He crouched on the sharp gravel before the door and eyed the lock. Orange around the edges showed where snow and rain had rusted the device. He was more interested in the scratches marring its face.

“When was the last time this door was opened?” he asked, rising.

Gwen cocked her bonneted head. “Very likely when the colonel’s solicitor came to inventory the estate before putting it up for sale. Father checks
that the lock is in place once a month and opens the door quarterly to be sure no one has tampered with the place.”

Trevor looked over the door. “Did he ever find signs of tampering?”

“No. We’ve been fortunate. Some of the other closed mines have been plagued by smugglers. They tunnel in from the sides or above and bypass the locks. Some of the mine owners post guards. Colonel Umbrey didn’t feel that was necessary here. All the land connected to the Blackcliff Mine belongs to Blackcliff.”

Trevor stepped aside. “Well, let’s see if he was right.”

She inserted the key, and the lock rasped open. Trevor seized the iron handle of the door and heaved.

Chill, stale air darted out as if glad to escape. He held his lantern high as he took a step inside. His boots crunched on rock. Rough walls rose on either side, pitted and scarred. Here and there, something glittered in the light.

“This is wad,” Gwen said, scraping a bit of rock off the wall. It sparkled as she crumbled it in her fingers. “You can see it’s fairly soft. It’s not hard work to mine it.”

“Yet here it sits, waiting.” The idea frustrated him. Yard on glittering yard of the stuff, and without those jewels or some other source of investment, he couldn’t touch it.

“Until we can repair the timbers,” Gwen said as if reading his mind. “Mr. Dennings’s death was a terrible tragedy. I know none of us want it repeated. But once the mine is repaired, you wait and see. Blackcliff will flourish then.”

If there was anything left of Blackcliff. Trevor could not argue that the place needed repairs. The beams holding up the roof were cracked and bent. Water trickled down the walls beside him. Even closed up, the mine suffered from the cold of winter, the heat of summer. The very air tasted metallic.

“Is there a storeroom? Any place for a foreman?” he asked, moving a few feet deeper into the tunnel. The uneven walls disappeared beyond the light of his lantern. He could only hope the colonel’s hiding place wasn’t too deep, as he refused to risk Gwen’s life, or his own.

“The wooden buildings were all at the entrance when the mine was operating,” she replied, following him. “The colonel let the villagers take the wood to repair their outbuildings.”

Generous fellow, Umbrey, with everyone but the person who would buy his estate and the servants he’d left behind. Trevor turned to Gwen. “Then where would he have hidden the jewels?”

“The emergency box.” She moved past him for an alcove in the wall a little ways along. “It held water, a whistle and bandages in case of a cave-in. Mother devised the scheme.”

“Why do I sense that you had a hand in it, as well?”

He could see her smile as she tugged an iron strongbox from its storage place. “Because you are a gentleman of uncommon good sense.”

The light at the entrance flickered, as if something had passed across it. Trevor looked back in time to see the door swinging shut. The rush of air swept toward him along with the darkness and a resounding thud.

Gwen straightened, blinking. “What happened?”

Trevor bundled her into the alcove with the strongbox. “We have company. Stay here.”

She immediately scrambled out again. “I will not! Give me that lantern. You need both your hands.”

Much as it pained him to admit it, she was right. “At least stay behind me,” he said, handing her the lantern and pulling out one of the pistols from his greatcoat. At the sight of the long barrel, she sobered and nodded agreement.

Trevor started for the door. In the still air, the only sounds were the drip of water down the wall and his footfalls on the rock.

A tiny sliver of light showed through the keyhole. Trevor bent and peered out but saw only the ground before the entrance. He could hear nothing through the thick oak. Straightening, he glanced at Gwen.

“Our visitor could be waiting, just outside. He’s already proven he’s not above hurting others. Let me go first. If there’s any trouble, run for the Hall.”

She shivered. “We should have brought Dolly.”

“Agreed. Now promise me you’ll run.”

She met his gaze. “If there’s nothing I can do to help, I’ll find help.”

That was not the answer he wanted, but he knew he should have expected it. “Good enough.” He wasn’t sure what possessed him, but he bent and pressed a kiss against the cool of her forehead inside her bonnet. “Be careful,” he ordered, straightening.

She nodded, eyes wide, in shock at his kiss or concern for their safety, he couldn’t know. He eased open the door and peered out.

The slope below lay as empty as when they’d climbed it, the muddy road trailing down to a corner of the estate. He could see the Hall to his right and the village to his left. Not even a bird soared in the sky. All was silent, as if waiting.

Trevor ventured into the open, keeping an eye out for any movement. On either side, the tailings stood dark sentinel. Scraggly trees struggled up here and there among the rocks. There was no place to hide.

“Everything all right?” Gwen asked, stepping out of the mine and blinking in the sunlight as she blew out the lantern.

A rock rolled down the slope and dropped at Trevor’s feet. He whirled.

There were more of them, tumbling toward him, crashing down the slope. No time to find who had started them sliding.

“He’s above us!” he shouted, uncocking the pistol
and hurling it aside lest it discharge by accident. As Gwen looked up with a cry, he jumped to her and pressed her back against the door. The lantern fell at her feet.

Dirt showered him, and rocks thudded down on all sides. The avalanche knocked his hat from his head, carried it off down the hillside. The rumble trembled up his legs; the dust clogged his lungs. He held Gwen close, sheltering her with his body. She clung to him without a whimper.

Please, Lord. Hear me this once. Keep her safe.

As quickly as it had begun, the avalanche ceased. The last rock landed with a bounce beside Trevor’s dusty boot. Slowly he raised his head and straightened.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

He flexed his shoulders and winced. “Well enough. Stay here.”

Cautiously, he moved back until he could see up the slope. Bushes lay crushed, trees toppled and limbs missing. Dust hung in the air, already drifting with the breeze. Nothing else moved.

“He seems to be gone,” he reported.
Thank You, Lord.

Gwen sprang away from the wall and hurried to meet him. She peeled off her glove and reached for his face, standing on the toes of her dusty boots. Her fingers were warm as they probed his forehead, sifted dirt from his hair. He wanted to lean into the touch, hold it closer, hold her closer.

She relaxed onto her soles and held up her hand for his inspection. “No blood. That’s good.”

Not good enough. He had to get her safely back to the house. Their visitor could be anywhere on the mountain, above or below them, waiting. If he was willing to see them crushed in a rock slide, Trevor didn’t want to know what else he’d try.

He kicked a rock aside on his way to the door. “Can you carry that strongbox?”

She made a face. “Doubtful.”

Trevor sighed. “We can’t leave it. This fellow is everywhere, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he had a set of keys.”

She opened her mouth as if to protest, but Trevor pulled out the other pistol. “I believe you know how to use this. You pointed it at me the night we met.”

“I remember,” she said, accepting the gun gingerly from him. “And if I haven’t apologized before, I’m very sorry for ever considering you a thief.”

“The feeling is mutual.” In fact, his feelings since then had changed so much they astounded him. He bent to retrieve the lantern. Though the glass had broken, the candle remained intact. He pulled out his tinderbox and set about relighting it. “Keep a sharp watch and a ready gun,” he said, gazing into the dark mine. “I’ll be back with the box.”

Gwen waited outside the mine. Dust settled around her, and she saw nothing else moving on the slope. The gun wavered just the slightest in her
grip; she forced her hand to steady. She’d be no help to Trevor if she fell to pieces now.

Yet thoughts tumbled through her mind like the rocks that had pelted moments ago. Who had followed them to the mine? Why would he try to hurt them? Was he truly after the jewels? Were they in the mine, after all?

Why had Trevor kissed her?

Lord, thank You for keeping us safe, but help me focus!

Footsteps sounded, and she flinched, then realized it was Trevor returning. He had the box up on one shoulder. Handing her the lantern, he took back the pistol. Gwen relaxed as it left her hand.

“Lock it,” he said with a nod toward the door. His gaze moved over the hillside, watchful. Gwen hurried to lock the door. As she returned to his side, he motioned her ahead of him with the pistol, steadying the box with his other hand. Gwen blew out the lantern and started down the slope, pausing only long enough to pull the other pistol from the rocks and hand it to Trevor.

As they continued down the hillside, she glanced back once in a while, but the only person she saw was Trevor. His hair was coated with dust; his greatcoat looked more gray than black. His face was just as grim.

Please, Lord, let that box be filled with jewels!

“I have some ointment for those scratches,” she
offered, looking back. “I’ll fetch it up to the house straightaway.”

A smile teased one corner of his mouth. “Ah, so you don’t care to see what’s in this box.”

“Of course I do!” Gwen smiled as she faced forward once more. “I meant straightaway, after you open it.”

He chuckled. “Curious little thing, aren’t you?”

“Well, we risked our lives to fetch it. We might as well see what we won.”

“Agreed. I imagine your father would like to see what’s inside, as well.”

Gwen thought so, too, but her father wasn’t in evidence when they reached the house and Trevor set down the strongbox inside the door. Mrs. Bentley and Dorie, who were tidying the withdrawing room, hadn’t seen him, either. Gwen could only hope he’d gone home to sleep off the remaining effects from last night.

“What happened?” Mrs. Bentley cried when she’d gotten a good look at the two of them. “I’ve never seen anyone so dirty! Did you fall in a pit?”

Trevor pulled off his greatcoat as Gwen untied her bonnet. Even with her safe in Trevor’s arms, the headpiece was covered in dust. Mrs. Bentley took it and his coat, clucking, and carried them off to be cleaned.

Trevor lifted the strongbox and started for the library. Gwen followed. Once inside the room, he laid it on the desk.

“Ready?” he asked, eyeing Gwen across the space.

She clasped her hands together and nodded, biting her lip to keep her emotions inside.

Trevor looked just as excited as she felt as he threw back the lid. But one look inside and he puffed out a sigh.

“A bladder of water, bandages, candles and a tinderbox,” Gwen said, sorting through each item. “Oh, and here’s the whistle.”

“Marvelous.” He strode to the window and stared out, back to her. He obviously didn’t want her to see the disappointment on his face, but she found it in the sag of his shoulders.

She crossed to his side and put a hand on his arm. “Don’t lose hope. We have plenty more places to look. You said yourself you hadn’t tried the upper floors of the house, and there’s the stable and the outbuildings and…”

“Gwen.” The tone stopped her. He turned to gaze down at her. “I don’t want you to search anymore.”

She blinked. “You’re giving up?”

He shook his head. “You mistake me. I will keep looking. I want you out of it.”

She stepped back, raising her head. “I thought I did rather well today. You needed more than two hands at the mine.”

He gathered both her hands in his and cradled them against his coat as if they were somehow precious to him. “You were brilliant—brave, clever, a true partner.”

His words warmed her, but she could see he had made up his mind. “Then what?” she asked. “If I can be of such use to you, why won’t you let me help?”

He gazed down at her a moment, face tight. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

She smiled up at him, relishing the feel of his hands on hers. “I won’t get hurt. I have you to protect me.”

Instead of reassuring him, her statement only made his face tighten more. He pulled her close, until her head rested on his chest and his arms enfolded her. Gwen closed her eyes and leaned into the embrace, letting his touch fill her.

“And what if that’s not enough?” he murmured. “I prayed today, Gwen. I prayed for your safety, and the Lord answered me.”

Gwen leaned back to look up at him. “You see? I told you He answers prayer.”

“And I have a feeling He expects us not to put ourselves in a position where we need Him to answer again,” he returned.

Gwen sighed, allowing herself the luxury of one more moment in his arms. “I’m sure you’re right. But when I see something that needs doing, I can’t sit idly by.”

“Even if others are capable of solving the problem?”

How could she answer? She could not claim her father incapable without risking his position. And,
despite last night, she was certain he was getting better by the day. As for Trevor, well, she thought very little was beyond his skill.

She had fallen into the role of managing Blackcliff, first for Colonel Umbrey and then for her father. With her mother gone, she felt as if she’d taken on the burden for the entire village, as well. And many days, that burden felt far too heavy for her to carry alone.