The Trials of Alaric (Twist Upon a Regency Tale #8)

Chapter Twenty-Two

W ithin an hour, Alaric had satisfied both priorities, and was well-pleased with life.

After the portrait gallery, Eloise and Bea went off together, Eloise pale and determined. Alaric visited the earl’s study, and Tarquin returned to his bedroom suite to wait. Alaric joined him once he had the longest and most confusing verse of them all.

The sixth clue made no sense at all, yet. But he had to solve it and so he would. It was the last in the treasure hunt, the earl said, and there was only one more trial. An interview of sorts would be held tomorrow. “A test of understanding,” said Claddach. Whatever that meant.

Alaric had until that test to complete the treasure hunt and win the treasure, when the only treasure he wanted was Bea. Her smiles, her incisive remarks, her kisses, her loyalty to those she loved, her kindnesses, and her kisses. You have already said kisses , he reminded himself. But it bore repeating.

“Did Lord Claddach give you the next clue?” said Tarquin.

Alaric had forgotten his brother was even in the room. He had been in a daze since the portrait gallery, where Tarquin and Eloise had disappeared into an alcove and Bea and Alaric had celebrated finding the Odyssey panel they needed with an embrace.

None of Alaric’s previous experiences had prepared him for kissing Bea. It was all consuming. He could have kissed her, just kissed her, and touched her breasts, for hours. Even though he wanted more—wanted everything—he wouldn’t dishonor her. Not when he had not yet been given the right.

And somehow, it didn’t matter. Kissing and cuddling had always been a preliminary—to be given the necessary time, since women enjoyed the culmination more that way—but only a stage in the journey to what he really wanted. With Bea, it was different. He wanted her kisses. He wanted her embraces. They satisfied him, thrilled him, in a way that had nothing to do with the physical. He would rather have a single touch of her hand than to bed the most skilled courtesan in all the world.

In fact, even thinking of some of his previous experiences felt wrong. In his heart, he was Bea’s, and she was his. No other woman would ever do. Not ever again.

When he had told Tarquin that, his brother had nodded. “You love her, and you want to make her your wife, your own. Naturally, every other physical encounter pales by comparison.”

It was true, and even if he had been of a mind to deny it, the evidence was clear. He loved Bea.

“The clue?” Tarquin asked.

Alaric dragged his mind from Bea’s soft lips and firm curves. “Sorry.”

Tarquin grinned. “You are in love, and if I must repeat myself half a dozen times, so be it. The clue?”

“Yes. The clue.” Alaric had it clutched in his hand. He opened it and read it out loud.

“The hidden doors the secret keeps

“Till opened by uneasy sleep.

“Where knights once watched for pirates bold

“Discover, man, the secret gold.

“Learn from our verses, if you’re smart.

“The trove you seek is Claddach’s heart.”

“I do not understand any of it,” said Tarquin, taking the paper from Alaric and scanning the words as he spoke. “No. It doesn’t make any more sense to me when I read it myself. Were they all like this?”

“Not really,” Alaric said, then reconsidered. Some of them had seemed impossible, at least at first. “Or perhaps. They have all been hard to interpret. If this one refers to a famous love story, then I have no idea which one. Well. Perhaps Bea has an idea.”

“You know it is a good sign, don’t you, when the lady you are trying to win is helping you to do so.”

“I think she has decided I am the best consort for Claddach,” Alaric confided. “After all, it was for the island’s sake that she agreed to choose from those who succeeded in her father’s trials.”

“Yes, but surely falling in love with you changes that,” Tarquin argued.

“In love?” Alaric said. “She is attracted to me, Tarquin, but she is not in love. At least, I do not think she is. She hasn’t said.”

Tarquin sighed. “I suppose you haven’t told her that you love her. Why not, Alaric?”

“I do not want to burden her with my feelings.”

His brother shook his head, but if he had more to say, he didn’t speak it, for the door opened, and his wife entered, her eyes damp and shining, but her smile broad.

“Alaric, your Lady Bea was so kind,” she said. “I am quite forgiven, though I do not deserve it after the wicked things I allowed Tarquin and your father to believe. She said, if you have forgiven me, Alaric, when you were the one most sinned against, then that is all to be said about the matter.”

She stepped into her husband’s waiting arms. “She said she quite understood why I was afraid to say anything, and she is glad that Tarquin is such a wonderful person. Tarquin, she said I was not a sinner, but that I had been sinned against.”

“That is what I have been telling you,” Tarquin told her, kissing her hair.

“Is she downstairs?” Alaric asked.

“Yes, in the green parlor. Refreshments are going to be served, but I said I needed to wash my face.”

“I will see you soon then,” said Alaric, and hurried downstairs, giving the couple their privacy.

*

Bea had never admired Alaric more. Poor Eloise! But poor Alaric, too, to have been accused of such a dreadful thing and to have his own brother and father believe it. How wonderful he was to not only forgive his sister-in-law, but to immediately volunteer to help his brother rescue her.

Even so, her conversation with Eloise had unsettled Bea. It was not jealousy. Eloise had said quite enough for Bea to be certain that the lady was head over heels in love with her husband. But Alaric must have loved her once. He had asked her to marry him. He had been jilted in favor of his brother. Did seeing her again bring back all that pain?

“Bea?”

Bea blinked at the sound of her name, and realized she was sitting in the parlor with the other young ladies and ignoring them all in favor of thinking about Alaric.

“I apologize, Ellie,” Bea said. “I was distracted for a moment. I did not mean to be rude.”

“She is thinking about Mr. Redhaven,” said Cousin Dorrie, and she and her sister giggled.

“Why should she not?” Reina asked. “He is handsome, clever, kind, and attentive.”

“He is also the front runner in the trials,” Christina pointed out. “He and Lord Lucas, but we all know Lord Lucas only has eyes for Ellie.”

“In fact,” said Cousin Lucy, “with my brother gone, Sir Henry Dashwood doing so poorly in the trials, Lord Lucas disqualifying himself by falling in love with Ellie, and Ambrose Howard making up to Dorrie, it is just as well Mr. Redhaven is so gorgeous, Bea. I would not want to have to choose between Fairweather and Meadowsweet. No offense to your brother, Ellie.”

“Mr. Meadowsweet has also expressed an interest in another lady of the house party,” said Sarah Howard, with a smug smile.

“Oh my,” Dorrie said. “Another one drops off Bea’s list.”

Lucy smirked. “A choice between Fairweather and Redhaven is no choice at all, especially now that Mr. Redhaven is reconciled with his brother. What do you think, Dorrie? Is Mr. Redhaven still in love with his brother’s wife?”

Aunt Jane, whom the sisters had clearly forgotten, observed, “Dorothy’s conversation has been bordering on the vulgar, young ladies, but Lucy has just slipped over that border. Another topic if you please.”

“You asked me a question, Ellie,” Bea reminded her friend.

“I did? Oh yes. I asked about the plans for tomorrow.”

Papa planned to interview each of the leading aspirants for her hand, but Lucy was right. The list was down to two at most. There was no reason why the rest of the gentlemen could not join the ladies for an excursion. Having them out of the house would also give Papa time for a rest, which he must have needed after the exertions earlier in the day.

“Would you care to visit the ruins of St. Benigna’s Abbey? Those who wish to sketch could do so, and there’s a hermit’s cell part way up the nearby hill, for those who would prefer to walk up to see the view. We could take a picnic.”

The door opened and Mr. Howard walked inside. “So, this is where you have hidden yourselves,” he said. “Fairweather? Meadowsweet? The ladies are here.”

Dorrie began telling the gentlemen about the visit to the abbey ruins, and then had to start again when first Luke, and then Alaric arrived. Lord and Lady Stavely joined them a few minutes later and were the next to hear of the planned expedition.

After that, it was all repeated to Mr. and Mrs. Howard and Lady Dashwood, who had been walking in the garden, then to Mr. Maddrell and Mr. Whittington, and finally to Papa and Lord Lewiston.

“An excellent idea,” Papa told her. “However, I shall need Mr. Redhaven and Mr. Fairweather during the morning. Perhaps they can join you in time for lunch?”

That was it then. The final trial and only two of them left. Bea presided over the tea pot, but her mind was on her trial, which was still to come. How would she turn Mr. Fairweather down? She had no experience with proposals, either refusing them or accepting them. More importantly, how would she find out whether Alaric loved her?

Papa was pouring drinks for those who preferred something alcoholic, attracting most of the men to the large sideboard, but Alaric came to sit beside her. “Bea, I have the next clue, and it is the last,” he murmured, his voice too low for others to hear. “Can we meet somewhere so I can show it to you? Perhaps the portrait gallery?”

She found herself thinking about how to divest herself of all the other guests and her aunt, so she could have another of his mind-altering kisses. No. Not an hour ago, they had agreed to wait until the trials were over. His eyes dropped to her lips, and she knew he was thinking about it too.

“After dinner,” she said, her voice husky, and she swallowed before she spoke again, her voice more normal, this time. “I shall suggest a stroll in the portrait gallery. If you and I walk together with your brother and sister, or perhaps Luke and Ellie, we can stay apart from the others without attracting comment.”

It was easy enough. Nothing had been arranged for the evening beyond the usual cards and the expectation that some of the young ladies would sing or play the piano. Bea suggested a walk before they settled to the evening pursuits, and most of the young people accepted. Bea noted with some amusement that Sir Henry Dashwood, having had an interview with Papa before dinner, ignored Bea and gave all his focus to Lucy.

So much for having his heart broken, but poor Sir Henry. Bea doubted Lucy would have him, or that Uncle Lewiston would allow a proposal even if Lucy were interested.

“Dashwood did not take long to shift his interest,” said Ellie. “He would be better to leave the house party and try elsewhere.”

“Why is that?” Eloise asked. “He is a baronet, and passably attractive.”

Ellie replied, “If one lacks a high title, a fortune, or looks that are more than ordinary, one should at least practice being agreeable.” Which was acerbic, but true.

“Oh,” was Eloise’s only comment.

“Bea?” Alaric said.

Bea looked at her friends and the Stavelys, whom she believed would become friends. “Would you please allow us a moment to discuss the last clue in the treasure hunt?”

Luke’s eyes widened. “Alaric, you’ve solved the clues?”

“Five of them,” Alaric admitted, “with Bea’s help, and Tarquin’s on the fourth clue. This is the sixth and last, and I don’t even know where to start.”

“I gave up after two,” Luke admitted. “By the time I received the third, Ellie and I… Well, there didn’t seem to be any point.”

“Show it to us all,” Tarquin suggested. “Let us see what we make of it.”

It was a good idea, and Alaric must have agreed, for he nodded. “We need to make sure the others don’t see us reading and ask what we have,” he said.

Bea couldn’t see the problem. He had won, after all, even without the treasure hunt. However, the others agreed, and moved together to mask Bea as Alaric handed her the clue.

She read it carefully and then gave it to Ellie to read. Ellie passed it to Eloise. Tarquin passed it to Luke, saying, “I have read it.”

“Any thoughts?” Alaric asked, when Luke looked up from the piece of paper.

Bea spoke first. “We have watchtowers all along the coast to warn us of pirates, but the mention of knights makes me think the verse must mean one of those here in the castle.”

“The one nearest the coast, I imagine,” Eloise said.

“Yes,” Bea nodded. “It could be the highest tower of the keep, but I think the more likely answer is one of the watchtowers at the ends of the inner wall.”

“Is that where we will find the hidden doors?” Tarquin wondered.

“Possibly,” Alaric agreed. “The only other clue that might be intended to give us a location is ‘uneasy sleep,’ which might mean one of the bedchambers.”

“Let’s look at the watchtowers before breakfast,” Luke suggested. “What about the last two lines? By the way, the three clues I’ve seen only had four verses.”

“All of the other clues had four verses,” Alaric confirmed. “They were all about famous love stories. Romeo and Juliet. Odysseus and Penelope. That sort of thing. What is the lesson learned? Most of them had tragic ends.”

“The trove you seek is Claddach’s heart,” Eloise repeated. “The heart of Lord Claddach? Or the isle of Claddach?”

Her. The answer to that part of the clue was Bea herself. Her father had made it clear from the time he began to train her as his successor that he, his predecessors, and his successors were the heart of Claddach. But perhaps the line had other meanings and, besides, Bea couldn’t refer to herself as the “heart of Claddach.” Alaric might believe he had to win her heart, and the truth was, he already had it.

“We shall meet by the front door in the morning,” she declared. “If that suits you all? At seven?”

They agreed, and just in time, for Dashwood approached with Lucy on his arm to say they were returning to the drawing room.

Their time to conspire on the clue was over for the evening.

*

Alaric was not comfortable. His bed had always been narrow, and high, but until tonight, he had slept well enough. Tonight, it seemed as if the mattress had developed hard lumps. Or, at least, a hard lump .

He had wriggled around until he was able to avoid it, but as soon as he fell asleep, he shifted, and the lump woke him again. In the early hours of the morning, he gave up, lit a spill from the embers of the fire to light a lamp, and went looking for whatever had got into his bed.

After stripping off all the blankets and sheets, he had a bed base and a stack of mattresses. Very thin ones, all filled with down. No wonder the bed was so high! He had never seen so many mattresses all piled one upon another.

Finding the lump with his hand, he used the other hand to search between the mattresses. He found the object three mattresses down and pulled it out. It was a ring of keys. Two large metal keys and a small one, all of the old-fashioned sort.

“Till opened by uneasy sleep,” he repeated. The keys to the hidden doors? He certainly hoped so!

Now to find the doors. Alaric remade the bed and slept soundly for the rest of the night, but the keys did not leave his hand.