Page 66 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl
Chapter 23
Andrew frowned at the map that his uncle had drawn. It detailed a part of the estate that he barely knew. Somewhere right up at the top, near the woodlands, was the river. It was that river that his uncle had drawn, noting the paths to it, some of which still existed. He had also drawn a structure of some kind on the riverbank. He could recall no such thing.
“A cottage?” Emmeline suggested. “An outbuilding, mayhap a stable?”
Andrew stared. A memory cannoned into him. He was eight years old, Ambrose almost twelve, and they had gone with Uncle on a ride to the river. On the riverbank had been an abandoned boathouse.
“The boathouse!” He frowned. “But nobody went in there. It wasn’t allowed. The place was falling down.”
Emmeline stared. Her beautiful green eyes were catlike in the light.
“It could be there.”
Andrew nodded slowly. “It could be.” If this treasure was hidden in a place where nobody ever went, it explained why nobody had discovered it accidentally. “But it’s dangerous,” he murmured. “I can’t take you in there.”
Emmeline shot him a look. “If I can ride my uncle’s horse, I can risk going into an old boathouse.”
Andrew drew breath to argue, then let it out in a sigh. “Very well. But if we hear the slightest sound, we’re both coming out. I am not sitting idly by while you get crushed by a roof beam.”
Emmeline giggled. “Good,” she replied.
Andrew smiled.
He took a deep breath and stood up from the desk. “Let’s go,” he said, staring out of the window. “While we still have light to see.” It was later than he had thought—the shadows were lengthening, and it was almost dinnertime.
“Very well.”
They went to the door and Andrew unlocked it, checking to see that neither of the cousins was there to see them. Then they hurried down the hallway and out into the garden.
Emmeline still wore his coat, and Andrew was glad because the afternoon was cold, clouds blowing in from the north. Only two paths tothe river were still able to be used, and he led her up past the stables and across into the woodland.
“Uncle brought us here when we were children,” he explained as Emmeline hurried beside him.
“I wonder if that was when he had guessed the treasure’s location?” Emmeline asked.
Andrew shrugged. “I don’t know. It must have taken years for him to find out.”
They could hear the river now and Andrew walked faster, unable to shake the sense that they were being followed. Under the trees, it was dark already and his heart raced. They hurried to the riverbank.
“There!” Andrew called, the roar of the river drowning his words. The river was perhaps eight feet wide, but the recent rains had filled it and transformed it into a raging torrent that raced and roared past the bank. He could see the boathouse plainly—it was on the other bank, perhaps ten feet down from where they stood. “We can cross there,” he suggested, pointing to a log bridge. “I’ll help you,” he added.
Emmeline drew a breath. “It can’t be scarier than riding Firelight.”
“Your uncle’s horse?” he asked, recalling that first day when he had seen her.
“Yes.”
“Probably not,” he agreed. He took a deep breath and walked across. The bridge was quite wide, and if one forgot that one was walking over a raging river, it was not in the least frightening. He turned and looked at Emmeline.
Her face was hard, and he could see she was trying not to be afraid. She took a step onto the logs, and pride flooded through him as she walked slowly, hesitatingly, over to him.
“Hurrah!” he shouted as she jumped onto the other bank.
She exhaled wearily. “That was hopefully the only scary thing that will happen this evening.”
“Well, we have to cross in the same way when we’ve been in,” Andrew teased.
Emmeline made a wry face and he laughed.
