Page 7 of A Tenuous Betrothal
The servants hurried forward.
A dark presence joined them a few minutes later. Marc could see what Miss Davies had meant by her uncle being slippery. The man now stood in the doorframe that moments earlier had been empty. “The safe should be sufficient, I assure you. I don’t sleep with the jewels.” Her uncle’s voice slid like oil over Marc’s skin.
Miss Davies deliberately schooled her features before turning to him. The effort was obvious. “Uncle.”
“Really, Rhi. I was keeping them safe for you, naturally. That cabin does not have any security.”
Marc stood taller. “And yet you housed your niece there? Surely, servants could have been dispatched for security.”
But the uncle merely shrugged.
Marc chose to ignore the man’s suggestion to stick with the safe. However, he did wish to start there. “The key, if you please.”
A servant offered a small satchel with a key inside. Marc moved closer and worked the lock himself. When the safe opened, there did, in fact, seem to be jewels inside. “Come, Miss Davies. Are these what you were seeking?”
Her shoulder brushed his as she reached for the first bag. A soft aroma of flowers filled his senses for a moment. When their fingers brushed, she paused and turned her eyes up to his. Their soft pools invited questions, things he was not willing to consider. Things like, what would it be like to pursue such a woman? He stood quickly, which he wished he could have avoided. A quick retreat was as telling as a moment of flirtation would have been, and neither were acceptable choices for a man who desperately hoped to avoid an arranged marriage.
As he stepped back to allow more room for Miss Davies to search the safe, his father’s words returned to him, spoken in all earnestness.“You must do as requested. She must return to Oldenburg. It is the only way for me to ensure her safety and honor my promise to her father.”
Marc had had the whole of his ocean voyage to consider his father’s words, to wonder what his purpose for retrieving Miss Davies could be, since his father hadn’t explained what exactly that promise had been. The announcement that Father had offered one of his sons to Miss Davies in marriage had come as a shock. In all Marc’s suppositions, marriage had not even vaguely entered his mind. His father didn’t do anything without considerable thought and planning. What had he seen in this situation to indicate that Marc was the son for whom to arrange such a match? Marc had asked himself that question over and over in the last hour.
As he became more aware of Miss Davies’s plight, he understood one reason for the choice, and his hope grew that perhaps once they arrived in Oldenburg, or if they ventured to London, she might marry anyone, not necessarily him. Marc’s part in all this was obviously important in the rescue aspect. As head of security in Oldenburg, he was most suited to assist her in escaping her uncle with her belongings and servants. But after? Could she not wed any man as long as he were the decent sort?
Marc endeavored to push from his mind any thoughts not immediately related to their current circumstances, which he knew would require careful effort. “And the mattresses?” he said to the two servants who stood closest to the bed. Their furtive glances toward Miss Davies’s uncle were all Marc needed to take a few strides and be at their side. “Let me make my own investigations here, shall I?”
They stepped aside, and was it Marc’s imagination, or did the nearest footman wink at him? He might be inclined to convince more of the staff to join them in Oldenburg than he’d originally planned. These good people did not deserve the nightmare that was Miss Davies’s uncle. Marc went down on his knee and reached his hand in through a side slit in the mattress. He dug through the wood shavings and feathers, between strips of fabric, trying not to breathe in the accompanying musty smell. For a moment he thought there was nothing, but as he stretched, his fingers came across a lump. “The whole thing must be removed.”
“Just a moment.” The uncle stepped closer. “I do not feel that will be necessary.”
“As I have just discovered items in your mattress ticking, I will have to disagree.”
“There are jewels missing from the safe.” Miss Davies’s concerned voice from behind Marc cinched the decision.
He turned to her uncle. “If you would perhaps remember where the other items might have been placed for safekeeping, it would save us the effort and the upheaval of digging through everything.” He met her uncle’s gaze and did not waver. The man was weak, he was dishonest, and he was definitely slippery, and Marc would not be moved by such a person.
Mr. Davies’s face turned red again, but then he waved his hand and turned to the window. “Oh, if I must.”
A footman moved forward and with careful precision removed four small bags of jewels from the mattress. He approached Marc but was waved on to Miss Davies.
Her eyes shone with gratitude, and then she snatched the bags up, searching each one. “There is still the matter of Mother’s tiara.”
Her uncle’s jawline twitched, and then he moved to his dressing table, opened a drawer, and brought out a small tiara set with jewels.
Marc found the item curious. The women in his country wore such pieces of jewelry to define their position in the nobility, but he said nothing. When it, too, was at last in Miss Davies’s hands, she carried everything herself out of the room, and Marc followed.
Once they were in the corridor, she breathed deeply. “Thank you. I couldn’t bear to be in that room another minute.”
“Where else do we need to look?”
“Just the attics and Mother’s room, and then we must pay a visit to Aeron Thomas, our foreman.”
“We will take care of it.”
Her uncle’s footsteps approached from behind them. “You’re welcome to stay here tonight. I imagine you will be off tomorrow.” His overly hopeful tones were not lost on Marc, or Miss Davies, judging by her none-too-subtle snort.
She and Marc ignored him, and walked away as Miss Davies said, “Perhaps the stables as well.”
“Have you a horse?”
