Page 37 of One Wicked Secret
“The spade isn’t for the pond, Elsa.” He kept his voice low and scanned their gloomy surroundings, but his aim was to soften the impending blow. “I suspect your father buried his journal close to the obelisk. I’m sorry, but we need to dig near your mother’s memorial.”
Rothley quickly excused himself and went to fetch provisions.
Shock had Elsa clutching her chest, unable to respond. As the reality of the situation sank in, she sighed and said, “I suppose there’s nothing more to do. We’ve looked everywhere else.”
“We can’t leave here without exploring every possibility.” Without the journal, they would live in a state of limbo.Unable to move forward. Forever looking back. “I’m confident our luck will change if we find the book.”
“None of this makes sense. I doubt my father was clever enough to think so strategically. He lacked your prudence for investing and almost bankrupted the estate.”
Magnus had told a similar tale of years spent trying to fix his father’s mistakes.
Daniel reached for her, sliding his arm around her waist, relieved she didn’t flinch or pull away. Their passionate kiss was the first step on a long road to recovery. Yet he feared the villain would be lurking around every shady corner, keen to hinder their progress.
“We’ll begin with the pond,” he said, leading her out of the hothouse, the chill in the air making them both shiver.
Rothley appeared with two lit lanterns, one hanging on a metal crook. “Is there a gardener’s tool shed nearby?”
“No, but there’s a trowel in the hothouse,” she said, fetching the implement and a pair of soil-stained canvas gloves.
Holding their lanterns aloft, Elsa led them to the secluded glade surrounded by fruit trees. At its heart stood the marble obelisk, the ornate pond and her mother’s beloved oak bench.
Elsa gestured to the trimmed box hedge bordering the weeded rose beds. “You had your gardener work here, too?”
“I wasn’t sure when we’d return to Chippenham, and I didn’t want your mother’s memorial garden left neglected.”
Her eyes softened. She stroked the back rail of the bench as if her mother sat there. “This is exactly how I remember it, apart from the warmth of the midday sun.”
“I’ll introduce you to Albert tomorrow. You can give him a list of tasks you’d like completed. He’ll show you around the orangery at Thorncroft,” he said, knowing it would takemore than a thriving rose bush to make her feel at home there.
Elsa held his gaze and smiled, a quiet ‘thank you’ in her eyes.
Rothley coughed to gain their attention, suggesting they focus on retrieving the novel from the pond before they froze to death.
Daniel plunged the iron crook into the soil and hung the lantern. He placed his footman’s coat on the bench and noted Elsa’s gaze lingering on his forearm as he rolled up his shirt sleeves.
Her eyes journeyed over the dark hair and curve of his muscle. Perhaps she was unaware of the quiet desire in her stare. He wasn’t. The power of her attention sent blood racing to his loins.
Dipping his fingers into the bitter water did little to settle his pulse. “Brrr! It’s cold enough to freeze a man’s bones. I forgot to ask—are there fish in here?”
“Not anymore, but mind the young frogs.”
The pond was small, barely four-foot square. He crouched and slipped his hand farther into the frigid water. Trailing weeds coiled around his fingers, a slick film of slime coating every digit.
“You’ll find a pile of halfpennies at the bottom.” Elsa peered into the pool’s murky depths. “My mother used to tell me old Danish stories of hidden magic and sacred waters.” Elsa’s light laugh spoke of fond memories. “Cast a coin where waters sleep, where old gods stir and secrets keep.”
“You made secret wishes as a child?” he asked, swirling his fingers as he delved deeper until the water lapped his elbow.
“Not just as a child.” She moved to a stone toadstoolornament to take two halfpennies hidden underneath. “I made a wish six months ago. You’re only allowed one a year.”
Six months ago?
Had she wished for an attentive husband? One who danced with her in the moonlight? One whose kisses led to an erotic adventure? If so, he needed to make up for lost time.
She handed Rothley a coin.
He tried to refuse it. “I mean no disrespect, but I’d rather eat my fingers for supper than dance around a pond at night chanting nonsense.”
Elsa thrust the coin into Rothley’s palm. “Science proves we should have faith in things we don’t see or believe.” She placed the other halfpenny on the pond’s stone rim. “What matters is your intention. Be specific about what you wish for. Maybe you’d like the answer to a secret.”
