Philip snorted. “It is highly doubtful. He was a proper lord, after all, but our father might have been involved in smuggling activity.”
“That is a possibility, of course, but perhaps no one in your family utilized this room.” Hawk frowned as he looked about. “There might have been someone else responsible. Perhaps servants had been using Brambleberry Cottage for their own nefarious purposes.”
“Oh, no!” Belle sucked in a breath as clarity poured in. “The steward. He left when my husband died.”
“Ah.” Hawk nodded. In the light of the single candle Philip still held, his face has paled considerably. “It’s possible he and the viscount had indeed found Napoleon’s stolen stash. Knowing what they did of dear old Philip,” he tossed a look of loathing at her brother-in-law, “they no doubt relocated the cache until other arrangements could be made.”
“Then Laurence died, and the treasure was left to memories until you came along.” Had it only been a week since she’d met him? Truly, it seemed a lifetime ago.
“Indeed.” Hawk nodded. He leaned his good shoulder against one of the walls. Pain etched across his face. How long would it be before he completely collapsed? “Perhaps the steward was frightened away—or threatened—or he left for London for assistance from someone he trusted but then was waylaid.”
Philip snorted. “A fairy story to be sure. The man was nothing but a bounder.”
“No.” Belle gasped and moved a hand to her throat, for it was inconceivable such evil lurked in the room with her. “I think, instead, he ran into you, Philip, and you beat the secret out of him before you forever silenced him.”
“You are entirely too clever for your own good, Amelia.” His eyes glittered, with greed or madness, she couldn’t say. He gestured with the pistol then set the candleholder into a shelf of sorts dug out of the earthen wall. “Help me remove these sheets. I suspect the treasure is here.”
“I would like to see if that is true as well.” A trace of excitement echoed in Hawk’s voice as he tugged at the nearest dust cover. Once they’d made short work of the task, he groaned, and her heart dropped into her throat.
“Hang on, Montague. It’s nearly over,” she whispered, and touched a hand to his. Then she truly looked at the items they’d uncovered. “Merciful heavens. This is incredible.”
Paintings in heavy gilt frames rested in vertical stacks against one wall. Medium-sized, moldy, leather-bound trunks full of silver goods and golden coins yawned innocently near another. Sparkling jewelry full of gemstones—some of the pieces were huge and worth countless fortunes—waited in brocade upholstered caskets. To say nothing of numerous bolts of silk and other luxurious fabrics from the Orient and beyond.
Belle squeezed Hawk’s fingers. “You have completed your mission.”
“Not quite.” He grunted. In the anemic illumination, blood had begun to seep through the petticoat bandage. “In order for me to do that, I need to protect it from this maniac.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, Captain, but I must be going.” Philip pointed the nose of his pistol at her head. “Help me move all of this out into the tunnel.”
She gasped. “You’re stealing it?”
“What did you think I would do with it, Amelia?” The man chuckled, and the sound grated across her nerves. “I am a desperate man.”
“This belongs to its original owners or at least given over to the British Museum.” She propped her hands on her hips. “Some of this is French in style and craftsmanship. Possibly stolen from the d'Orléans line.” The elegance was staggering, as was the value.
“Which is why it’s worth several fortunes. That will be mine soon.”
“Absolutely not.” Belle shook her head, ignoring the dark pistol pointed at her. “You could flee to America instead.”
He snorted. “Do you think that will stop my creditors? They are very annoyed and will no doubt follow me.” The cock of his pistol in the near darkness echoed deep into her soul. “Now move.” When she didn’t immediately follow his order, he suddenly lashed out and cold cocked Hawk with the butt of the pistol.
“Oomph!” The captain collapsed to the ground, temporarily unconscious.
“No!” Belle screamed out her anguish as she tried to push Philip away so she could go to Hawk’s aid.
“When I tell you to do something, you do it.” He yanked at her arm and shoved her toward one of the trunks. “Let’s go.”
“What of Hawk?”
Philip shrugged. “He’s not an issue just now, and you will behave while he’s here and possibly bleeding out. That is my guarantee you will comply.”
“When did you become such an ogre.”
“Who can say?” He prodded her into movement with a nudge from his pistol. “Stupidly, you are besotted with the good captain, so if I’m pleased with your assistance, perhaps I won’t leave you both here to die.”
Fury erupted inside her chest, but she did as he asked. For the love of Hawk, she would try to appease her brother-in-law so she could quickly return to the captain’s side. Additionally, if he were to shoot her, she couldn’t help either of them to escape.
Finally, all the treasure was moved into the tunnel. When she assumed Philip would make her carry some of it up the stairs to the dower house, he unexpectedly turned on her at the door, shoved her into the earth-walled room, and then dropped the heavy piece of wood into the metal holders and effectively locked the door.