The Devil Earl (35 page)

Taking up the light once more, Sebastian held it close and peered inside. He could see several low shapes that looked like barrels and crates. “There is something in there,” he said. “Perhaps the remains of some old shipment.”

While his attention was fixed upon the interior, Prudence ducked underneath him and stepped over the rubble
into the darkness, sending his heart into his throat. “Pru! Wait, damn it! The bottom might not be steady, or the ceiling could be unstable. The whole place might go!”

“Nonsense,” Prudence called over her shoulder. “This is simply another part of the cavern, as safe as the rest of it. Yet someone sealed it off. I wonder why?”

Releasing a low string of curses, Sebastian followed her, for he had no choice. At least the ground seemed solid beneath his feet. Keeping a wary eye on the opening, he set the lantern down and glanced around. “I hate to spoil your fun, but maybe we could come back later, with brace beams and lamps. As much as I adore you, Pru, I have no desire to be buried alive with you for all eternity.”

He might as well not have spoken, for she was intent upon a lid, running her hand along the top, without thought of vermin or dirt. “These have been here a long time, Sebastian. Why, the dust here is thicker than on the containers in the French wine cellar.”

“I am not surprised. The very air smells old,” Sebastian replied, wrinkling his nose at the musty stench. Stepping closer to one of the boxes, he lifted an ancient tarp, only to feel it crumble in his hands. What the devil?

“Sebastian.” The crack in Pru’s voice made him turn toward her immediately, as visions of tons of cliff rock crashing down upon them leapt to mind. But all was still, and she was looking down, not up, at a chest.

Lifting the lantern again, Sebastian moved to her side, and immediately the light caught and glittered off gold. As she pushed back the top, he bent closer and sucked in a deep breath at what he saw. The box was filled with what appeared to be coins, gleaming with an unmistakable cast. Picking up one of them, Sebastian turned it over in his fingers. “Spanish!”

“The Devil Earl really must have been a pirate,” Pru mused.

“What?” Sebastian glanced at her in surprise.

“I would guess that he made a fortune harrying the Spanish, and this secret store is his private booty, put away against a future that was cut short by his own wife.”

Sebastian dropped the coin back into its nest. “The blackguard. No wonder he went through his inheritance so quickly. He had all this put away for later use.”

“Yes,” Pru said, smiling up at him. “And now, I believe it accrues to you, as the rightful heir of Ravenscar, my lord.”

She was right. This was not free-traders’ goods, to be turned over to excisemen, but pirate booty, stolen more than two hundred years ago from the Spanish. Legally, it belonged solely to Wolfinger Abbey and its inhabitants.

Sebastian thought of how eagerly his uncle would have spent such a fortune, of how rapidly he could have gone through it in his own dissipated youth, and he was thankful that it had remained hidden until now.

Now. The knowledge that this fortune was here, in his hands, available for his use, made him nearly dizzy. He could shore up his dwindling accounts, restore Wolfinger, reestablish the Ravenscar heritage—and provide for his wife and family. Beside him, Prudence had been strangely quiet. He glanced at her curiously.

“Maybe the Devil Earl will rest in peace now,” she said, her voice a low hush in the tomblike space.

“More likely, his wife will rest in peace,” Sebastian replied wryly. “She might have had a care for the future, but I doubt that the old pirate would want to share his booty with anyone—even his namesake!”

As if signaling the dead man’s agreement, wind suddenly whipped through the cavern, rattling the old tarps and howling like a banshee. Sebastian, who had thought himself inured to the abbey’s little eccentricities, felt the hair rise on the back of his neck.

“Come on, Pru,” he said. Leaving the lantern, he grasped the chest, pulling it and pushing Prudence toward the opening just as the walls started creaking ominously.

The rumbling grew into a thud and a crash, and Prudence threw herself through the opening to the cavern. “Sebastian, forget the gold!” she cried, but it came out a low croak, drowned out by the thunderous roar of rock collapsing. She fell forward, and the world went black.

W
hen all was quiet again, Prudence raised herself on her elbows. She could see nothing but the entrance to the cave, where the water glittered under a faint moon, just as if the night were as serene as it had been a minute before. Perhaps, out there, it was, for the sea continued its rhythms, undisturbed by human folly.

And what folly it had been to go dashing into an underground chamber in the middle of the night! Prudence shook her head, sending plaster dust and dirt into her eyes and nose. She coughed so violently that she jerked, realizing then that her legs were pinned under something—Sebastian’s driftwood, perhaps…

“Sebastian!” Prudence cried out his name, sudden panic giving her the strength to crawl forward until she was free. Whirling around, she searched the blackness for him, but without the lantern, she could see nothing.

“Sebastian!” It was a scream this time, the first one ever to leave her throat. Prudence Lancaster, gothic authoress, fearless seeker of ghosts and specters and hidden tunnels, was well and truly frightened. Her hands shook, and tears streamed down her face as she clawed at the pile of rubble.

“Sebastian!”

A bob of light appeared in the darkness, and Prudence turned to see Mr. Worth, a lantern in one hand and the
blunderbuss in the other, peeking out of the passageway. ”Who goes there?” he cried in a shaken voice.

“Mr. Worth, help! Help me!” Prudence’s incoherent pleas seemed to scare the poor man, for he leapt back, training the gun directly on where she struggled in the dirt.

“Merciful God, what it is?” he whimpered, and for a moment, Prudence thought he might shoot her. Did it matter? If anything had happened to Sebastian, she did not care if she was killed. How would she go on living without the man who was a part of her?

“Mr. Worth, please,” she begged, her normally quick wits scattered by the thought of Sebastian lying under piles of cliff stone. “Bring the light over here. Sebastian—”

“Are you…are you the Devil Earl’s wife?” Mr. Worth asked.

“Not yet!” Prudence snapped, anger clearing her thoughts. “Nor will I be, until you help me find him!”

“Prudence, is that you?” Another voice, a
sane
voice, echoed in the cavern, and behind the worthless Mr. Worth, Prudence recognized Sebastian’s brother, holding another lamp. She had never been so glad to see anyone in her life.

“James! Oh, thank God! Help me! Sebastian is hurt!”

In an instant, he was at her side, in nothing but barely buttoned breeches and boots, his long hair falling into his face as he bent over the pile of rubble. Mr. Worth, still leery, approached more slowly.

“There was a cave-in, and—”

“Here he is!” James said, and with a shaky sigh of relief, Prudence saw Sebastian’s white face pressed into the ground. “He’s buried under some rock here. Damn! I wish I had my men,” James muttered, but he was already throwing off stones and chunks of plaster rapidly. “What the devil?” His fingers found the hard and heavy edge of the chest.

“I don’t think that is weighing on him, because he was dragging it behind him,” Prudence explained. Without
further questions, James continued his task, tossing aside whatever covered his brother, while Prudence brushed away what she could of the dirt. Finally, they could see all of the earl’s tall, lean form, but still Sebastian did not move or speak, and when they brought the lantern close, Prudence groaned. He was bleeding from several cuts, including a nasty-looking gash on his head, and one of his long legs was bent at an odd angle.

“It must be broken,” James said. He touched the limb gently, and Sebastian moaned, his eyes fluttering open.

“Easy, now,” James said.

“James,” Sebastian muttered. Then he glanced at Prudence. Suddenly, she was acutely aware of her appearance. Her face was black and streaked with tears, and the tattered remains of her robe exposed more flesh than it covered. She tried to tug it close, and then gave up. Nothing mattered except Sebastian. If only he was not mortally injured…

“Prudence, when I can stand again, I am going to wring your neck,” he promised before closing his eyes.

“Worth, come here and help me get the earl upstairs,” James ordered, with a grin. Apparently, he had decided that Sebastian was going to be fine. “Have you no earthshattering revelations to report after your brush with death, brother dear?”

“Yes,” Sebastian said, his lashes lifting again. “Contrary to my previous belief, Prudence is
not
always right.”

The doctor was dragged forcibly into Wolfinger, his obvious superstitious bent disappearing only while he treated his patient. He set Sebastian’s leg capably, but his recommendation of crutches for the earl was greeted with a hail of foul curses. Muttering dire warnings and something about “the devil getting his,” he left Sebastian to the tender care of the other abbey residents, who, by this time, were all gathered about the bed.

Mrs. Worth had prepared him some tea with a sedative, which he refused to drink. Phoebe was fluttering around worriedly, and Prudence was sitting back in a chair, still dressed in her tattered robe, exhaustion setting in.

James appeared to be the only one whose mood was less than somber. “Well, I had planned to get Phoebe settled in the cottage tomorrow and then go on to Mullion to see about raising some money, but now I am not sure,” he said, a teasing grin upon his handsome face. “Perhaps I should stay and make sure you don’t hurt yourself again.”

“James.” Sebastian’s low growl was a warning, but his brother only laughed loudly. “I am sorry, Sebastian, but I have always been so jealous of my perpetually composed and capable brother. It is a relief to see that you are as human as the rest of us—age having made your bones more brittle than some, of course.”

“James!” Phoebe looked appalled by her husband’s rudeness, but Prudence smiled shakily at the banter between the brothers.

“Maybe I will have that tea, so that I would no longer have to listen to your ill-bred barbs,” Sebastian snarled. “And the crutches will make fine cudgels, I am sure.”

“I am most dreadfully sorry for your mishap, Sebastian,” Phoebe said, stepping between James and the bed. Obviously, she thought the arguing had gone on long enough. “But I am sure Prudence and Mrs. Worth will be able to take care of you. I sent a message to Cook and our day maid that we would be back at the cottage tomorrow.”

“So you shall, love,” James said. “I was only tormenting my brother.” He sighed. “And so should I be off, to get financing for the ship.”

“I do not think that will be necessary, James,” Sebastian said, “though why I should share my good fortune with you is beyond me at this point.”

“What good fortune?”

“Prudence and I stumbled upon a store of booty last night that appears to be that of the Devil Earl himself,” Sebastian explained.

“What?” Phoebe asked, looking fearful at the very mention of the dreaded ancestor.

“And we are prepared to divide up the discovery between us, since you were so kind as to drag my ancient body from the rubble,” Sebastian added wryly.

James frowned skeptically. “What is it, a few jewels?”

“Not quite,” Sebastian said, grinning at Prudence.

“What?” Phoebe asked, catching the glint of excitement in Prudence’s eyes.

“Well, although he imperiled his own life to do so,” Prudence said, frowning at Sebastian, “your brother managed to drag out a chest full of gold.”

“What?”
James sat up in his chair.

“Enough for you to launch your shipping business, I would say,” Sebastian replied lightly. “And for Prudence and me to restore the abbey.”

“It will take a fortune to make Wolfinger habitable!” James exclaimed.

“Good thing we have a fortune, then,” Sebastian replied.

James sat back in his seat, apparently stunned by the news, while Phoebe smiled prettily. “Oh, Pru, how wonderful,” she said. “James can run his business out of the village, and we can be neighbors. But, poor Sebastian, whatever shall you do? Won’t you be bored, stuck here in this old place with a broken leg?”

Sebastian gave her a quelling look that made her step back toward her husband. “No, Phoebe, I shall not be bored. As I have said before, the abbey holds a special interest for me. And since Prudence and I are going to be married as soon as possible, I am sure she will keep me…well entertained.”

Prudence colored at the seductive thread in his voice, but James was already asking something about the gold, and the awkward moment passed. Then, as if suddenly struck by a thought, Phoebe turned toward her sister, a curious look on her face.

“What on earth were you doing down there in your nightclothes, anyway?”

Alone in the darkened library, Prudence nibbled the end of her pen and listened to the crash of the thunder outside the abbey. Although it was well past midnight, she was unable to sleep. Normally, she was far too engrossed in her work to engage in such a frivolous waste of time and energy as worrying, but her troubled mind had driven away her muse, leaving her to stare uselessly down at her half-finished page.

Her eyes were caught by the bloodred ruby that Sebastian had given her as a wedding ring, and she watched it flash in the candlelight. It was uniquely beautiful, of course, a reminder of the bond they shared, and yet…They had been married only days, and already, Prudence was wondering how their happiness could last.

It was not her new title that concerned her; Prudence did not care a whit about being a countess. No, it was something more sinister, more insidious. She had heard it too many times now to ignore it, and even Mrs. Bates had mentioned it at the small celebration after the ceremony.

“Whatever will you do, buried away here along the coast, my lord, when you are so accustomed to…the amusements of London?” she had asked Sebastian, while slanting a sly glance at Prudence. Obviously, the Devil Earl’s reputation had preceded him, and now everyone was wondering how a simple creature like Prudence was going to keep him contented. Even Hugh had hinted at such in his tersely worded refusal to attend the wedding.