Valeria looked away quickly, and he guessed she must have been scowling at him. Either that, or the prospect of living the life of a rake no longer appealed the way it once had, and his mind and heart were letting him know with a firm kick.
He looked again at Beatrice with objective eyes, seeing the single, glaring flaw in asking her to be his duchess: She washercousin.
Unsettled by the cold feeling that lingered in his chest and skull, he raised his hand to the footman, who was standing by with a trumpet poised. Eagerly, the man blasted the instrument, the sound echoing across the sun-drenched grounds of Thornhill Grange.
The hunt had begun.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“The apple tree! The next clue is at the apple tree!” Valeria gasped with excitement, tugging on Roger’s sleeve.
He was remarkably slow for someone in the midst of a competition, who had claimed to be competitive. They had discovered four of their eight clues already, yet he continued to drag his feet, as if he was not interested in winning the game at all.
All the while, other guests hared past, yelping and shrieking in the race to find their clues, every shout of “I found one!” tipping fuel onto the blaze of Valeria’s determination to be the victor. Especially as she had just seen Beatrice and Duncan running through the rose garden like hounds were chasing them, with what looked likefiveof the colorful, folded clues in their possession.
“Are you sure?” Roger asked, frowning down at the latest note.
“You would not Adam and Eve-it, but perhaps you will see it. It is the season for cider, where else would we hide her? Find your next clue here.”
Valeria jabbed a finger toward the manor. “Ofcourseit is the apple tree. What else could it be?”
Roger nodded slowly. “I am not denying it isanapple tree, but which one?” He laughed a little. “His Grace hasorchards, Miss Maxwell. It must be something else. A painting of an apple tree, perhaps?”
“I know the one,” she said urgently.
“How can you possibly?”
She faltered, realizing at that very moment how she knew the exact tree. It had not occurred to her that Duncan might have had a hand in writing the clues, assuming it had fallen to a member of the staff, or one of the other guests had volunteered.
Did I get these clues on purpose? Is he… still playing games?
A shaky breath escaped her lips, her thoughts threatening to tangle up again. “I walked past one yesterday. It stood out to me, because there was just one—in the courtyard near the stables. Ithasto be that one, and if it is not, we can reconsider other options.” She paused, putting on a smile. “Trust me, Lord Campbell.”
“Very well,” he replied, his expression softening. “I will, Miss Maxwell, as long as you promise that you will call me ‘Roger.’”
She pulled gently on his sleeve. “Follow me, Roger.”
His face cheered at the sound of his name, but he made no attempt to hasten his pace as they walked together toward the courtyard, close to the servants’ entrance. A place that Valeria knew better than she cared to admit.
“Campbell Hall has extensive grounds,” he said as they made their way across the lawns, leaving the walled gardens where they had found their previous clue. “I wonder if I ought to have a treasure hunt when I host my house party, a few weeks from now. What do you think?”
“I think that is a lovely idea,” Valeria replied, wishing he would hurry up.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Duncan and Beatrice again, sprinting through a set of terrace doors into the manor. They were laughing, both wearing giddy expressions, fully in the spirit of the thrilling hunt… and the jealousy was enough to leave a sour taste in Valeria’s mouth.
“When I have children, I think I would like to arrange treasure hunts for them,” Roger continued with a faraway smile. “Long summer days at the beach, searching for clues, exploring the rockpools, building towers out of sand, savoring a delightful picnic, swimming in the sea. That is a thought that… movesme like no other, for my children to have the childhood that I relished so much.”
Valeria nearly stopped walking, her head twisting away from the manor to stare at Roger. “You are… um… keen to have children?”
“What gentleman is not?” He chuckled as if that were a ludicrous question. “Perhaps, you thought I would not want too many because I have no siblings myself, but that could not be further from the truth. It is the only part of my childhood that I would not want my children to repeat—to be without siblings. If I could have… goodness…tenchildren, I would. Gladly. Though, I would settle for four or five.”
Valeria felt her eyes widening as her throat tightened, realizing that there were a few of the ‘boring’ questions that she had not bothered to ask. She had been too busy following the lessons that Duncan had taught her, forgetting the basic foundation of a suitable courtship: compatibility.
But… I am not certain I even want children.
Roger must have noticed that she had gone silent, or that she looked as if she had just been struck with a bolt of lightning, for he hastened to add, “As many as my wife would like, is what I meant. It would, of course, be at her discretion. But certainly more than one.”
“What a lovely thing indeed, to spend summer days at the beach,” was all she could say in reply, as she heard a cry explode from inside the manor.
