Page 9 of Love, the Duke
“Churches have been known to claim to have something that was saved from the Crusades or Cromwell’s wretched raids.” Hurst shook his head. She seemed sincere, but did she truly not know that there were claims notjust in England but all over the world that small pieces of wood, tiny swatches of cloth, and even toe bones were said to be relics from biblical and other historical times? Not every claim could be legitimate.
“It’s probably not true,” he suggested. “There weren’t many items saved.”
“You are wrong, sir,” she said indignantly. “Chatham’s chalice has been well documented through the years by bishops, kings, and probably dukes as well.”
Resisting the urge to stay quiet, he answered, “I would venture to say that most owners of religious artifacts say that.”
“A sacred church relic isn’t something a clergyman would have lied about then or now.”
Hurst started to say more but decided there was no use arguing that point further. Her mind was set on the history of the chalice. Exasperation had him gritting his teeth as he asked, “Whatever the case may be, do you think me a seer who can find lost things?”
“Of course not,” she huffed unevenly. “But you are the only titled man I know.”
“You don’t know me.”
Her expression softened and for a moment Hurst felt he might have wounded her in some way.
“I feel as though I do,” she answered, taking a step back from him. “Winston always talked about you as if you were his best friend or brother he never had. He told me of the many days he spent roaming the woods and riding horses throughout the hillsides with you before your aunt took you away. He talked of them so often they must have been the happiest of his life. I know he loved you.”
Once again Hurst felt the piercing burden of guilt. “That was a long time ago, Miss Stowe.”
“But Winston never had any close friends. Perhaps that’s why he always talked about you.”
He and Winston had enjoyed a good friendship, but they grew up and went their separate ways. Hurst’s life moved on when he went away to school and made different friends. Their lives took different directions.
“According to what the maid said,” Miss Stowe continued, seeming satisfied he wasn’t going further into the past, “there is a titled man in London who has a shelf in his book room where he keeps artifacts. I am hoping you will agree to search the book rooms of peers for me and—”
“Wait. Wait just a—blasted minute,” he grumbled, unable to restrain his grievance about her suggestion. She was unbelievable. “What nonsense are you spouting? You want me to go searching for this revered chalice in the homes of peers? I’ve never heard such an ill-conceived contemplation.”
“Perhaps it is outrageous,” she maintained earnestly.
“It is beyond outrageous,” he answered sternly. “It’s wrong.”
She seemed to reconsider before replying, “I’m not seeing it that way.”
“There is no other way to see it,” he insisted. “Besides, you don’t know how to go about looking for a thief. Neither do I, and I don’t believe you realize the number of clandestine maneuvers it would take to accomplish what you want to do.”
“Excuse me, sir.” Her eyes flashed with sparkles of conflict even though she seemed to be in complete control. “My brother saw to it I was well-read and studied in all subjects of learning just as he had been.”
She hesitated, then gave him the most impish smile hehad ever seen. His stomach did a slow roll that tightened his lower body.
“I have read a book on how to catch a thief,” she announced proudly.
Hurst didn’t think he could be more surprised had the young lady who was dressed as a man pulled a pipe from her pocket, put it to her enticing lips, and started puffing. But he was. Surely, he hadn’t heard her correctly.
“A book?” He could only stare at her for a moment. “You’ve read a book?”
“Man’s Practical Guide to Apprehending a Thief.”
A chuckle whispered from his throat. “Right. It says ‘man’ and you are a lady. And you think that will help you find a thief? Throw that thing away before you get yourself in trouble.”
“I will not. I paid good money for it and it’s been useful.”
“How?”
“Well,” she hedged. “I’m not quite sure yet because I haven’t started trying to catch the thief.”
“You don’t have a chance in Hades, Miss Stowe.”
