Millicent batted her eyes at him. “Also known as the Prince of Wales, Donald darling. And dear George did owe us a bit of a favor.”
Beth leaned close, her fingers digging into his arm. “Your sisters know Prince George?”
He grinned. “Of course they do. They know everyone.”
Scofield was reading the telegram, his face getting redder by the second. “This is ridiculous. We already secured the permission from—”
“And the prince just countermanded it. But don’t worry, dear.” Millicent patted Vandermeer’s arm. “We’re not taking all of Gugh away from you. Only this portion here where my brother is digging. You all still have every right to excavate where Mr. Scofield began working.”
“Which was really quite generous of George, considering that Nigel began his work without any permission whatsoever,” Abbie put in.
“Whereas we had things in motion with the prince well before Theo’s spade ever touched Gugh’s soil.” Millicent winked at him.
And Telford had questioned his instincts in bringing them here. Sheridan grinned back.
Nigel was sputtering. “Oh, so you leave us the worthless—”
“Worthless?” Sheridan didn’t mean to interrupt, really. He just couldn’t help it. He waved a hand at the site up the hill. “You found an undiscovered Druid cairn! Frankly, I’m quite put out that it’s been left to you. You have no appreciation for it at all. My only comfort is that with the board of trustees involved, it will be treated with the respect it deserves.”
“Druids.” Vandermeer muttered the word as if it were the most boring two syllables in the world.
Nigel was snarling again, but his father restrained him. And crumpled the telegram in a fist. “I intend to appeal this. This is history you’re treating so cavalierly, and no doubt you intend to make off with it all and put it in your private collection. Don’t forget, my lord, that I’m the one you offered to pay for anything I found. I don’t recall you mentioning Prince George and his salvage rights then, and you can be sure—”
“Listen to you, my lord.” Abbie laughed, though there was nothing amused about it. “Acting as if the prince hasn’t been fully aware of our brother’s hunt all this time and doesn’t trust him fully. Of course the majority of our discoveries will be turned over to the Crown, and no doubt much of it will eventually make it into the hallowed halls of the British Museum. It is because of the history of this site—”
“And Theo’s proven respect for it.” Millicent wrapped her arm around Vandermeer’s, which made the American clench his jaw. No doubt as he bit back some rude retort.
“Just so.” Abbie nodded. “He’s contributed so much to the study of the Druids, you know, which has earned the prince’s highest esteem. He agreed from the outset that Theo could keep a small token or two from whatever he discovered here.”
“A mere finder’s fee.”
He had, had he? Sheridan reached for the hand Beth let slide down his arm. He could only imagine the thoughts that would be rampaging through her head—all the time, all the effort she’d put into this. All stripped away because of a bunch of technicalities and legalities and connections she couldn’t have aspired to. “Beth?” he breathed, a bare whisper. He wove their fingers together. Would it look, to her, like his sisters were stealing her prize?
Beth shook her head, her words a whisper back. “They knew all along. Obviously. They were just using me. Probably meant to then swoop in with the permissions and take it all. Perhaps even threaten me with legal action.” She sighed, her fingers tight around his. “How stupid I was to overlook this.”
“An oversight.” One he was just as guilty of.
Beth’s lips turned up, though. She nodded to his sisters. “But they just beat them at their own game.”
That was indeed what his sisters had done. What they could always be counted on for doing. He gave Beth’s fingers a squeeze.
And besides, if it was the adventure she’d wanted from all this, they’d had it, and would continue having it. And if it was the promise of funds that would allow a Season or two in London—well, he’d give her all the Seasons she pleased. In London or Paris or New York or wherever else she fancied.
Young Scofield pulled free of his father. “This isn’t over, Sheridan.”
Millicent stepped away from Vandermeer, her chin coming up. “We did fear you’d take that stance, sir. Hence why a security team is on its way even now to safeguard our finds. And, in the meantime, our lovely band of local friends will help us transport what our brother has already found to somewhere safe.”
At the wave of her hand, Mr. Pepper and a few other local chaps hurried forward from where they’d been clustered at the line where grass met sand, obviously happy to stay out of the cross fire until they were called upon. He pivoted to watch them join Telford and the others haul the now-wrapped chest away from the site.
He couldn’t help but grin anew. Probably felt like a kick in the nose to the Scofields.
And it served them right. Turnabout, and all that.
In all the times Senara had come to St. Nicholas’s and sat in the pew her family had occupied for generations, she’d never had cause to poke about in this part of the church. And it only took a few seconds for her sense of discomfort to outweigh her curiosity. This was the vicar’s domain back here in this room, not a mere parishioner’s. Even if said parishioner was with said vicar’s grandmother. “Mrs. Tremayne, are you quite certain—”
“No need to fret, Senara dear.” Mrs. Tremayne chuckled and padded over to an enormous cupboard. It had scrollwork on its heavy wooden doors and a Latin inscription that she had no desire to try to translate just now. A cupboard so ornate and fine must hold something truly holy. The sacraments or vestments or illuminated manuscripts from the twelfth century or . . .
Nothing. The shelves within, she saw when her aged companion pulled open the doors, were completely bare. Senara frowned. “What goes in there?”
“It’s where the parish records have always been kept. But I think it will do quite nicely for our new purpose. Quite nicely indeed. Have you the measuring tape, dearover?”
Senara reached into her pocket for the soft tape she’d pulled from her mending basket. She still wasn’t certain what their “new purpose” was, but when Mrs. Tremayne took your hand from the porridge pot and asked you to come with her, you went. Even when she led you out into the morning street, up the road into the village, and through the back door of the island’s single church.
She handed the tape to her companion, who immediately unrolled it and began measuring the interior dimensions of the cupboard. Her mutters of “Ah, good, good” did nothing to elucidate the situation.
“Mrs. Tremayne, what exactly are we doing?”
The lady turned to face her with an impish smile on her face but that troubling, clouded look to her eyes. “They’ll need a place to stow it where no one will think to look for it. And I couldn’t come up with a less likely place for pirate treasure than this. Can you?”
Pirate treasure? Senara sighed and tried to muster a small, placating smile. “But, madame, we don’t even know that they’ll find anything.”