Sarah was sitting in the back of Calum’s Bentley when her phone buzzed with a text from her boss.
We need to talk about your employment situation. Call me ASAP.
It was the second text he’d sent her within the hour, and she didn’t have the emotional energy to deal with him now. She turned over her cell and stared out the window as Calum’s butler Ivers drove them to the Mansion on Forysth Park Hotel.
With Nate and his men, they’d discussed what was going to happen at the auction. Then she’d gone to her house, where she’d packed clothes, hiking boots, her dad’s weapon, and her research materials. She’d also added more tea and salve. After their escape, they were heading out to the Isle of Grace to hide in one of Pops’s hunting cabins.
Garza had intel on the hotel’s security setup. Zack had staked out the escape route. They had Juliet’s Lily’s truck for their getaway. Calum had ensured an invitation for Nate would be waiting at the door. Nate had shopped for food and ammo.
They’d worked through countless details she’d never considered. She’d honestly thought she’d walk in, take the diary, jump out the window, and worry about the rest later. Apparently, Green Berets didn’t work that way. Zack had kind of come around. She got why he didn’t trust her, but she didn’t understand why he didn’t trust Nate. This was as much Nate’s plan as hers.
“You look beautiful.” Calum sat next to her while he texted someone about something. “Dior suits you.”
She smoothed the skirt of the white dress Samantha had helped her choose at Dessie’s shop. It had a tight waist, full skirt ending at the knee, and fitted bodice with cap sleeves. The skirt was made with layers of extremely sheer white silk organza. A taffeta-and-tulle petticoat gave the skirt a fullness that belied its whisper-weight fabric.
White silk lined the bodice, but the sleeves remained sheer. The neckline was edged with silk-embroidered strawberries, and small Swarovski crystals graced the center of each one. It was the most feminine dress Sarah had ever seen, and she’d fallen in love with it instantly. It wasn’t until she’d been outfitted with a new strapless bra, leather ballet flats, and lace panties that she even dared to look at the price.
“Calum? Please don’t faint when you see the bill.” Seriously, her purchases had cost more than most wedding gowns.
“I promise I won’t faint.” He grinned while he typed. “Whatever the cost, it’s worth it. You look stunning. I love the Swarovski crystals.”
She laughed and touched her hair, which Samantha had twisted into a complicated knot and decorated with gardenia blossoms. “Remember that when you’re considering never speaking to me again.”
He slipped his phone in his jacket pocket. For the auction, he’d changed into linen pants, a pale-blue dress shirt that matched his eyes, and a blue silk tie decorated with purple and green turtles. “It can’t be close to what Carina spends.”
“Are you sure?”
He placed his hand over hers, smiled, and squeezed. “Everything will work out. I promise. You have to stop fretting.”
“No fretting.” She gave him a half smile. “I promise.”
“Good.” He took something out of his leather briefcase on the floor. “I wanted to give you these before the fun starts.” He handed her a paperback copy of Shakespeare’s Othello. “This belonged to your mother. Remember when I told you that your mother and mine had been friends?”
“Yes.” She opened the book to find a stack of old photographs. They were all of a group of three girls, each around fifteen or sixteen. “What are these?”
Calum pointed to the name scrawled inside the cover. Meg Theroux. “My momma, who’s in Paris, told me about the book and photos. She’d stored them in our cottage on the Isle of Hope for safekeeping.”
He held up a photo of three girls at the beach. They stood by the ocean, their arms linked, smiles wide. “The blond that looks like Carina is my momma. The black-haired girl is Isabel Rutledge.”
“Is Isabel related to the Rutledge family who stole your diary and gave it to the Savannah Preservation Office?”
“Yes. There are members of the Rutledge family in Charleston, Savannah, and New Orleans.” Calum ran his thumb over the third person in the photo. “This girl with long brown hair is—”
“My mother.” Sarah covered her mouth with her hand.
“Your momma was from one of oldest families in Savannah.”
“Is that why the Habersham sisters chose me to work on the Prioleau/Habersham collection despite my issues at the Smithsonian?”
“Along with your impressive résumé.” Calum lifted one of the photos up to the light. “I also support rebels. After reading your article in The British Journal, I knew you were my girl. I loved the fact that you hypothesized that not only were the Prideaux hide sites real, but Thomas didn’t betray Rebecca in spite of the historical records saying otherwise.”
She dropped the book and photos onto her lap. A few fell on the floor. “You chose me to manage the collection?”
Calum picked them up. “And to keep the Habersham sisters in line.”
Not sure what to say, she went back to the photo of three girls sitting in the reading room at the SPO. “Do you know anything about my mother?”
“She was a smart girl with lots of friends.” He sifted through the photos he’d picked up. “According to my momma, they were all obsessed with Anne Capel’s recipes and Rebecca Prideaux’s love life.”
“I know my mother never let the story of Rebecca and Thomas go.”
Calum handed her another photo of two girls in sundresses drinking iced tea in a courtyard filled with flowers. They wore sunglasses and bright smiles. “This is your momma and Isabel Rutledge. While all three girls were close, your momma and Isabel were like sisters. They were desperate to prove that Thomas didn’t betray Rebecca. Although they never succeeded.”
“The girls wanted to redeem the love story, but they grew up before making their great discovery.” Grew up and got pregnant, to be precise.
“Sarah? Do you want to redeem Thomas and Rebecca’s love story for their sake? Or your momma’s?”
“Both, I guess.” She ran her thumb over her mother’s image on the photo. “My mother was betrayed by my biological father, I was betrayed by my fiancé, and my father was betrayed by his station when they refused to believe in his innocence. I think, all along, I needed to prove to myself that loyalty—and true love—is real.”
“A noble purpose.” Calum showed her a photo of the girls wearing aprons in a kitchen surrounded by mortars and pestles and stacks of dry herbs. “Besides love stories, the girls were committed to finding all of Anne Capel’s herbal recipes.”
Sarah smiled at the girls with wide grins holding spoons and whisks. “I have a box of Anne’s recipes my mother and grandmother left me. Some work quite well.”
Calum handed her another photo of the three girls in black T-shirts with Latin phrases printed in white. She covered her mouth with one hand so she wouldn’t laugh. Because if she laughed, she’d cry. “Do you know what these T-shirts say?”
He pointed to Isabel Rutledge. “Luke sum ipse patrem te. Luke, I am your father.”
Sarah pointed to Calum’s mother. “Sona si Latine loqueris. Honk if you speak Latin.” But she paused when she got to her mother’s. “Hic est finis iter est scriptor. Here is my journey’s end.” The same phrase written on the envelope the hooded man had delivered.
Calum took the photo and turned it over. “Isn’t that the quote from the tomb where the body was found yesterday?”
“Yes. It’s Shakespeare.” She read the back. “Look at the date. This was taken a few months before—”
“Your mother became pregnant.” Calum cleared his throat. “My momma mentioned that your mother confided in Isabel. If you want information about your father, you could ask her. I believe she lives in New Orleans.”
“Thanks.” Not wanting to think about that now, she sorted through the other photos. One was taken in the Cemetery of Lost Children in front of Anne Capel’s crypt. It was barely daylight, and they were holding beer cans, which meant they’d been playing “Dare the Witch,” a game in which teenagers slept in front of Anne’s crypt all night and drank a beer in the morning.
Sarah’s mother had been full of life, so not-caring-about-the-rules, while Sarah had always been…focused and disciplined.
“Sarah”—Calum flipped through her mother’s copy of Othello—“do you know anything about your birth father?”
“Not much.” She stacked the photos and placed them into the white beaded handbag that Calum had bought her as well. “My birth father was eighteen with brown eyes. He worked as a lifeguard that summer on Tybee Island and used to call my mother his fair warrior.”
“From Othello.” Calum took out a photo from the book. “I’ve not seen this one before.”
Sarah took it and squinted. Her mother, who was obviously pregnant, stood with her hand on a tomb covered with white-spotted lichen. Perched on top, a weeping angel clutched a young girl in its wings. The angel’s moss-cloaked face gazed up at Heaven with eyes so round and sorrowful, Sarah’s heart swelled. That’s when she realized her mother’s face was tear-streaked. She’d been crying.
Sarah wiped her face with her fingers until Calum handed her a handkerchief. She smiled. Nate and Calum had to be the only two men left in the world who carried handkerchiefs.
“Look at those dates carved into the headstone,” Calum said. “1683 to 1699.”
She inhaled sharply. “Those are the supposed life and death dates of Rebecca Prideaux.” She glanced at Calum, who now wore reading glasses and was studying the photo. “Do you think this is Rebecca’s tomb?”
“It’s possible. That monument is in the Cemetery of Lost Children, but it’s tucked away on the outer edge.”
“Why?”
Calum removed his glasses and raised an eyebrow. “Rebecca may have been innocent, but she was still burned as a witch.”
Of course. “Rebecca is buried in unconsecrated land.” She touched the angel’s face. “Look at those words beneath the dates. My Soul’s Joy, My Fair Warrior.”
Calum took the photo and returned it to the book between the same pages from where he’d removed it. “Looks like Thomas, as well as your biological father, were also Othello fans.”
She couldn’t guess anything about her birth father but had an idea about Thomas. “Thomas probably knew that history would cast him as the treacherous lover who’d betrayed Rebecca.”
“That’s depressing.” Calum found a pen and, on the inside cover of the book, drew a crude map. “This is the location of Rebecca’s tomb.” Then he put the book into her beaded purse and said, “Time to focus on our mission. Steal the diary, get away, solve the cipher.”
She straightened her shoulders. “And save Nate and my father.” Because saving the men she loved was the most important mission of all. Her phone buzzed again with a text from Cassio. She showed it to Calum.
Beware, Lady Sarah. I have told your father to be not blind, from hence this time, trust not your daughter’s mind.
Calum squeezed her hand as another text came through. This one was from her boss. You’re fired.