One of the horses tossed its head, breaking the odd intensity of the moment, and Carys flushed and looked away.
“You know, the collective noun for a group of ravens is an unkindness of ravens, but I think we should change it to a rescue of ravens. Huginn and Muninn saved the day.”
“They did indeed.”
They rode on for another half mile, then Tristan slowed the horses to a walk. “I want to see whatever’s in that cage.”
Carys pointed to a pair of stone markers ahead. “That’s Davies land. That track leads back to the stables. You can turn in there.”
Tristan did so, and after a short distance Trellech’s crenellated towers appeared on the horizon. Carys felt a warm tingle of relief. Home. Lights from the party still shone brightly at most of the windows.
Tristan steered the cart beneath an enormous oak tree and leapt down, and she wrinkled her nose at the familiar smell of bear droppings and hay as he pulled back the metal latch and swung open the cage door. He climbed up, heedless of the dirt, and she followed.
The trapdoor opened with a squeal to reveal a large black metal box within.
“You can do the honors,” Tristan offered.
Carys reached down and flipped open the lid. The trunk was neatly divided into sections, each one filled with small white cotton drawstring bags. One had come open—probably the one Howe had inspected—and she sucked in a breath at the glitter of golden coins that spilled from the neck. She tipped the contents out into her palm.
“My God! I’ve never seen so much money in one place! It’s like a pirate’s treasure!”
Tristan inspected the contents of another bag. “This isn’t just English gold. Look, that’s a French louis d’or, and this is a twenty-franc piece. This one’s from Austria.”
“How much do you think is here?”
He lifted the top shelf to reveal further divided shelves beneath. “Hard to say, but if that’s all gold too—then at least ten thousand pounds. Bloody hell!”
He stood, almost hitting his head on the wooden roof of the cage. Seeing him in there, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the bars, Carys felt another rush of pity for the vicious bear. Such a huge animal would be utterly miserable in there with so little space to move.
She dropped the coins she held back into the box and shut the lid. “Say what you like about magic, Tristan Montgomery, but this is the work of the pookas. That fairy fire led us to both danger and riches tonight.”
He sent her a look that could have rivaled the Sahara for dryness. “Yes. Magic. That’s what it was. Of course.”
A piercing shriek and a burst of light interrupted Carys’s defense, and she clapped her hand to her heart in fright. “Oh!” she breathed, as another explosion lit up the sky above the house. “They’ve started the fireworks.”
She jumped from the cart to watch the display. “It must be midnight. We have to get back to the house.”
Tristan climbed down and refastened the cage door. “How are we going to explain this to your brothers?”
The elation that had warmed her disappeared, replaced by a wave of anxiety. “Oh, God, I hadn’t thought of that.”
So much had happened in such a short space of time she could scarcely believe it herself. Even with the gold as proof, the night’s adventures had raised more questions than answers.
“We need to unload this at the house, then send people to get the bear back into his cage,” she said. “And we’ll need to tell the authorities what we’ve found.”
Tristan nodded. “Do you think there’s even the smallest hope of us getting into the house unseen?”
“The stables are full of extra carriages.” She glanced down at their muddy, disheveled clothing. “With a bit of luck we’ll be mistaken for groomsmen.”
“Another dream come true.” Tristan let out a hollow laugh. “I knew attending a Davies party would end in disaster. It gives me no pleasure to be proved right.”
Carys rolled her eyes. “Oh, rubbish. It gives you immense pleasure to be proved right.”
Tristan’s hand streaked out. He caught her wrist and spun her into his chest, and her heart swooped in sudden excitement at the gleam in his eye.
“I’ll tell you what would give me immense pleasure,” he growled.
“What?” She held her breath, hoping for a kiss.
“Spanking your pert behind.” He matched actions to words, swatting playfully at the seat of her breeches, and she whirled away with a crow of outrage.
“Now get up on that cart,” he ordered with a chuckle. “We’ve got some explaining to do.”
Feeling rather deflated, Carys resumed her seat and they set off toward the house, illuminated at irregular intervals by Gryff and Maddie’s impressive fireworks.
“I want to make sure Buttercup really is in his cage, and that Howe wasn’t lying,” she said. “Oh, goodness. I’d forgotten about Howe! We left him in the road. Should we send someone back to get him?”
“He’s probably come round by now. And if he hasn’t, his two circus friends will find him.”
“If they do, they’ll know they’ve been tricked.”
“True. In which case, I expect all three of them will leave the area very swiftly. I can’t imagine they’ll want to explain to Lord Holland how they lost his money.” He paused, thinking. “I suppose if they don’t find Howe, then the circus folk will be out all night searching for the bear. They’ll go to the village in the morning, expecting to find this wagon. They’ll only realize they’ve been duped when it’s not there.”
“Either way,” Carys said, “Howe knows we’re on to him. He might go to the circus to warn them.”
Tristan snorted. “Unlikely. There’s no honor among thieves. He won’t care about anyone’s skin but his own. I bet he’s already halfway to London.”
“Let’s hope so. But I do feel sorry for Victoria. What’s she going to do if he disappears?”
“Crack open a bottle of champagne, probably,” Tristan said drily.
They avoided the crowded stable block, and drove the cart around the back of Buttercup’s enclosure. After a brief search, and much to her relief, Carys found the bear fast asleep beneath a tent of branches, with an empty stoneware cider flagon on the ground next to him. Even the flashes and bangs of the fireworks failed to rouse him.
At her insistence, Tristan unloaded the heavy box of bullion and hid it just inside the entrance to the cage, covering it with a mound of fresh hay.
“There, Buttercup will make the perfect guardian until we decide what to do with it.” Carys dusted off her hands in satisfaction. “Now we just need to get back into the house without being seen. I doubt any guests will be in the library at this hour. We can climb in through one of the windows along the west side.”
“Just like a bloody Shakespeare farce,” Tristan grumbled.
As they started back through the gardens Carys marveled at everything that had happened since they’d been interrupted by Howe. It had only been a few hours ago, but everything had changed. And not necessarily for the better.
Her heart began to pound as she remembered the tryst in the mud.
Oh, God, would Tristan feel that he’d been put in an impossible position by their recklessness?
Montgomery he might be, but he was an inherently decent man. Even if her brothers accepted the explanation of the bear chase and the smuggling as the reason for their absence, if anyone else at the party had noticed their disappearance there could still be trouble.
They couldn’t make the truth public. Neither Howe nor Lord Holland deserved their discretion, but Carys would never salvage her own reputation if it meant ruining Victoria’s standing in society in exchange.
She bit her lip as she and Tristan slipped around the darkened side of the house toward the library. Even if nobody suspected anything between herself and Tristan, she had a sinking feeling that Tristan himself might prove the problem.
Would he insist on offering for her, even at the expense of his own future plans, if she discovered she was pregnant?
She didn’t dare glance over at him as he stalked beside her, but her heart squeezed in her chest as she forced herself to face the truth. She would like nothing better than to be married to him—but only if he wanted her with the same ardor she felt for him.
She could never accept him if he’d only proposed out of guilt. Their physical passion was undeniable, but it would fade to bitterness and resentment without a deeper attachment. Without love. Tristan deserved to be happy with the woman he chose, not one who’d been foisted on him because of some foolish indiscretion.
A solitary lamp had been left burning in the library, and Carys breathed a sigh of relief that they might yet be able to slip back to their rooms undetected. She tried the third window from the left; the catch had been broken ever since she could remember and she’d often used it to sneak back inside after some scrape or other.
The window slid upward with a satisfying swish.
As soon as this evening’s debacle was over, she would tell Tristan their agreement was at an end. There would be no more trysts. If her monthly courses arrived as usual, then they had nothing to worry about. If they didn’t arrive … well, she would cross that bridge when she came to it. Maybe she’d consider Ellington’s offer yet again.
The lamp in the corner suddenly turned up, and she froze with one leg half in and half out of the window. Gryff’s elegant frame was folded in one of the wing chairs that flanked the fireplace.
Oh, hell and damnation.
“Oh, do come in,” Gryff drawled, and Carys cringed inwardly at the combination of fury and cynicism lacing his tone.
Since there was nothing for it, she scrambled in completely through the window, then stepped aside as Tristan did the same.
Gryff’s mouth flattened into a tight line. “Bloody hell, Carys. We’ve been looking for you everywhere.” His piercing gaze flicked to Tristan. “Montgomery. You’d better have a bloody good explanation for why you’ve been absent for two whole hours with my sister.”
His gaze roved over the disheveled state of their clothing and Carys tried not to squirm in mortification. Dear God, Gryff hadn’t looked at her with such scathing disapproval since she’d tied Morgan’s feet together and pushed him into the moat almost a decade ago.
“Now Gryff,” she said placatingly. “It’s not how it looks.”
Gryff’s brows rose toward his hairline. “I sincerely hope not. Because it looks as though you and Montgomery have been rolling around in the mud. Together. Alone.”