Sighing, she stood to retrieve dress and pinafore. “We’re wasting time. We should check the altar stone.”
His smile sent her heart on another of those disconcerting swoops. “I don’t regret a moment. I can’t get enough of you.”
She blushed. Although what right a girl had to blush given what she’d just done, Genevieve couldn’t think. “We might find the abbey treasury. It’s rumored that the last abbot hid it from Henry VIII’s men.”
Richard rose, wincing when he bumped his arm against the tomb. “I’ve had my fill of ancient mysteries.”
She watched him fasten his breeches. Observing the intimate action thrilled her, besotted creature she was. “This treasure would be genuine.”
“Are you sure the jewel’s a copy?”
“I’m surprised nobody else noticed. I suspect it was made last century. The filigree gives it away completely.”
“So there never was a Harmsworth Jewel?”
“Perhaps once.” She searched his face. This had to be a blow, no matter how well he appeared to take the news. “I’m sorry, Richard.”
He shrugged and his smile held no shadow. “I sought a jewel in Little Derrick. I found one. I’ve been amply rewarded.”
After an hour, their candle burned low and they were no closer to escape.
Breathless, Richard gave up shoving at the altar and stepped back, wiping his hand over his sweaty face. Discouragement weighted his sigh. Before sealing them in, Fairbrother had destroyed the mechanism for moving the stone. The broken stonework was new.
“Richard, you won’t shift it,” Genevieve said from the step below. With her knife, she’d been checking for chinks in the walls. But down here, safe from weathering, the masonry aligned as perfectly as it had five hundred years ago. “That altar must weigh tons. I doubt a team of oxen could budge it. If you’re not careful, you’ll reopen your wound.”
Leaning against the wall, she brushed back the hair that escaped its string tie. Another item from her seemingly bottomless pockets.
“I don’t suppose you packed lunch in your pinafore?” he asked hopefully, trying to lift the despondent atmosphere.
She laughed wryly. She must be as aware as he that every second, their situation worsened. “I didn’t prepare for incarceration today. Silly me.”
“I’d love to revisit our Oxford picnic.”
“Don’t torture me.” Her smile was reminiscent.
An hour ago, when he’d held her, gasping her release, he’d believed that he couldn’t love her more. Now her stalwart spirit made him light-headed with adoration. “That roast chicken was delicious.”
“Not to mention the champagne.”
“Looking at you makes me feel like I’m drinking champagne.”
Her cheeks flushed with the shyness that always clutched at his heart. “I’d swap a dozen bottles of champagne for a tumbler of cold water.”
She was right. The greatest danger was thirst. Foreboding oozed through his veins like glacial ice. He wouldn’t let Genevieve die. He couldn’t bear to lose her. Not now he’d found her. Not now she’d told him she loved him. Every time she spoke those simple words, she filled a river in his soul that had been dry since boyhood.
“There may be another way out,” he said without conviction. “Any ideas?”
“I’ve lost confidence in my ideas since Lord Neville discovered this crypt. I should have guessed a building of this era had an underground chamber.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. The Harmsworth Jewel occupied your attention.”
“And the scoundrel who plotted to steal it.” She lifted the candle and descended to sit on a tomb. “At least we know the jewel’s a modern copy.”
“If we don’t get out, nobody else will know.” Richard clenched his fist against the base of the altar, wishing he could punch it out of the way.
“We’ll get out.” Her statement rang with faith in him. By God, he’d make sure he justified her trust. She watched as he prowled down the steps.
“How appropriate that a fraud of a baronet should pursue a fraud of a treasure.” He sat and slung his arm around her shoulders, leaning his chin on her head. She was warm and soft and rested against him as if he provided inviolable sanctuary. Hope surged. He refused to countenance a universe that permitted this brave girl’s destruction.