Free More Than You Know by Jo Goodman Page B

understand the connection he makes to the gems. Do you?"
    "No, but then we only heard a portion of the riddle. It may be there is a clue elsewhere in the text."
    Claire noticed that the duke was not questioning the riddle's origin. He didn't appear to believe Rand Hamilton had created the message for his own ends. “His story about the treasure nearly matches your own theory."
    "I didn't think you would fail to notice that. Captain Hamilton has either thoroughly researched the legend and history or he has some intimate knowledge to guide him. It may be all of that. I don't believe he used his time at Oxford only to study the natural sciences. The library there is the same place I found some intriguing similarities between the legend and the capture of the Spanish galleon Frontera."
    Claire smiled. “It's unraveling the mystery that's exciting to you, isn't it? Finding the treasure is so much gilt on the lily."
    Strickland's brows rose a notch. “I would not go so far as to say that, m'dear. I won't mind at all adding these stones to my collection."
    "A quarter of them,” Claire corrected. “That's the bargain you struck."
    "Yes,” he said after a moment. “Just a quarter. Go on, you should take yourself off to bed. There's a lot to be done in these next weeks. You will need the voyage to rest from the frenzy of the preparations for it."
    Claire laughed and held out her mug. “G'night, Stickle. Pleasant dreams.” She squeezed his hand as he took the mug.
    "Do you require assistance?"
    "Ten paces to the door and another fourteen after the third room on the right. I can manage, thank you."
    He watched her progress across the room just to satisfy himself of her safety. When she was gone, his eyes dropped to the blank piece of paper in his hand. He had had no need to make a record of the captain's poem. The lines were unimportant. The fact that they numbered seven was enough to convince him that Rand Hamilton was on the right course, closer perhaps than he had been.
    Seven lines. Seven curses. One curse for each sister. The captain might well know what he was looking for after all.
    Evan Markham, eighth Duke of Strickland, crumpled the paper in his fist and tossed it into the fireplace. He opened the desk and took out the correspondence he had begun. At this juncture there was no sense leaving anything to chance.
    * * * *
    The next twelve days were every bit the frenzy for Claire that her godfather had predicted.
    At the duke's insistence, there were fittings for a new wardrobe. Claire was left with no choice but compliance and almost no choice in the fabrics or fashion. Strickland was pleased to discover that Mrs. Webster had a rather keen eye for what suited his goddaughter. After the first day of witnessing her veto the fussy ruffles and ruching that served no purpose but to draw attention to the dressmaker's skill, the duke was happy to place Claire in her teacher's hands. His visit to the drawing room on the occasion of the initial fitting was enough to assure him that all would be completed by the time Cerberus left London.
    Claire was also the recipient of more lessons with her cane. She despised the thing as a crutch that only called attention to her. It did no good that the duke tried to ease her discomfort by having it made of ebony and calling it a fashionable affectation. She was the one affected by it. Mrs. Webster had been unsuccessful in making Claire see the use of it until now. Claire, she pointed out, would be subjected to more hazards on board Cerberus than she had encountered on HMS Mansfield . On her voyage back to London, she had been largely confined to quarters by illness or choice. She had learned enough skills since that time to be made a bit overconfident. It was the surest way, Mrs. Webster warned, for her to be lost overboard.
    Claire accepted the truth of this and practiced daily, first in the familiar surroundings of the townhouse and later, as a test of her skill, in the less inviting