Thomas raised his brows. “What,” he said, “do you have no homilies for me about how I shall be leading Robert astray by putting money into his pocket for him to spend on feckless enterprises?”

I shook my head. “Robert will go his own way,” I said. “He told me so.” I met Thomas’s dark eyes. It was hard to admit the truth to him and to myself, but I felt I had to be honest, here amongst the ruins of our hopes and dreams. “I am sorry,” I said. “It was always guilt that prompted me to speak as I did. I could not forgive myself for betraying William with you. I sought to drive it from my mind by trying to keep Robert away from you and I hated you both, I think, for the resemblances I perceived between you because it meant that I could never forget what had happened.”

I could feel the warmth of Thomas’s hand on mine through my glove and it comforted me. After a moment he said: “You are cold. Let me take you back to the house.”

“In a moment,” I said. “Pray satisfy my curiosity on one thing before we return.”

Thomas waited. The pale sun, pushing out from behind the clouds at last, shone on the silver threads in his dark hair and reflected in his eyes.

“What happened to the Knights’ treasure?” I said.

Thomas smiled. There was an edge of sadness to it. “Oh Anne,” he said, “there is none. King Henry took the old treasure, all but for a few relics left at Clerkenwell that had no monetary value for him. There was no time in the brief period that my grandfather was prior to rebuild the Knights’ fortunes. All that is left is a holy name and a legend.”

Seventeen

Lucy

“You look terrible,” Lucy said to Finn. She hadn’t intended to be quite so blunt, but seeing him looking so tired and unkempt, the words had just come out. “Bad night?”

“You might say so.” Finn’s intense hazel gaze fixed on her for a moment before he opened the door of Gunpowder Cottage a little wider. “Would you both like to come in? Johnny’s making bacon sandwiches.”

He’d texted her the previous evening to ask how her day had been and to remind her that the invitation to breakfast that Johnny had issued the day before still stood. Lucy had replied that Cleo was staying with her and Finn had replied promptly to invite her too. So here they were. It was particularly convenient since there was quite a list of stuff Lucy wanted to talk to him about.

“A hangover, is it?” Cleo chirped. She was looking very fresh and bright-eyed despite the disturbances of the previous night. Cleo, Lucy had often thought, could emerge from a hurricane without a hair out of place.

“No.” Finn glanced over his shoulder as they followed him down the corridor to the kitchen. “Nothing so exciting. One of the farmers texted me at about two in the morning to say that someone had wrecked the excavation work down at the summerhouse. They only spotted it because whoever it was left the field gate open and some of their cows wandered out onto the road. Fortunately they were seen and rounded up before anyone was hurt and that was when Bill saw the damage to the dig and texted me. I went down there first thing to see what had happened. It’s completely trashed—trench edges caved in and holes dug in the bottom of the excavation.”