He took the pin and studied it. At first, he could see nothing unusual. The top resembled a bunch of cornflowers, fashioned from paste and glass beads. The blooms varied in size and were arranged in a haphazard fashion. Each glass-beaded flower was mounted on a painted wire stem, which were bound together at the base and attached to the long metal pin.
It was an unattractive piece, being too large and too obviously imitation to be worthy of a second glance but when Theo peered at the largest cornflower, he uttered an awed exclamation. At its centre was a smooth oval stone of brilliant dark blue. As he tilted it from side to side, a six-pointed white star appeared as it caught the light. The star seemed to glide back and forth over the gem’s lustrous surface. Theo had never seen its like before. The sapphire was incredibly beautiful; it was also cleverly hidden in a tawdry-looking piece of paste jewelry.
Theo raised his eyes to Sophie’s. “It’s magnificent,” he murmured. “Your father chose well. No one would suspect that piece of flummery conceals a fabulous jewel.”
Sophie, taking the pin back, felt a thrill of pleasure as their fingers brushed. It was a fleeting moment of sensation, but she blinked at the intensity of it before pushing the pin back into her hair, confessing, “Stupid of me to let slip I had it with me, but I was furious with Aunt Eudora and Perry. They have always coveted it.“
“But they must have spoken to you since your father’s death about the Star’s whereabouts?”
“Oh yes, but they assumed it was with the rest of my mother’s jewelry in a safe box at the London offices of Papa’s lawyer, ready to pass into my keeping on my twenty-first birthday. I did not disabuse them, but I knew my father had placed the real Star at the Bath office of his lawyers, along with a few other trinkets and a small amount of money. He said he had arranged things in this way in case I ever needed it quickly.” She gave a ghost of a smile. “Perhaps he had a premonition of what was to come. This,” she added, pointing to the sapphire, “is the real reason Eudora wants me to marry Peregrine. The marriage would bring them the Devereux Star.”
“It may be ‘a bright particular star’ but ownership of such an object can bring pain as well as pleasure,” observed Olivia.
“Indeed,” said Sophie, bitterly. “Sometimes I wish I had never set eyes on the wretched thing! It’s worth thousands of pounds, and yet, even when my father found himself with his pockets to let, he could not sell it. He said it had been belonged to the Devereuxs for years and he would be dishonoured if it left the family.” Sophie pulled a face. “Utter fustian, of course!”
“You do not hold with your father’s view, then,” asked Theo.
“As much as I admire the Star’s beauty and would prefer to keep it for the sake of my family name, I would sell it if it became necessary. What use is a sapphire when you are starving, or homeless? Any wealth, or promise of wealth, this jewel has brought has been outweighed by the problems it has caused. Previous generations have waged war on each other because of it. Others have schemed to possess it through forced marriages or more nefarious means, despite the legend attached to the stone saying bad luck will follow anyone who is not its rightful owner.
“What do you think will happen now Mama and Perry know you have it?” said Olivia.
Sophie uttered an unhappy little sigh. “Matters will become even more pressing, I suppose. Aunt Eudora is determined I will marry Peregrine, and tomorrow will no doubt bring another push to elicit my agreement. Perry will follow her lead.”
“But with Mr Cavanagh present—”
“That will not stop her. Neither will Mr Grey’s presence.”
Olivia’s thunderstruck gaze flew to Sophie. “Mr Grey is here?”
“He arrived earlier,” replied Sophie. “He followed us through Savernake.”
“Whatever for?”
Sophie explained, adding, “His story does not ring true, Livvy, and Mr Cavanagh agrees.”
Olivia struggled to conceal her amazement. “H-How strange,” she stammered. “He is the last person I expected to see here.”
“Mr Cavanagh thinks he has seen him before.”
“But I cannot for the moment recall where,” said Theo. He glanced at Sophie. “I’ll question Grey further before I go to bed. He might let slip some clues as to the real reason he is here.”
“Once again I am indebted to you,” said Sophie, giving him a grateful smile. “I confess I am a little tired.”
He studied the lush curve of her lips. “You, tired?” he teased. “I am surprised…the day has been uneventful so far.”
She was obliged to laugh at this, and then said to Olivia: “We’ll go up to our rooms after you’ve eaten supper, if you have no objection.”
“None,” said Olivia, removing her gloves. “I am exhausted too.”
“An early night would be advisable; I’ll need all my wits tomorrow to deal with Eudora and Perry,” admitted Sophie.
“I’ll bid you goodnight now then,” said Theo. “I want to check the post horses will be ready after breakfast and, afterward, seek out Mr Grey.”
“What about Peregrine?” inquired Olivia.
“I’ll invite him to join us too,” replied Theo with wolfish grin.
After supper, Sophie and Olivia left the parlour to seek out their beds, neither of them looking forward to the following day with any enthusiasm. They passed through the coffee room, a low-pitched apartment with heavy oak furniture, and into the hallway. There was no sign of Theo, Peregrine or Lucius Grey.
The landlord gave directions to their bedchambers and, flustered by the string of imperious orders he had received earlier, was at pains to assure them everything had been done for Mrs Sloane’s comfort. A hot brick to warm the bed and a bowl of chicken soup had been sent up, and one of the chambermaids was acting as Mrs Sloane’s personal maid. Apologizing if her mother’s demands had been unreasonable, Olivia’s sympathetic manner and accompanying warm smile did much to soothe the innkeeper’s ruffled sensibilities. Refusing his offer to show them the way, they went upstairs.
The summer twilight had faded and a hanging oil lamp lit the staircase. It threw some light along the passageways set at right angles to the top of the stairs, but the other lamps had not yet been lit and beyond the central lamp’s radius, the corridors of the inn loomed ahead, dark and gloomy. Sophie’s room was to the right, so she kissed Olivia on the cheek and said, “Get some sleep and don’t worry about tomorrow.”
“I’ll try. At least with my own room I shall have a respite from Mama. I suppose I had better check on her in case she needs anything.”
Sophie grimaced. “The way she treats you, she doesn’t deserve any attention. It’s a credit to your generous nature that you oblige her at all.”
“She might already be asleep. I think the journey fatigued her more than she would admit,” said Olivia softly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Sophie nodded and walked away to her room.
Turning on her heel, Olivia made her way down the narrow corridor in the opposite direction. The light was dim and the floorboards were uneven. Halfway along the passage, she caught her toe on one of the warped boards which made her stumble and reach out for the nearest door for support.
When the room’s occupant chose that moment to open the door, she lost her balance. Her fingers brushed against something in the darkness and instinctively she grasped at it. By the time she realized she was clutching the finely-woven broadcloth of a gentleman’s coat, she had toppled against a solid masculine chest. An arm of implacable strength shot about her and Olivia found herself crushed against the man’s body. A hand clamped over her mouth. Panic welled up and her heart began to thump. She struggled, trying to gulp in air to scream.
Suddenly, he bent his head to whisper, “Don’t struggle or cry out. I’m not going to hurt you.”
She froze. The words had been quietly spoken, but there was something familiar about the velvet cadence of that voice. She could taste his skin where his palm rested against her lips. It
was clean, tinged with soap and salt…and strangely comforting. His words offered reassurance but it was the tone they were spoken in and an underlying tenderness in his iron grip that confirmed he meant no immediate harm.
His hand fell away from her mouth, but he did not release her. Instead his hands slid to her upper arms and she found herself expertly swung around in a single movement until she was wedged between his body and the door frame. Crushed closer still, she could feel his body heat and detect the sharp tang of shaving soap. The stillness was broken only by their breathing.
Suddenly, subtly, his embrace changed. It became more sensual, his hands gliding over her back and to her utter amazement, Olivia found herself arching toward him. The thought spun through her mind that their bodies fitted together perfectly, like two halves of a whole. Something deep within her welcomed his presence.
Unable to see clearly, her every other sense was heightened. She could hear the rasp of his breath and was conscious of the hard angles of his body. Muscular thighs rested against her legs, making her aware of his latent power. The satisfying hardness of his chest brushed her breasts and beneath her gown her skin grew unbearably sensitized, sending a jolt of pleasure through her. Her head slotted neatly under his chin, placing her in the perfect position to press her lips to the warm, inviting column of his throat barely inches away. Somehow, the feel of his body over hers felt deliciously right…safe, comforting, and yet at the same time incredibly erotic and holding the promise of even greater delights. Unfamiliar feelings unfurled inside her and instead of moving away, Olivia stood motionless and wanting more. Her senses felt dazed, swamped, the sensations so intense she felt almost drunk.
Then, a broken gasp escaped her and a blush swept over her from her toes to the roots of her hair. Why was she reacting like this to a stranger? If he was a gentleman, he must consider her no better than a demi-rep. She peered up through the darkness to try and make out his features.
“T-Thank you, Sir,” she said, breathlessly. “So foolish of me! I should have brought a candle, but my room is just along the passage. You may release me now. I hope I did not disturb you.” She saw the flash of white teeth as he smiled.
“Not in the way you might think,” came the cryptic reply.
The mellifluous whisper sent a quiver through Olivia.
“You’re as light as a feather,” he muttered. “I daresay I could break you in two if I chose, Miss Sloane.”
He moved and it was then she glimpsed the white streak amid raven-black hair.
“Mr Grey!”
“The very same.”
“You knew it was me all the time?” she demanded.
“Of course.” He laughed softly, his breath grazing her cheek.
“But you couldn’t even see me!”
“I don’t need to. I can sense your presence even in darkness.”
Her cheeks grew warmer still at the sensual note in his voice.
“Impossible!”
“Impossible? Oh no.”
She stared; her eyes were adjusting to the gloom and she could see his glittering, hypnotic gaze.
“You see, every detail of you is imprinted on my memory,” he was murmuring. “I may have only touched your hand or brushed my lips over your fingers, but I remember every occasion vividly and with considerable pleasure.” Tilting up her chin, his eyes gleamed blue fire as he whispered, “I know your skin is flawless and incredibly soft, that your fingertips are long, tapered and sensitive, that your bone structure is delicate, that you have a little birthmark between the second and third fingers of your left hand, and I know your scent reminds me of long summer nights made for love. I’d like to know more. Much more. It’s my belief every part of you is designed for driving a man to distraction.”
Another quiver ran through her and she swallowed convulsively. Surely only a rake could imbue such simple words with intimate overtones? Dimly, she became aware he was speaking again.
“When I saw your mother and brother had arrived, I wondered if they had brought you along too. I hardly know whether to be pleased or sorry.”
“N-Not a very gallant thing to say,” she managed to utter.
“Believe me when I say under normal circumstances, I would be delighted but with matters as they are, I wish you had remained in Bath for your own safety.”
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind…forget what I said. It must be moon madness making me speak so. Be glad it was me you encountered in this passageway.”
Olivia, who was feeling almost lightheaded, found herself rhythmically smoothing her hand over his coat lapel. She was fascinated by the raw masculinity lurking beneath his stillness, the astonishing strength constrained by his elegant physique. Having his body pressed against hers was the most enjoyable feeling she had ever experienced and yet Lucius Grey remained an enigma, a man of contradictions and secrets.
What manner of man was he?
Honourable or rakish? Reckless or prudent?
Good or evil, or a little of both?
Instinct told her he would do nothing against her will yet she also sensed a hidden ruthlessness, a power within him which could be unleashed with unmitigated ferocity. The thought was unnerving, but still she found herself whispering in reply, “I am glad.”
There was a long pause. She heard him drag in a tortured breath before his hand covered hers, stilling the movement of her palm over his chest.
“Don’t tempt me,” he pleaded huskily. “I would like to take further advantage of this situation—it’s true I am no saint!—but tonight…tonight, I must be a gentleman.”
With that, cooler air swept between them as he stepped back. Olivia was hard-pressed not to sigh with dismay.
“Allow me to see you to your door.”
“Y-Yes, of course.” She allowed him to lead her down the passageway until she stopped. “This is my mother’s room. I must go in to her before I retire. My room is next door so it will be safe to leave me here.” She studied his face, his features clearer now her eyes had adjusted. “Thank you.”
He gave a soft laugh, but it held a bitter note. “For what? The pleasure was mine, although I doubt I will enjoy a restful night now.” He kissed the back of her hand. “Sleep well.”
Olivia watched as he walked away, the shadowy outline of his torso filling the passageway. “Will I see you in the morning?” she called out in a low voice.
“Without a doubt.”
He did not turn around and as his figure was swallowed up by the gloom, she caught his words drifting back to her as he spoke again.
“Lock your door, Olivia.”
She stood unmoving, staring after him. When she was certain he had gone, she pulled herself together with an effort. The encounter had disturbed her more than she cared to admit. After taking another moment or two to collect herself, she knocked on her mother’s door, opening it when the curt command to enter reached her ears.
Theo found the parlour empty on his return from the stables. The covers had been removed and two bottles of wine had been set down alongside the brandy. Pouring himself a glass, he sat down and stared moodily into the embers of the fire.
His situation with Sophie had been difficult enough before, but things were in a devil of a coil now. When Sophie had announced her intention of getting married, he felt like he had been kicked in the gut by one of his horses. The thought infuriated, depressed and dismayed him. From what he could recall, Verney was a reasonable sort, but it would not do for Sophie to marry him.
For one thing, she had not seen him for five years. She had been a child then, not the woman she was now and, while Theo could not be certain how deeply her affections were engaged, Sophie did not seem to fully appreciate people could change. That Verney’s feelings might have altered did not seem to have entered into her plans. Theo had considered voicing his concerns more forcibly but, after much agonizing, decided against it. To do so would make him hateful in her eyes. It was Verney’s responsibility to disappoint her, if
indeed his feelings had altered, and Theo found he very much wanted Sophie to be disappointed when she met Verney again.
Sophie evidently considered herself still plighted and, given her loyal nature and her situation at Ludstone, it was not surprising she had set off for London as she did.
Having met Sophie’s aunt and cousin, Theo couldn’t blame her. A more unpleasant pair he had yet to encounter. They were grasping enough to force her into marriage to get their hands on the sapphire. It must be worth ten thousand pounds at least, probably more given its rarity, and its presence added to an already fraught situation. If word should get out it was in Sophie’s possession, she would become a target for every fortune hunter, highwayman, thief and charlatan in England.
And what of Lucius Grey? His explanation of why he had followed them did not ring true. Theo had racked his brain to remember where he had seen the man before, but without success. This irked him as he felt it offered a clue to the mystery of Grey’s background. Now they were all putting up for the night at The Pelican, with a confrontation looming tomorrow and a valuable jewel thrown in for good measure.
Unsettled, Theo tossed back the rest of his wine, ready to search out Lucius Grey and engage him in conversation. He was saved the trouble by Peregrine, who entered then, holding another bottle and two more glasses and accompanied by Grey.
To Theo’s astonishment, Peregrine seemed in an altogether more amicable mood.
“Ah, Cavanagh!” was his genial greeting. “Glad to find you still here.” He waved a hand in Grey’s direction. “Look who I ran into in the tap room! Luc is a friend of mine.” “We’ve already met,” said Theo.
Peregrine raised his brows. “Have you? Well, I was surprised to find him here, but he’s explained why and I’m pleased to have his company. After chasing my cousin most of the day, I’d like to relax with a hand or two of cards. Care to join us?”
“If you wish.” Theo wondered at the reasons for Sloane’s altered mood, but he was prepared to humour him for Sophie’s sake.
“Wouldn’t have asked you otherwise,” said Peregrine. “Never play cards with people I don’t like. I suppose you’re thinking about that business earlier with m’cousin.” He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “No hard feelings, eh, Cavanagh? She’s a provoking little chit at times, but engaging too. I can imagine how she persuaded you to take her up. Sophie’s given you some story about the way she’s been treated at Ludstone, but let me tell you, it isn’t true. My mother has done everything for the girl.”
Three Secrets and a Scandal (Regency Secrets and Scandals Book 2) Page 9