Brethen 03 - Temptation & Twilight

by Charlotte Featherstone

  It would be too easy to have a woman come in and demand this or that, and for him to toss out his calling card and have the bill run up, and his secretary drop off a draft. That would be cold and impersonal, rather like Georgiana herself.

  “Oh, here it comes.” She suddenly squealed with pleasure as Waters emerged from the back room carrying a little red box. “It’s absolutely stunning. I don’t know anything that could top it, except perhaps—” her smile was coy as she gazed back into the case “—that wonderful diamond choker.” She fluttered her lashes, and Iain felt a rise of impatience and annoyance.

  “Madam, your ring.” Waters produced the box and carefully opened the lid with a little creak of the leather.

  Georgiana gasped and squealed again, and Iain forced himself not to roll his eyes.

  The ring was enormous, full of clusters of diamonds, with a large emerald-shaped diamond in the centre. “Its total weight is five carats, correct?” Waters nodded. “Yes, my lady.”

  Slipping it on over her glove, she marveled at its size.

  “Lovely,” she said as she waved her hand about, so the gemstones flashed in the light. “Thousands of pounds, wasn’t it, Mr. Waters?”

  The man cleared his throat, and Iain studied the ring on her finger, feeling curiously devoid of any sort of response. Ostentatious and gaudy, the ring did nothing for him. Nothing like his visions of Beth in that necklace.

  “It was a truly integument gift, Lady Larabie,” Waters agreed with something more of politeness than the lady possessed.

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  He could afford to purchase such a ring as that, Iain mused, but what was the point, when it meant nothing? It was just to appease, to toss literally thousands of pounds out the window.

  “I’ll take the moonstones,” he blurted, shocking both Waters and Georgiana.

  “But I don’t like it,” she said with a pout, then seemed to recover as she recalled how she must look to Waters.

  “I mean, I told you that your lady and I have remarkably similar tastes, and if I do not care for the piece, then I’m quite certain she will not, either. I’d hate for you to waste your money on something that will only lie hidden away at the bottom of a jewel box. Or worse, require the inconvenience of a journey back to return it. Now, if you are interested in parting with some of your money, then permit me to suggest that you begin looking at this lovely diamond choker.”

  “Waters, the moonstone.”

  “Well, then,” Georgiana said with a little huff, “I suppose I should be off.”

  “Good day, Lady Larabie.”

  Iain watched her make a grand exit out of the shop and into the carriage that waited on the street for her. He was aware of how Waters watched him as he carefully wrapped up the necklace in a black velvet pouch.

  “Do not fret, Waters, the necklace is going to a lady of rare beauty, exceptional elegance and purity. The harridan who just left will never possess it.” Waters’s smile could only be called sly. “As I said upon your arrival, your lordship has a good eye, and dare I say it, an uncanny instinct.”

  Iain nodded and reached out for the pouch, which was tied with a satin ribbon. Then he handed Waters his card, BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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  instructing him to send the bill around that afternoon, and Iain would see he was paid immediately.

  Before Iain was out the door, Waters called out to him.

  “I do hope that I shall one day meet the lady who has been so fortunate as to have you purchase this for her.”

  “I hope so, too, Waters. And then you might have occasion to fit her for my ring.” BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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  CHAPTER TEN

  “I HEAR CONGRATULATIONS are in order.” Slowly, Elizabeth strolled alongside Lord Sheldon, her hand on his arm, as Maggie walked a discreet distance behind them. Jack, Sheldon’s retriever, pranced beside them, his panting interspersed with the sound of his paws crunching the gravel, and the jangle of the lead.

  It was a crisp morning, the wind carrying with it the promise of something more biting by the afternoon. She could almost smell snow in the air, and the remnants of the morning’s cold, clean frost blanketing the grass.

  The breeze whispered against the short bonnet veil she had worn to hide the large bump and bruise on her forehead. Maggie had said her eye was not black-and-blue, but merely shadowed beneath. Still, Lizzy hadn’t wanted to draw any attention to it.

  Vanity and pride, she thought as they walked the quiet paths of Hyde Park. Who knew she had a good measure of both?

  “Yes, they are,” she answered, thinking back to that morning, and Sussex awakening her in bed with the news.

  “How did you hear of it so soon?” Sheldon’s laugh had a rich timbre. “I literally ran into His Grace dashing down the steps of your house, as I was jogging up. He seemed in great haste to get to Lady Lucy’s—or rather his fiancée, as he called her.”

  “Yes, all excitement, I’m sure,” Elizabeth replied neu-BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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  trally. Her brother had compromised Lucy last night.

  Lizzy had barely been awake when Sussex had announced the news. The wedding would take place on the morrow—nothing grand, but private, in the salon of Lucy’s father’s—Lord Stonebrook’s—town house in Grosvenor Square.

  While Elizabeth had never doubted Adrian’s success in making Lucy Ashton his bride, she was well aware that her brother’s sense of honour had been shoved to the side, if he had, indeed, compromised her friend as he had stated. She couldn’t help but wonder what Lucy was feeling this morning. Lizzy had been friends with her for only a few weeks, but in that short time they had become very close, each of them sharing intimate secrets with the other. She had known Lucy long enough to realize she would not look kindly upon a fait accompli marriage. It wasn’t the way either of them would wish to embark upon married life.

  Lizzy had wanted to go with Adrian to see Lucy, but he’d refused, stating only that he needed to speak with her in private, and reassure her that he had not intended for them to be discovered last night—at the House of Orpheus of all places.

  Elizabeth had been quietly stewing as she breakfasted alone. Before Alynwick and his outrageous suggestion of keeping her out of Brethren business, Sussex would have told her the circumstances of how he and Lucy had found themselves at Orpheus’s infamous club.

  But that morning, her brother would not speak of it, only to tell her that he had found Lucy safe, and that they were to be married. “This afternoon, Black and Alynwick are to meet here,” he said. “You can come into my study, Lizzy, and discover the facts then. I must be off.

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  I have a special licence to obtain, and a woman to con-vince that marriage to me will be a dream of a lifetime.” Elizabeth had every intention of attending the gathering, but then Lord Sheldon had arrived, requesting that she join him for a walk around the park, and she decided it was silly to sit and stew when the sun was finally shining and a handsome gentleman was requesting she spend some time with him.

  Besides, she and Isabella would be calling on Lucy this afternoon for tea, and she would find out all the details Sussex thought he should deny her.

  “I hope they’ll both be happy,” Sheldon said as he deftly steered them to the left along the curving path.

  “I have no doubt
they will,” she answered. Tipping her face to the sun, which had finally chosen to shine, she smiled, basking in the warmth that penetrated the lace.

  “What a lovely day it is.”

  “A bit crisper than yesterday,” he replied, “but all the same, rather refreshing. This will be my first winter back home since I was a child. I can hardly wait to see the snow.”

  Inhaling the cold air, Elizabeth claimed, “You won’t have to wait long, I think. The scent of it is in the air.”

  “Can you smell it? Truly?”

  He sounded a little astonished, and she gave a small smile, enjoying how he did not seem to shy away from the fact that she was blind. “I can. I have a heightened sense of smell, and hearing, too. It’s very common for those who have lost a sense to discover the remaining ones more defined.”

  “I’ve heard of the coming fall scenting the air, but never snow in winter.”

  “Here. Stop for a moment and close your eyes.” He did, and when she was sure he stood quiet and still BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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  with his eyes pressed firmly shut, she said, “Now, take a deep breath and bring the air into your lungs.” He did as she requested, drawing the breath into his chest. “The air does have a scent,” he allowed. “And a taste I was never aware of before. But whether it is of impending snow or not, I cannot say.” They began strolling again, and Elizabeth allowed her gloved fingers to sink into the woollen sleeve of Sheldon’s coat. “When you see those first few flakes, my lord, go outside, close your eyes and draw in the air. You will find that it smells the same as it does now.”

  “I will, Lady Elizabeth, if only to prove that my nose is not abysmal in skill.”

  They laughed, and Jack began to jump and pull in excitement at the sounds they were making. “Down!” Sheldon barked, and the dog complied immediately, settling back into a pace the animal, Elizabeth knew, felt was too sedate.

  “Poor old Jack, I’m slowing him up.”

  “Nonsense. He just has to learn not everything is a race.”

  “He is young, yes?”

  “Not yet two.”

  “Ah, yes, just a pup, then. Full of vinegar, young dogs are. I have no doubt he’ll settle in.”

  “He’s doing much better than I thought he would,” Sheldon said, and Elizabeth heard pride in his voice. “In Egypt he had the run of the desert, catching whatever he desired. But now he’s been confined to strolls and manicured parks. This is his first ‘real’ walk in the park.

  Normally by now I would be doubled over, out of breath after chasing him along the paths. The devilish creature has an inordinate fondness for ladies’ hems, I’m afraid.

  He’s forever tugging at them, thinking it a grand game.

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  When they shriek in dismay, it only makes him want to play more.”

  “Poor Jack.” Elizabeth laughed. “It’s rather like being a woman, all caged up and forbidden to let her hair down and race in the wind atop a gleaming horse. Stuffy old rules, aren’t they, Jack?”

  The dog panted harder, and she fancied he was gazing up at her, his tongue lolling heavily, as if he understood that in her he had found a kindred spirit.

  “Yes, they are stuffy rules, as you say.” Sheldon’s voice grew deeper, more thoughtful. “Do you ride, Elizabeth?”

  “I used to, and when we are in the country my brother takes me riding with him. We can’t, of course, in the city. Rather unseemly for a lady to share a saddle with a gentleman, even if it is her brother. Besides, it’s safer for me to ride astride, and that would send the matrons of the ton into fits of paroxysms if they were to see me that way, looking like some wild creature from the moors.” He laughed at the mental picture she created. “Yes, I can see your point. But something tells me you would welcome a late-night ride or early dawn jaunt through the mists of the park, your hair blowing in the wind.”

  “Oh, yes. It would be grand. I assume you are used to riding hell-bent through the desert on a magnificent black Arabian?”

  “Once or twice,” he admitted. “But it would be a rather novel thing here in England. Would cause quite a stir if one was discovered being so reckless, and informally dressed, for I prefer nothing but boots, britches and a linen shirt when I ride.”

  She could see him quite clearly on his horse, white shirt billowing in the breeze, against a backdrop of golden sand dunes. Why were only men allowed such luxuries?

  she thought with a sigh.

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  “Indeed it would be rather scandalous here in London.

  That is why I only risk the scandal in the north, where there are none but sheep to tell on you.”

  “Ah, yes. Quite. Nothing much but sheep, and amazing scenery up there, isn’t that correct?”

  “That’s what makes it perfect.”

  “Your family’s home is near Whitby, I understand.”

  “It is. I used to run down a path from the estate that led to the beach. Tides can be a bit unpredictable there, but it was a fantastic spot for fossil collecting. Are you a collector, my lord?”

  They kept up their pace, and Elizabeth enjoyed listening to the sounds of life going on around her. Jack was pulling again, and Sheldon was tugging on the leash, keeping him in line. When the earl was satisfied that the dog was minding him for the moment, he answered, “I am a collector. But then I think it’s a bit of a compulsion with archaeologists. We love to discover objects, but are loath to give them up. In my private collection, I have artefacts from Jerusalem, and a large number of Templar relics. Like you, I’ve been fascinated by the order since boyhood. I spent nearly a year working in the Holy City on a Royal Archaeological expedition at Temple Mount.

  That is where I discovered the story of the three Templars I told you about yesterday.”

  “Oh, yes,” she murmured, her voice growing faint. She fought the urge to nibble her lip nervously.

  “As a connoisseur of Templars, Elizabeth, have you ever heard such a story before I shared it with you?”

  “No, I’m afraid I haven’t.” She was thankful for the veil, and the way it would shield the lie in her eyes. “Although I am aware that there are many stories and theories that link the Templars to religious artefacts. But none seem to hold up to any kind of intense scrutiny. After BOUND GALLEY EDITION March 23, 2012

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  they were disbanded and murdered, so few remained of the order that their stories and artefacts have disappeared, much like the order itself. I doubt we shall ever really know the truth.”

  “I believe very strongly that story of the three Templars is true. But what I’m most fascinated about—driven to find out, really—is if the tale of the fourth Templar is true. I have found some credible evidence that he did exist, but what happened to the quartet, I do not know.

  I only know that his body was discovered in the desert.

  Murdered. And the remaining three were gone, never to be heard from again. So, too, were the relics they were carrying out of Jerusalem when they fled the Holy Land for the safety of Scotland.”

  “So the story of the fourth Templar stops there with his dead body, does it?”

  “No, indeed it doesn’t. It goes forward quite a few centuries, in fact.”

  Tiny hairs on her neck stood at attention. The story of the fourth Templar, she had been told, was a work of fiction. A fairy tale. There had only ever been three Templars who formed the Brethren Guardians: Sinjin Yo
rk, her ancestor; Haelan St. Clair, the Marquis of Alynwick; and Drake Sheldon, the Earl of Black. She paused, her brow furrowing in thought. It hadn’t occurred to her before. Was it possible that the Sheldon surname was in any way related to this matter, and the earl’s title? Or was it merely coincidence? Still, her companion’s cryptic revelation drew her deeper into the story of the fourth Templar, who was supposed to have been murdered and betrayed by the three Brethren, many generations removed.

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  about the Brethren, and the relics? If, indeed, the trail of the fourth Templar did not die out, was it possible that Orpheus was part of his lineage? Was he seeking revenge upon the Brethren for wrongful deeds done to his ancestor? Seemed rather unlikely, but still, she must share this information with Sussex. It might very well be of help. Although it did not really aid them in understanding how Orpheus had connected their long-dead father’s past mistress to Sussex.

  “The archaeologist in me,” Sheldon continued, “would give a king’s ransom to find the religious relics they smuggled out of the East. For certain, there was a chalice.” He paused, then said quietly, “And a scroll that reportedly was hidden within the Ark of the Covenant.” Oh, dear… Already he knew far too much for her comfort. The York family had been entrusted with the chalice, and Alynwick’s family kept the scroll safe. The latter, as far as she knew, was the most important relic, for it was inscribed with the ways to bring all three artefacts together, and in a ceremony of alchemy, and black magic, give the person who possessed all three unimaginable power. Power that was never meant to be in the hands of a mere mortal.

  If one believed in such things, of course. And Elizabeth, despite her good common sense, did.

  “Do you think the Temple Church might hold any information about these relics you seek?”

  “I hope so. What’s more, I think it might house clues about the identity of the three Templars, and where the artefacts might be.”