Valentine's Vow (Avenging Lords Book 3)

by Adele Clee

His smile faded. “You know there is more to our relationship than that.”

  “In what other capacity does a gentleman buy a lady perfume?”

  Valentine stared at her. He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. Eventually, he said, “I wish to buy you perfume regardless of how it looks. Now, is this the place you want to examine?” He stamped on the Turkish rug, seemed surprised at the hollow echo beneath his feet.

  Ava knew she had been stalling. Part of her preferred to live in ignorance. She bent down, gestured for Valentine to step back while she moved the rug and raised the board. Relief flooded through her when she saw the jewelled boxes.

  Lifting one out of the dusty narrow space, she handed it to Valentine. “Open it. Tell me it is full to the brim with minute gems.”

  Dipping his fingers into the box, he withdrew a handful of tiny but vibrant stones. “They may be small but kept together in a box like this they look remarkable.”

  “Most are worthless though they are priceless to me.”

  “Then they belonged to your parents,” he said.

  “My father mined every gem and crystal in that box.”

  “Have you ever thought of making something with them?”

  “I have many pieces of jewellery that far surpass anything one could make with those.”

  “Singularly, they are too small to be of any use. But together the stones make a rather bold statement. You could set them into the back of a hand mirror. They would work equally well in a hair comb.”

  Could he read her mind?

  Did this marvellous man know her innermost desires, her secrets?

  “I have various designs sketched. I take after my mother in that regard.” Ava had not mentioned her aspirations to another living soul. “She was the creative genius, my father the expert when it came to geology. He worked tirelessly to help her see her dreams realised, and she worshipped him for it.”

  “And yet people showered him with praise for his beautiful creations.”

  “My mother had no need for fame or notoriety. She loved her work and her family. That was enough.”

  It would be more than enough for Ava, too.

  Valentine’s gaze turned curious. “You say you have sketched designs, yet I sense you have not taken the next step to develop the craft.”

  “I may attend a meeting of ladies who crave enlightenment, but it is still very much a man’s world. Before one might begin, there are questions regarding premises and tools. I would need contacts abroad, need to learn about the importing of goods, perhaps charter a ship.”

  He shrugged. “All of which are feasible for a woman with your intelligence.”

  From a kneeling position, Ava looked up at him. Love filled her heart. The need to tell him came in a euphoric rush. Lord knows how she kept it at bay.

  “I would happily assist you in your endeavour,” he added.

  “You have always been kind and complimentary, even when I have acted like a complete buffoon.”

  “Tonight, your recklessness almost got you killed,” he agreed. “But your intentions are always honourable. They come from a place of goodness, and no one can condemn you for that.”

  “No,” she breathed.

  After a brief pause, she focused her attention on the other jewel-encrusted box beneath the boards. With care, she lifted it out of its hiding place and opened the lid.

  “Is there anything missing?” Valentine asked with some hesitation.

  Ava examined the contents. “Not that I can tell.”

  A sudden flicker in the corner of her eye drew her gaze back to the hollow space. Curious, she reached down and ferreted around amid the dust and cobwebs. A gasp caught in her throat when her hand settled on a ring.

  “Blessed saints!” She retrieved the pink diamond ring and stared at the rectangular-shaped stone, a burst of elation stealing her breath. “I—I don’t understand. It must have fallen out of the box.”

  Valentine crouched beside her. “Is that the ring you thought your brother had given to Lady Durrant?”

  “It is,” she replied with an air of wonder. “It is the only reason I went to Lord Rockford’s ball.”

  “Then I am glad it was missing for a time.”

  Ava met his gaze. “You are?”

  “Else, when would we ever have danced the waltz?”

  The memory of the first time he held her in his arms brought a flush of heat to her cheeks. “And what a wonderful dance it was.” How could she be angry at her brother when his wild antics had brought them together?

  A sudden pang of guilt hit her squarely in the chest. Jonathan had protested his innocence and yet she had found it impossible to believe him. He might be reckless with his own funds, but he had not stolen into her room and helped himself to her treasures.

  And neither had the intruder.

  Which begged the question—what was the rogue searching for?

  And if it was Mr Cassiel, who was his female accomplice?

  “Earlier, when Mrs Stagg described the intruder,” Ava began as she returned the ring to the box, closed the lid and placed it back beneath the board, “it was as though you recognised him.”

  Valentine handed her the box of coloured stones and then came to his feet. “There are things we need to discuss.” His weary sigh spoke of a burden. “About my mother’s missing ruby, about the fact I witnessed the same man who broke into this house follow you to the pawnbroker.”

  Ava’s heart lurched. “Mr Cassiel followed me to Grafton Street?”

  “What?” Valentine frowned. “The man your housekeeper described is the mystic?”

  “Yes. I am certain of it.” Doubt crept into her mind. She had been certain Jonathan had stolen her ring, too. “But what purpose would he have for committing such a terrible act?”

  Valentine dragged his hand down his face and rubbed his jaw. “That is what we must ascertain.” He reached out to her. “Come. I am not leaving you here. You’re coming home with me.”

  “What? Tonight?” Heavens, this man was full of surprises.

  “Yes, tonight.”

  “But—”

  “Do you not want to stay with me, Ava?”

  A nervous tickle fluttered up from her stomach to her throat. When he spoke in such a sensual tone how could a woman resist? “Yes, of course. But I cannot leave the servants, not after what happened here this evening.”

  “Then we will lock the house and take them with us.”

  “Oh.”

  “Any more objections?”

  There was one.

  “What about Honora?” It suddenly occurred to Ava that his mother might present some opposition to their blossoming friendship. After all, had he not vowed to marry Lady Durrant? “She hopes you will make Lady Durrant an offer.”

  An incredulous gape marred his fine features. “We all know there is no chance of that happening. What amazes me is that you think I would plan to pleasure you in my bedchamber while having designs on marrying someone else.” Disappointment rang loud.

  “That was not what I said.” Ava scrambled to form a defence. Her voice sounded jittery, a result of what he planned to do with her once alone in his home rather than nerves. “Yet I do not wish to cause Honora distress.”

  “My mother’s judgement is a little lapse at the moment.”

  “Honora’s judgement is never lapse.” Though Ava struggled to see why the matron would want her son to marry a woman so shallow and deceitful. Indeed, the more Honora pressed her son, the more he backed away.

  Interesting.

  “Let me worry about my mother. Besides, in her eyes, the daughter of Hamilton Kendall can do no wrong.”

  To hear her father’s name uttered aloud filled Ava’s chest with a warm glow. “I shall remind you of that the next time you find me in gentlemen’s clothes at the Westminster Pit.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “And so you were to investigate all the ladies who attend your mother’s meetings?” Ava said from her seat at the opposite e
nd of the dining table.

  The dim lighting, the roaring fire and his best bottle of claret might have set the scene for seduction had they not been discussing the fact she was on the list of those suspected of stealing his mother’s ruby.

  Bringing her to his home in Hanover Square had affected Valentine in ways he had not thought possible. A flurry of emotions had plagued his senses since she stepped over the threshold. A deep feeling of satisfaction settled in his chest. Aveline Kendall belonged in his house, in his life, in his bed. The urge to protect her surfaced.

  Here, she was safe.

  Here, he might pretend she was his.

  “Honora wished me to discover if any of her friends had motive enough to steal her precious gem,” he replied, feeling somewhat ashamed that he had not broached the subject earlier.

  “You speak of the ruby you said my father sold on his last visit to England?” Ava clarified.

  She had not touched her supper since he explained the nature of the theft that occurred at his mother’s house. Thankfully, the selection of meats and pastries were served cold.

  “I do.”

  “Then I do not need to tell you that the stone is rare and consequently worth a king’s ransom.”

  “The paste replica is impressive in itself,” he agreed.

  “Neither my brother nor I knew anything of the sale. There was no record amongst my father’s accounts. Mr F-Fairfax perished along with my parents in the mine, and so we presumed the ruby was either lost or stolen.”

  “Mr Fairfax?” A pang of jealousy stabbed Valentine’s chest. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he sensed she was once fond of the gentleman.

  “My father’s man of business. He may have known why my father neglected to mention he had sold the gem to your mother.”

  “I cannot speak for your father’s motives for failing to disclose the sale.” Valentine sipped his wine as he studied her expression. She seemed irritated. Her down-turned mouth spoke of frustration and a heavy sadness. “And if it is any consolation, my mother has faith that you are in no way involved in the deception.”

  “I should hope so.” She stared at the wine in her glass, lost in thoughtful contemplation. “Perhaps my father used the funds to purchase the house. Perhaps it suited his purpose to have me live opposite a woman he clearly held in high regard.”

  “Perhaps.”

  She glanced at the slices of ham on her plate but pushed the china away.

  “And have you had any success during your investigation?”

  Guilt weighed heavily in his chest. “Your brother’s problems have monopolised my time. I have yet to focus my attention on prying into the suspects’ private affairs.”

  “I see.” Her tone carried a hint of shame. Out of thirst or some other need, she took a large gulp of wine. “I doubt any of the ladies who meet at your mother’s house had anything to do with the theft.”

  “Someone had prior knowledge of the stone. Else how would they have made a replica?” The more the questions and answers were batted back and forth, the more he felt her withdrawing from him. This was not how he envisioned a night spent sharing an intimate supper. “Which brings me back to my suspicions about Mr Cassiel.”

  The mere mention of the man’s name wiped the colour from her cheeks.

  What was it about the mystic that unnerved her so?

  Valentine recalled the first time he enquired after Cassiel whilst in his mother’s drawing room, recalled the way Ava’s dark eyes flashed with fear. That was before she suspected him of ransacking her home. Had something happened during the seance that night? If so, there was every chance it was relevant to current events.

  “Must we speak of him?”

  Valentine’s heart wrenched. What the hell had the blackguard done to her?

  “You said you first noticed various items missing from your home two weeks ago,” he reminded her. “That was when Mr Cassiel came to my mother’s house. Since then, a man matching his description has trailed you across town, tried to steal your reticule and has since broken into your house regardless of the fact there were witnesses.”

  A shiver ran through him.

  Angelo Cassiel grew more desperate, more dangerous, by the day.

  “What if I am wrong, and it is not him at all, but merely someone with the same dark hair and penetrating gaze? I cannot condemn a man on a whim no matter how much he terrifies me.”

  Valentine downed a mouthful of wine to calm the sudden anger that pushed to the surface. No wonder men turned to drink when plagued by volatile emotions.

  “Then we will hire him for Drake’s dinner party and use the opportunity to examine the man further.”

  Ava jerked her head back in shock. “We? But you cannot expect me to attend. I couldn’t. I couldn’t sit with him alone in a room again, Valentine. Do not ask it of me.”

  Taking his wine glass, Valentine pushed out of his chair. He came to sit in the chair to her right. While he had purposely kept his distance for fear of ravaging her mouth like a madman, he could not comfort her from the opposite end of the table.

  “I will be there with you,” he said, placing his hand on hers. Any contact always sent his stomach somersaulting. “Together, we will discover if he is the rogue we seek, and what he wants with you. If we are wrong, then we must seek professional assistance.”

  “Professional assistance?”

  “Hire a runner or an enquiry agent.”

  She dragged her hand out from under his and gripped his fingers. “He told me things, things he could not have known.” Her eyes misted. “He told me something that plays over and over in my mind, and it scares me, Valentine.”

  Regardless whether the mystic was guilty of theft or not, Valentine would throttle him for causing the lady distress.

  “Remember that they’re the words of a fraud, and should be discarded without thought.”

  “You don’t understand. He spoke the truth. Mr Cassiel knew what my parents wore on the day they died.” She squeezed his hand harder as the first tear trickled down her cheek. “He knew of their plans to return to England.”

  Men like Cassiel knew how to extract information from their unsuspecting prey. They had a certain way of speaking that made a person divulge snippets of their life, enough for them to form a mental picture, enough for them to make predictions.

  “Did he say anything else?”

  More tears fell. He wanted to take her in his arms, but then he might never learn what the rogue had said to cause her so much pain.

  “He said—” A sob choked her throat. She coughed. “He said that my parents did not die in the mining accident. He said they were murdered.”

  Murdered?

  A blinding fury forced Valentine to his feet. “Then he will pay dearly for his lies. The man has taken his theatrical farce too far.” Upon witnessing the signs of her distress, he drew her to her feet and embraced her while she sobbed until there were no more tears left to shed.

  “I miss them, Valentine,” she blurted into his waistcoat. “It is hard enough to know they met their end in such a tragic way, crushed by the sudden rockfall, but to think someone may have robbed them of their happiness. It is too much to bear.”

  That bastard, Cassiel, had no right to prey on the defenceless with his wicked tales. What the hell did he hope to gain?

  “When we meet with Cassiel, we will determine the truth if I have to strangle the man to within an inch of his life.”

  “If he is the … the intruder, I doubt he will agree to another meeting.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest.

  “Of course he will.” Valentine stroked her hair as the wracking sobs subsided. “If Mr Cassiel is innocent, he will want our business. If he is guilty, the desperation of his actions tonight suggests he needs something more from you. The opportunity will be too tempting to resist.”

  Ava looked up at him, tears still glistening in her eyes. “How would I have ever managed without you? I thought I was s
tronger than this but—”

  “Hush, love.” He placed his finger on her lips. “You’re one of the strongest women I know.” In that respect, she reminded him of his mother. Honora’s tireless efforts to protect her family made her a force to be reckoned. “No doubt you would have found a way to deal with this, even if it meant shooting every blackguard who dared cross your path.”

  “I would never pull the trigger. I could never take a person’s life.”

  “What about a monkey’s life?”

  A faint smile brightened her countenance. “I could not hurt an animal, either, but I would wrestle the creature to the ground if need be.”

  It was his turn to laugh though the action aggravated the scratch on his cheek.

  He wiped her tears away with his thumbs and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “You should eat something. Trauma can make a person ill, and you need to bolster your strength for what lies ahead.”

  “But I’m not hungry.”

  “Won’t you at least try?”

  She stared at him as her sadness lifted. He wondered if it was his own desire he saw reflected back at him. But her breathing grew shallow, and she moistened her lips. He knew then that she wanted him.

  “I do not want to think about Mr Cassiel tonight, Valentine. I do not want him to occupy my thoughts when I go to sleep.” She placed her hand on his chest. “Help me find a distraction.”

  “A distraction?”

  “Help me feel pleasure, not pain.”

  A hard lump formed in his throat. Ava’s honesty proved highly arousing.

  This was the moment to ask of her expectations. Did she want more than a wild ride in bed? Was she aware of the consequences, of the risks?

  “You’re certain this is the course you wish to take?”

  “I do not ask you to make promises.” She came up on her tiptoes and kissed him tenderly on the lips.

  No? Well, she damn well should.

  “I ask only that you follow your heart,” she added.

  Valentine stared into her hazy brown eyes and realised he had been following his heart since the day she approached him in the field near Chalk Farm. Indeed, logic told him that it was wrong to take an innocent woman to bed—not at all the actions of a respected peer of the realm. And yet the thought of making love to this woman consumed him.