“And publish it in every damn journal out there.” Shrugging, Elizabeth said, “Then we shall have to think of what is to be done, if and when he arrives at that point. Speaking of points,” she muttered, “I fancy we have another very interesting point to discuss.”
“And what is that, Lizzy?”
“Lord Sheldon, it seems, has had a very nasty run-in with one Mr. Nigel Lasseter.”
The room went still. Iain heard the breath leave Sussex’s lungs, and the two men exchanged alarmed glances.
“Oh?” the duke said.
“Remember that Templar cache of treasure I told you about? Well, apparently Mr. Lasseter was working at the time in Temple Mount alongside Lord Sheldon. One night when Sheldon was working, he was struck on the back of the head. He fought his assailant, and was able to see who it was. Nigel Lasseter. The man left Sheldon for dead, and made off with the cache. Sheldon informed me that Lasseter has been selling off bits and bobs of the treasure ever since. However, I don’t believe that his lordship is aware that Lasseter is now in London. He mentioned merely that he had heard Lasseter might be in Town. Nor do I think he knows of Lasseter’s sponsorship of Knighton’s expedition to the Holy City. I did not tell him, nor did I confirm anything about Lasseter.”
“You were right not to tell him, Lizzy. And to come to me with this.”
“I thought it all very much reminded me of sacred geometry. You remember, brother, how Father would always move around the chalice, hiding it, using shapes on a map that had meaning. In my mind I noted all the names and places of things that have happened, and mentally drew the lines, connecting everything. I think if you place the names in a certain order and connect the lines, you will have something. Although one must possess sight to see it.”
Iain’s rage was replaced with a swelling pride. Elizabeth York had always been the loveliest, most angelic creature he had ever known. He had desired her not only for her looks, but her voluptuous, luscious body, and the way she had allowed him to use it for his pleasure. She had become even more lovely in the ensuing years, her body more enticing. The promise of a beautiful, wanton sensuality sparkled in her eyes. But at this moment, he thought of none of that. Only stared at her, marvelling at how damn intelligent she was. The beauty of the organ hidden beneath the beautiful face. What a beautiful intelligence you have, my love. He might have said the words if Sussex wasn’t present to hear them.
“Sacred geometry,” Iain murmured admiringly.
“Yes, my lord. The Templars were the ones to use it, a knowledge that of course was passed down by the Freemasons at Solomon’s temple. Today it’s used by the Masons. All very relevant to our situation, don’t you think?”
“I don’t need to think, for you have clearly done so for us. I don’t believe any of us would have reached that conclusion.”
“Yes, well,” she muttered, her smile chilling, “this is what happens when you relegate able-bodied minds to the corner because they are of the wrong sex.” She would not let it go, and Iain smiled, admiring how fierce and stubborn she was.
“Well, that is all,” she said, before carefully rising from the chair.
Sussex reached for the bell cord, signaling for a servant. “I don’t like this, Lizzy,” he warned. “It could be very dangerous. We know very little about Sheldon.”
“I’ve never felt threatened in Lord Sheldon’s company.
This is truly the only way to discover what he knows, and what he might learn. And despite what some of you think, I can be of some assistance.”
“Lizzy,” Sussex groaned in warning, but was interrupted by his butler.
“Your Grace, you rang?”
“Yes, Lady Elizabeth is ready to go upstairs. Call for Charles, will you?”
“At once, Your Grace,” the butler said, before bowing.
“Oh,” Elizabeth said. “One more thing, Adrian. I had tea with Lucy this afternoon after my walk. She really is quite down in spirits. I informed her—vowed, really—that you would make a most loving, honourable and caring husband. Please do not make a liar of me.” The duke laughed. “I will not. You’ll see, Lizzy. I promise to make her the happiest woman on earth.”
“I told her that. She didn’t reply, but in my mind, I could see her frown in dismay. You do have your work cut out for you. But, then, anything worth possessing is worth traipsing the levels of hell for, isn’t it? Especially a woman’s love.” Lizzy’s smile was brilliant. “My book, please.”
Iain reached for the leather tome, then for her hand, allowing his bare fingers to slide down hers, skin to skin.
The light, fluttering touch was so unbearably erotic that her breath caught as he placed the book in her hand.
He noticed what it was, and tipped his head to the side, studying the intricate heraldry work on the spine. What was she doing with this?
“Thank you, my lord.” Her words were clipped, her tone anything but gracious.
She had known it was him passing her the book, and he wondered if she had smelt him once more. The thought set the animal in him purring. As he held her hand in his, while they cradled the book together, his mind conjured up the very delicious image of Elizabeth lying on top of him, her hair loose and unbound, dragging over him, cocooning him as she worked her way down his body, traversing him with her nose, smelling him, tasting him, listening to his demands.
My God, I would crawl through every dominion of hell, if only to have you once more.
A deep voice cleared, then coughed, forcing Iain to release her hand. The footman was waiting, and reluctantly, Iain placed Elizabeth’s hand on the servant’s forearm.
“My lady?”
“Yes, I’m ready, Charles. Adrian, will I see you at supper?”
“Yes. You will.”
Iain could not take his eyes off Elizabeth as she disappeared from the room with the footman.
“I trust, Alynwick, that you will know what to do about Sheldon?”
“Indeed, I do.”
And he did. He’d see to it that she was never alone with the earl—and that she did not lose her heart to the bastard. That, Iain silently fumed, would once more belong to him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“YOUR HANDS ARE COLD,” Maggie noted as she took Elizabeth’s gloves from her. “And you’re pale, too. Does your head still pain you? It’s terribly bruised. Darker even than this morning.”
“No, my head is quite sound.” Her pride still stung however, but that was nothing new. She had developed an excess of the vice since losing her sight. There was nothing worse than being thought of as an invalid, when one was in perfectly good health and capable of still doing some things for oneself. “I will admit, however, that I am a bit chilled.” Elizabeth vigorously rubbed her hands together to get the blood flowing once again. “The wind was rather biting at times this afternoon, wasn’t it?”
“Indeed it was.”
“I would wager that a storm is approaching. I could sense it on my walk.”
“Yes. The infamous stroll,” Maggie teased. “Common sense would say that you should have ended your jaunt about the park much sooner than you did. But when the heart is engaged the head is never listened to, is it?”
“Maggie,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “You are very unsubtle.”
“Am I?” Lizzy could heard the feigned innocence in her companion’s voice. “Perhaps I should just come out and ask, then?”
“That would be far too bold of you,” she teased.
“Let me overstep my bounds, this time.” Laughing, she gasped, “This time?”
“I’m only wondering what the two of you were talking about all that while. I swear, my tootsies were throbbing by the time you turned about and declared it time to make our way back to the carriage. I nearly wept with relief.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know your feet were paining you.
You should have told me.”
“And brought an abrupt end to your visit with that fine-looking gentleman? How selfish.”
“Is he fine, Maggie?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“As tanned as any infidel or Caribbean pirate, I wager.
And hair that is kissed by the sun. Devilishly handsome, especially when he glances down at you and smiles.” Elizabeth felt a touch giddy, and stemmed the silly reaction. “Lucy mentioned he was tolerable.”
“Tolerable?” Maggie cried. “Why, I daresay he’s more than tolerable! He is really quite handsome, and very kind about the eyes, if you don’t mind my saying. And gentlemanly, too. He helped me down from the carriage, you know. Most fine gennlemen, ” she drawled, “can’t be bothered seeing to the assistance of the help.”
“He has stolen your heart, has he?”
“Nonsense. I’m just trying to throw yours into his keeping, is all.”
Elizabeth did not have an answer to that. It was much too soon. She liked Lord Sheldon, very much. They had many interests in common, and seemed able to converse with friendly ease and teasing banter, which was always a good sign. And there was no denying the blooming attraction, at least on her part. But she had been taken in before, and could not afford to be so rash this time around.
Elizabeth listened to the sounds of her companion rustling about her room. Maggie must have tugged a bell pull because there was a slight rap at the door, followed by the sound of the upstairs maid.
“You rang, miss?”
“Build the fire, if you please,” Maggie requested.
“Lady Elizabeth is chilled.”
“Right away, ma’am.”
Elizabeth immediately pulled a face. She did not like it when people fussed over her. She was blind, not frail and dying.
“Oh, don’t do that,” Maggie commanded. “Don’t give me that sour expression. There’s been many a hearty soul brought low by the cold. I daresay many that are heartier than you.”
“You fuss too much, Maggie.”
“It’s my duty.”
“Fibber, it’s your delight to vex me.”
“Never,” Maggie said with good cheer. “That’s enough wood for now, Agatha. On you go.” When the door closed behind the maid, Maggie let out a long, aggrieved sigh. “That girl. Wherever did His Grace find her?”
“Someplace dark and dangerous, and most inappropri-ate for a young woman of her years, is what he told me.” Sussex was always out, prowling the streets of the East End, trying to save as many souls as he could. Elizabeth supported his endeavours in any way she could.
“Well, they must have very dirty hearths in the East End, for she’s made quite a mess of the embers.”
“If they have burning hearths at all,” she reminded her companion. “Besides, I can’t see the embers, therefore they aren’t bothering me.”
“Well, they’re bothering me. I’ll have to have a word with her.”
“Give her a chance, Maggie. She’s only held the post for a fortnight. Besides, I don’t want her thinking I’m a harridan. I quite like the girl. She’s friendly and she doesn’t walk about as though I were a fragile china doll ready to shatter into shards. Let her be, if you please.”
“Very well. Now, then, what do you wish to wear for supper?”
“Something comfortable. It is only Sussex and I tonight, and I’m quite sure it will be a short evening for us both.”
“Yes, His Grace’s wedding day is tomorrow. Everyone in the household is so very happy for him, and seems genuinely fond of Lady Lucy. She’ll make a good duch-ess, and a good mistress to the staff.”
“Yes, she will.” Lizzy smiled fondly as she thought of her friend. “And I will be happy to call her sister.”
“I’ll begin the packing tonight, then.”
“Oh, no, didn’t I tell you? I won’t be joining Sussex in Yorkshire. I’m staying behind in London.” The long silence told Elizabeth all she needed to know.
Maggie, like her brother, thought it a miserable idea. With a groan, Elizabeth flopped back onto the bed and curled against Rosie, who was sleeping deeply.
“Is that really wise, my lady? You’ve always accom-panied His Grace.”
“His Grace was never on his honeymoon. Maggie, trust me, the last place I should be is traipsing along with Sussex and Lucy while they honeymoon. Imagine it, my being dependent upon them, and them just starting out their lives together. No, there will be many more years ahead in which I shall be a burden to them. I will not be one on their honeymoon!”
“You most certainly are not a burden!”
“You know what I mean. It’s not as though I am completely independent. I will need assistance, Maggie. And you would be there, too, but you know my brother. He hovers, though he thinks he does not. He dotes, too. The only person he should be doting upon is Lucy.”
“I wonder if you’re all too pleased to stay in London because of a certain someone?”
Fear temporarily gripped her. Was Maggie referring to Alynwick? No, of course not, she thought, shaking her head. Maggie could have no knowledge of her past with the marquis, or the strange feelings he had begun to earnestly churn within her. For so long she had been safe from him. He had kept his distance, and their conversations, although short and strained, had always been polite—and disinterested. And now they were anything but.
He was anything but distant. For the past few days he’d been a constant presence within her home, a beautiful, sensual, unwelcome visitor in her dreams. Damn the man, she smelt his scent in almost every room of the house.
This was just another example of how Iain affected her. Maggie was insinuating Elizabeth would be happy to stay in London because of Lord Sheldon, but all that came to mind was Iain.
How dangerous he was to her peace of mind. She had refused to think of him in that way for years, and now could hardly stay focused on the innocent conversation she was having with her companion, without images of Iain, and the supple glide of his fingers along hers, intruding. She could be dead and buried, lying in the cold ground, and still vividly recall the sensation of those incredibly skilled fingers trailing over her body. Every inch of her discovered, and she had allowed it. She couldn’t allow it again. The first time, she’d been innocent. Had naively believed everything he had said. Falling victim to his skilled seduction was no fault of her own. But to fall again, when she was supposedly older and wiser… Well, she would deserve everything she got, then, wouldn’t she?
“You look knackered, lying there atop those pillows.
Why don’t you rest for a bit before dinner?” How kind Maggie was to leave her alone, in bed, with tumultuous thoughts of Iain to torment her. Lizzy had spent a perfectly pleasurable afternoon with Sheldon, indulging in a wonderful conversation with a man she knew she could quite easily feel something very strongly for, only to come home and have every memory, every feeling for him wiped clean, with the sound of a voice and the touch of a hand….
Damn you, Iain Sinclair….
Without awaiting her reply, Maggie left her, the quiet click of the door signaling her departure. Rosie heard it, gave a little growl, then immediately stretched out again, nuzzling her muzzle into Lizzy’s palm.
“Elizabeth?” Her companion had returned.
“Yes?”
“Allow me to overstep my bounds once more, and say that Lord Alynwick is a very handsome man, too. I daresay even more so than Lord Sheldon.”
“That is far too bold, Maggie Farley.”
“Perhaps, but I thought it needed saying. He cares for you, Elizabeth. It’s ablaze in his eyes, tattooed on his face.”
“Maggie—”
“Enjoy your rest.” The door clicked quietly shut again.
“What am I going to do, little mouse?” she whispered to her faithful spaniel. “What a simpleton I am for even giving the man a second thought. You think me silly, don’t you?”
Rosie answered her by licking her wrist.
“Yes, you wish I would cease bellyaching about him.
I’m sure you’re quite tired of hearing his name, and my complaints.”
With a gr
owl, Rosie rolled onto her back, paws bent.
“I suppose it’s only fair I reward you for your listening skills and nonjudgemental ways.” Rosie’s groan of delight when Lizzy started rubbing her cumbersome belly made her laugh. The small dog shifted on the bed and Elizabeth heard the rustle of the book against the coverlet.
She should be thinking of the diary, and how best to obtain Sheldon’s assistance, without giving away Sinjin’s name or his involvement with the Brethren Guardians.
Perhaps she should put the earl off, tell him that she had misplaced the book and could no longer find it. But she did dearly wish to know who the woman was, and turning down Sheldon’s offer of assistance would make the attempt of discovering the woman futile.
Perhaps Lizzy should have Maggie read it, see if there was any reference to Sinjin’s name, or anything that might give away his identity. She could instruct her to tear out those pages, but then she’d be destroying a treasured family heirloom…. Bloody hell, there was no winning in this mess! Still, tearing out the pages might be the only way, if Sheldon pushed her to show him the book. But, then, she thought, why would he? To him, it was merely an interesting anecdotal piece of history. He shouldn’t insist, but should, in fact, accept her excuse that she could no longer find it. Of course, that meant giving up a set of knowledgeable eyes that might very well have aided her.
The quandary of what to do left Elizabeth irritable and frustrated. How she wished she could read the book herself, those passages she could no longer remember by heart. The diary was very intimate, and she found herself wondering if she was even prepared to share such a thing with Sheldon. He was a scholar, of course, and she was certain he would read the diary as such. But could she? It might make things…strange between them. Might create something that she was not quite ready for. Not yet, anyway. It might, she mused darkly, make her think of Iain Sinclair. It always had in the past. That book had made her want what Sinjin and his mystery lady had shared—and she had wanted it to be with Iain.
Stupid, stupid, stupid…
Too keyed up to rest, she found her thoughts tumbling in a circle. Unable to keep them at bay, she felt like she was racing against the wind, trying to outrun them. But the past would always be there, haunting her.
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