by Mia Marlowe
Roderick mumbled something noncommittal and they fell back into awkward silence. He’d never been good at keeping things from her. If he was involved in some French psychic espionage, surely it would tumble out of him. Unless…
What if he and his family were being coerced into this business with the Infinitum? That rang more true to her than the idea that the Bellefontes might actually want to harm the Prince Regent. For the sake of their friendship, for the memory of the boy he’d been, she owed it to Roderick to help him if he was in trouble.
“Is something vexing you, Roddy?”
He met her gaze then and his look was one of indefinable sadness. “Oh, Cassie, I’ve made a horrible mistake.”
Her heart jumped. Did that mean he was involved with the Infinitum plot as the duke believed? “Why do you say that?”
He blinked hard and then pasted a patently false smile on his face. “I don’t know. It just seems as if everything is happening so quickly, but Lady Sylvia is a wonderful girl. Of course she is,” he said as if trying to convince himself. “I didn’t mean… Oh, hang it all, I’ve no cause to be such a wet noodle. Say, what would you say to a trip to the country for old time’s sake?”
Cassie’s shoulders relaxed. So he wasn’t worried about any psychic relic. But was he about to try to recruit her as his mistress again? “Roddy, I don’t think…”
“Good. Don’t think about it. Just say yes. I’m giving a little masquerade to celebrate the demise of my bachelorhood and all my friends are invited.” He smiled down at her looking so familiar and so dear, her chest constricted smartly. “You are still my friend, aren’t you, Cassie?”
“Of course.”
“We’re taking over the old Dower House on the home place a sennight hence. Say you’ll come.”
“I suppose it would give me an opportunity to see my parents,” she said hesitantly. After she’d taken up residence at Camden House, her father and mother had let their leased town house go and had returned to their beloved place in the country. Because her father’s land butted up against the Bellefonte country seat, she could stay with her family and still be close enough to put in an appearance at the masquerade.
“I know your parents would love to see you. In her letters, my mother says they can talk of nothing but you and what a dazzling Season you’ve had. You must have had half a dozen offers by now.”
She hadn’t, but it didn’t trouble her. She’d been having too much fun being young and in demand. While she had danced and flirted with countless gentlemen, Garret’s ubiquitous presence had kept serious suitors at bay. Besides, Vesta had told her marriage was not in a fire mage’s best interests.
Cassie still wasn’t sure about that. Even more than the security of marriage, she craved the love she’d hoped to find in one. Surely a psychic gift didn’t mean she need give up all her girlish dreams.
Cassandra smiled enigmatically up at him. If Roderick resented the offers he suspected she’d received, so much the better.
“I suppose you’re all but promised to that Garret Sterling chap you’ve been seen with so much of late. Can’t say that I blame you, what with his prospects.”
She shot him a puzzled frown. “What do you mean?”
“Come now, never say you didn’t know. Sterling is heir apparent to the Earl of Stanstead. The old fellow is his uncle, though I warn you not to plan on becoming a countess any time soon. By all accounts, the hoary septuagenarian is the hale and hearty sort. Likely to outlive us all.”
Garret had never mentioned his expectations. Cassandra had credited his dark good looks with the way feminine eyes followed him wherever he went. As a future earl, Garret was quite the “eligible parti.”
“You can even bring Sterling to the masquerade, if you must,” Roderick said, clearly miffed that she hadn’t jumped on his invitation. The waltz was drawing to a close, so he led her through an underarm turn. “I’ll send a note to remind you. Until then.” He finished the dance with a stylized brush of his lips on her knuckles. “Don’t disappoint me, Cassie.”
For a moment, the candles in the room burned a little bit hotter.
Why does he not realize how he disappoints me?
Worse than that, he hadn’t confided in her. The old Roddy would have. If he was mixed up with this Infinitum business, he’d have confessed it to her. Instead, he’d babbled on about nothing of import, gossiping about Garret and plans for his silly masquerade.
Cassandra checked her dance card and, to her relief, she didn’t have an assigned partner for the next piece. It was a mazurka, which always left her with a slight headache.
Since Garret wasn’t there to ply her with punch, she made her own way around the long rectangular room to where the refreshments were laid out on a sideboard. Other partygoers were polite, but she wasn’t greeted with the enthusiasm she’d grown to expect. Without Garret there to bolster her image with his directed thoughts, she was just another debutante, the second daughter of a minor baronet. Her wardrobe might be smashing, but she herself was evidently of little note.
Cassandra sipped her punch, watching Lord and Lady Waldgren make cakes of themselves with the trippingly fast Polish dance. Cassie was unaware that a secret doorway was opening behind her until someone grabbed her around the waist and yanked her back into the dark recess behind the wall.
A hand clamped over her mouth to stifle her cry.
“Hush, it’s only me.” Garret’s voice buzzed in her ear.
She turned in his arms, the small space not allowing her to put any distance between them. “What do you mean by snatching me like that?” she whispered furiously.
“It seemed the quickest way to get you back here with me. There is a system of secret passages built into all the houses on this particular street. I discovered an entrance into the labyrinth in Lord Bellefonte’s library. We can observe without anyone being the wiser. Look,” he said, jerking his head toward a well-placed peephole. “Everyone is still laughing over Lord and Lady Waldgren’s antics. No one missed you at all.”
“No, no one has,” she said sadly. “I guess I’m really not the belle of every ball without you putting outrageous ideas about me into everyone’s heads.”
“I never said they were outrageous ideas. I merely suggested to others that you are delightful, fresh, and unspoiled and that you are amusing and worth getting to know.”
“How difficult that must have been for you,” she said testily.
He frowned down at her. “I Sent those things because I believe every word of them. I wish you could receive the things I think about you. Then you’d know.”
“I’d know what?”
His frown disappeared. “You’d know I think you’re beautiful as a starry night,” he said softly. “And as full of glory as those distant fires.”
His words wound themselves around her heart and made the sparks that flashed inside her settle into something warm and comforting. She was more to him than an assignment. He did feel tenderness for her. He must. It wasn’t as if he was trying to get into her bed. He was already there. No man said such lovely things to a woman for no reason, unless he cared for her.
Garret held her close enough for her to feel his heartbeat, thundering against her breastbone. She tipped her chin and for the first time since they’d met at Almack’s, he bent and covered her mouth with his.
Vesta had warned against it, but in a world where nothing else seemed real, this kiss felt right.
The music on the other side of the wall faded. The rumble of myriad conversations became of no more import than the chatter of a gaggle of geese. The Order of the M.U.S.E., her bewildering abilities, their assignment to discover the location of the mysterious Infinitum didn’t signify in the slightest.
The only truth in the world was Garret Sterling’s mouth on hers.
…
Her lips were alternately sweet, then demanding, then fierce. Kissing Cassandra was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He’d heard tales of succubi, demonic dream
women who seduced men as they slept, but he doubted even such supernatural creatures would have this devastating an effect on him. He couldn’t get enough of her.
And not just her delectable body. Garret was coming to need her in other ways, just as badly.
This was not like him at all.
He had always thought women were like horses. Yes, there were a few outstanding examples of horseflesh, but without fail, they all served the same purpose—traveling from here to there. For all intents, women were also interchangeable.
But not Cassie.
There was no one like her. He lived to serve her with his mouth, hands, and body. He ached to bury himself in her, to lose himself in her softness. He couldn’t help spreading thoughts about her into the minds of others because she’d so captured his own.
Garret wondered if, in addition to being a fire mage, she was some kind of enchantress. He certainly felt spelled by her.
Of course, it wouldn’t do to let her know. He couldn’t let himself want her lest she start invading his deadly dreams. But in truth, he needed her with the same desperation that he needed his next breath.
Finally, she broke off the kiss. He didn’t have the willpower to do it. If she hadn’t pulled away from him, he wondered if he’d let himself starve to death rather than stop kissing this woman. No wonder Vesta had cautioned him against kissing her lips.
She was a sickness. Worse than opium. And he couldn’t summon the will to fight himself free of her.
Cassandra pressed her forehead to his chest, breathing as hard as he. At least the kiss had affected her, as well.
“I think we’d better not do that again or we won’t accomplish anything,” she said.
On the contrary, Garret’s mind was already full of what they could accomplish even in the restricted space of the secret corridor between the walls. But he couldn’t give in to those urges. Not if he hoped to keep Cassie out of his dreams.
“You’re right,” he said with reluctance. “I suppose the servants must use these passages.”
“Judging from the cobwebs, not lately.”
“All the better for us. We can roam unmolested. Let’s see where this will take us. Do you know where some of the more private parts of the house are located?”
“Lord Bellefonte’s study is on this level. I didn’t notice him in the ballroom. We might see if he’s there.” She closed her eyes as if tracing a map of the town house she carried in her head. “Southwest corner. That way.”
“I’ll take the lead,” he said, easing around her. “I doubt that lovely ostrich plume on your headgear will be improved by a festoon of cobwebs.”
Chapter Nine
All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
All are but ministers of Love,
And feed his sacred flame.
—Samuel Taylor Coleridge, from “Love”
As Cassandra and Garret drew near Lord Bellefonte’s study, she put a hand on his shoulder to halt his progress.
“We must be quiet, since we’ve left the music behind,” she whispered. “If we can hear what transpires on the other side of the wall, it stands to reason that we might be heard in here as well.”
Garret nodded and slowed his pace, careful to creep along so that no footfalls warned of their presence. A few shafts of light shot through the walls, betraying the presence of tiny peepholes. On the other side, they were cunningly disguised as part of the wallpaper pattern. At least, that’s what Garret had discovered in the library. After battling all the cobwebs, he assumed the residents of Bellefonte House had forgotten about the existence of the secret passages. Or perhaps they’d never known of them, since many of the ton leased their town residence for the Season. After all, one could never be sure a particular neighborhood would continue to remain high toned from one year to the next.
Cassandra and Garret chose peepholes at appropriate heights and peered into the room beyond.
Lord Bellefonte was seated at his desk. A small crate stuffed with straw to protect a fragile cargo had been set to one side and the viscount was peering down at an object encased in a glass box. A smile tugged at his lips, but it quickly disappeared when the door to his study flew open and his son blustered in.
“Father, in case you haven’t noticed,” Roderick said, hands on his hips, “we are hosting a goodly number of people this evening. It’s insulting enough that you’ve disappeared to do God knows what, but to call me away from our guests smacks of gross disrespect. Lady Sylvia’s father is here and I assure you, the earl is not taking your lack of attention well. Bad form, sir.”
“You won’t think so once you see what I have here. It’s far more important than upsetting an earl.”
Cassie was surprised that Lord Bellefonte would tolerate such a tongue-lashing from his son, but he’d always been a mild-mannered, genial sort. It was another reason she had trouble imagining him involved in a plot against the Crown.
“I see you’ve received a new gewgaw for your collection of oddities.” Roderick settled into the chair across from his father. “What did your sea captain bring you this time?”
The viscount eased the glass box a little closer to the center of his desk, but not so close that it was out of his reach. “This is no gewgaw. It’s a genuine Egyptian relic called an Infinitum.”
Cassie changed to another peephole so she could get a better look at it. The object glinted with gold, so she could well believe it was precious, even if it didn’t have any psychic properties.
But what does it do?
Roddy reached over as if to lift it from its glass case but his father pulled it back to his side of the desk.
“Looks like a bleeding pocket watch,” Roderick said. “How much did Captain Habib take you for this time?”
“I signed over all my unentailed property in exchange for it.”
“You what? The mill, the counting house, your part ownership in Habib’s ship? All of it?” Roderick shot to his feet. Granted, he had no legal right to the Bellefonte estate’s unentailed holdings. They were his father’s to dispose of as he pleased. But as his father’s sole heir, Roderick had every reason to expect they’d be his one day.
Cassie couldn’t blame him for being angry.
“Wait till you see what it does. Then you’ll wonder that I acquired it so cheaply.” Lord Bellefonte removed the Infinitum from its case and turned the small stem. From her vantage point, Cassie could see that there was only one hand on the face of the object.
“The demmed thing can’t even tell time. Where’s the minute hand?” Roddy stood and turned away from his father in disgust.
“Utterly unnecessary. You see, though it may resemble one, it’s not a pocket watch. According to the medieval scroll from which I first learned of its existence, the Infinitum extends the life span of the owner indefinitely, provided they keep it wound.” The viscount ran a fingertip around its dial face. “By winding it, as I just did, I added another year to my life. Only think, son, if a man kept it wound, he might live forever.”
Roderick was turned away from his father. It was a good thing the viscount couldn’t see the expression of loathing that crossed his son’s face; otherwise he might not be so sure about the artifact extending his life span. Clearly, the viscount had not considered the effects of his immortality on Roderick. If Lord Bellefonte never died, his son Roderick would never inherit his title, never come into his own, never control his own destiny.
However, the knowledge was etched in hard lines on his son’s features.
“Why are you showing me this?” The knuckles on Roddy’s hands went white.
“Because I worry about keeping it here in Town. With all the draw-latches plaguing London with burglaries, I fear someone will learn of its existence and relieve us of it. This is the greatest treasure ever to fall into the hands of the Bellefontes.” Roderick’s father put the Infinitum back into its glass case with all the tenderness of a mother cosseting her firstborn i
nto its crib. Then he stowed the fragile case in the small crate, covered it with straw, and finally tied the lid down with leather straps. “I have to remain in Town while the House of Lords is in session, but I want you to take this to the country where it will be safe.”
“You won’t need to wind it every day?”
Lord Bellefonte beamed at his son and shook his head. “Not every day. Since winding it grants me another year, it won’t need to be wound again for twelve months. Put it on a watch fob and wear it on your person. Never take it off, but be careful with it.”
It occurred to Cassandra that the Infinitum might not split hairs quite so finely as the viscount did. Whatever power this thing had, it probably directed its benefits toward its bearer, not its owner.
“There is enough virtue in the Infinitum for us to share, son. With preternaturally long life, think of all the good we can do.” Lord Bellefonte templed his fingers before him in gleeful contemplation. “Why, with the Infinitum, I’ll outlive all my enemies in the House of Lords.”
Roddy was suddenly all smiles. “Of course, I’ll take care of it, sir. I’ll leave tomorrow. I was planning to do so in any case. How did you ever discover the existence of such a thing?”
“It was no accident. If you applied yourself to scholarship as much as you do to gaming and horseflesh, you’d have seen mention of the Infinitum in all the pamphlets about the wonders being unearthed in Egypt these days. Since I discovered an old manuscript that described its unique properties, I’ve been chasing this particular item through bazaar sales and archaeological digs for the better part of five years. I’ve had Captain Habib on the lookout for it.” Lord Bellefonte clapped his hands together with a ringing smack. “Rejoice with me, son. We have found what Ponce de Leon sought.”
“The Fountain of Youth?”
“Well, perhaps not that. I rather doubt that I’ll shed these gray hairs, but even to arrest the time thief at this late date is beyond price. You, however, can rejoice in the strength of your youth for the next millennia. If I’d had fifty mills or interest in a hundred ships, I’d have signed over all of them for it.”