Lydia blinked. And blinked again. “That’s the most ridiculous reasoning I’ve ever heard,” she replied.
“I know,” Adonis acknowledged with a nod. “But what was I to do?”
A bell sounded and the noise level in the theatre quieted as Lydia considered how to respond. “Does she know you’re not insane? Now, I mean?” she whispered, leaning in his direction so her lips nearly touched his ear.
Well aware of how close she was, Adonis couldn’t help but notice how she had allowed her shawl to drop from her shoulders, how her décolletage was on display for his eyes only. How her collarbones were highlighted in the dim lighting.
What was the question?
An actor appeared on the stage, and applause sounded from below.
“You’re doing it again,” Lydia accused, turning to stare at him.
“I assure you, I am not,” he countered. “It’s just...” He closed his eyes, as if he had to break the spell she had over him. “You’re just so damned bewitching,” he whispered. “I want nothing more than to be in your company. All the time. He warned me, you know,” he added as he turned to face the stage. “He tried to make you out to be some sort of siren. But he was not nearly as stern with his warning as he should have been.”
Lydia stared at Adonis for several seconds, realizing he spoke of her late husband. Bewitching? Jasper had never accused her of such a thing.
“I am not a witch,” she whispered with a shake of her head, rather stunned by his words. By their implication.
Adonis turned to face her, his lips mere inches from hers. “Then how do you explain your effect on me, my lady?”
Lydia found she suddenly needed the warmth of the shawl, and brought it up to cover her shoulders. Unable to form a suitable response—how could she answer such a question?—she turned to face the stage, allowing the actors’ words to pull her into the story.
Realizing he had spoiled the mood with his words, Adonis turned his body to face the stage. Instead of paying attention to the play, though, he allowed himself the time to form an apology and was, after a time and despite his best efforts, lost in thought.
Chapter 25
Another Intruder
Later that night
Dismissing her maid almost as soon as she returned from the theatre—Lydia was quite sure she would have help with her gown as soon as Adonis could make it into the house without alerting anyone to his presence—Lydia moved to her vanity. She regarded her image in the looking glass as she pulled off the diamond earbobs and necklace she had worn that night.
Jasper had given them to her on the occasion of their first anniversary. For putting up with me, he had said whilst they dined at the Carleton Hotel. It was the first time she felt like a viscountess, that moment he had draped the necklace around the long column of her neck and attached each of the earbobs in place of the set made of paste. He had ordered champagne that night, claiming he should see to it they had champagne every night. But there was rarely a bottle in the cellar, and Lydia couldn’t remember another occasion at which he drank a glass.
Lydia glanced down at her gown, realizing she had worn the same gown that night as well. The bright sapphire blue watered silk shimmered on its own without any jewels, but the diamonds had provided a glittering finish.
Perhaps that’s what had the men in her life bewitched, she reasoned. Not her so much as what she wore.
No. That couldn’t be it. Adonis had been most apologetic with her during that evening’s intermission. When I accused you of bewitching me, I did not mean it in a manner meant as an accusation so much as an admission that I have developed feelings for you, he had said. Please forgive me. He had said the words before most of the patrons in the theatre stood up to stretch their legs and to visit with others behind their boxes.
They, too, had stood up, but not to leave the box. Instead, he had taken her into his arms and kissed her in the darkest corner of the box. She had allowed it because if he hadn’t been the one to initiate the kiss, she would have. When the bell sounded and it was time to return to their seats, they had instead taken their leave of the theatre, saying not a word to one another.
Lydia allowed the shawl to fall from her arms, draping it over the back of her vanity chair. About to pull the gown from her body, she was suddenly aware of a thump in a nearby room. She stilled her movements, wondering if she was merely hearing her maid—Rachel’s room was on the third story—but when she didn’t hear anything more, she relaxed a bit. Hurrying to her bedchamber door, she checked the knob to be sure the door was unlocked. Adonis would no doubt see to locking it after he arrived.
When another thump and a slight squeaking noise came from farther down the hall from her bedchamber, Lydia stilled her movements. She recognized the squeaking noise. Jasper’s bedchamber door made that noise. Barely felt footfalls vibrated through the carpet beneath her feet.
Adonis wouldn’t come through that bedchamber. Jenkins would be abed by now, as would Rachel. No one from the staff should have been up and about, and certainly not in Jasper’s bedchamber.
Lydia released the breath she’d been holding and took another. Oliver had been in her coach that evening. He had obviously climbed into it after her driver parked it in front of the townhouse.
Or had he been in there from the time it left the mews behind the house?
When the squeaking door clicked into place, Lydia squared her shoulders. Damn him!
Moving back to her vanity, Lydia picked up the candle lamp before palming her gun from beneath the pillow. She slid it into a pocket as she made her way to her dressing room door.
“Oliver? Is that you?” Lydia called out in a hoarse whisper meant to sound light and hopeful. She stopped just inside the dressing room door on the end closest to the master suite, the flame from the lamp she carried barely providing a pool of light around her. The glint of metal in the intruder’s hand suggested he held a weapon.
“Christ, Lydia. You scared me nearly to death!”
Oh, if only I had, Lydia nearly replied. Instead, she moved farther into the bedchamber. “Whatever are you doing here, Oliver?” she asked, making sure her voice could be overheard by Adonis if he had managed to make it to her bedchamber. She was sure he was in the house by now.
Oliver Preston sighed, half tempted to claim he was trying to make his way to her bedchamber by way of Jasper’s. “I don’t suppose you’d believe I was on my way to ravish you,” he said in a voice tinged with a bit of forced humor.
Lydia felt annoyance far beyond any she had felt when in the company of Adonis, but she held her tongue and forced herself to sound reasonable. “I know I made myself quite clear about our arrangement when you agreed to marry another,” she replied curtly. “As well as in the coach earlier tonight. So, since you cannot be here to ravish me, why are you here?”
Oliver let out an audible sigh. “Truth be told, I’m still in search of that item I spoke with you about a few days ago. That item that belonged to your late husband.”
The alarm bells not already sounding in her head started to ring. Loudly. “Well, I do hope your wife doesn’t know you’ve come. It would be horrid if she thought we were still having our... affaire,” Lydia said in a quiet voice she hoped Adonis wouldn’t overhear. Please be here!
The intruder let out a huff as he moved to a tall chest of drawers. “Come now, Lydia. Effie knows nothing, nor will she,” he replied in a low voice. He opened a drawer and pushed a few things around, cursing under his breath.
“Perhaps if I knew exactly what you were looking for, I could help find it,” Lydia suggested, moving to her husband’s wardrobe. The pool of light illuminated the small pistol Oliver had placed atop the chest of drawers. Why the hell did he think he needed a gun?
“Barrymore was supposed to leave me a ring,” Oliver began in explanation. “It was... for a mission. I didn’t think I would ever need it, what with everything that happened last year, but...” He paused a moment, as if he were trying to determine
if he could tell her what he sought. “Now I find I do. I have a mission to complete before I can leave for the Continent.”
Lydia angled her head, rather surprised the man would divulge his reason for being there so easily. “Is that why you were in the coach this evening?”
Oliver gave a shrug, opening another drawer. “I preferred to have your permission, of course,” he replied. “Did he ever tell you about it? About the ring?”
Angling her head to one side, Lydia knew exactly which ring Oliver sought. Why Jasper would want him to have it, though, was beyond her reasoning just then. Her husband rather liked the ring, even if he didn’t wear it very often. “Is it like a signet ring?” Lydia asked as she changed her direction and headed to her Jasper’s jewelry box.
“Something like that,” Oliver replied, turning his attention to another drawer.
“Does it have a gemstone on top?”
Oliver sighed. “I just know it’s supposed to have a hinged compartment. Really, Lydia, I can do this myself,” he said with some impatience.
“Like this?” Lydia replied, ignoring his growing impatience. She pulled Jasper’s favorite ring from his jewel box, her thumbnail popping open the hinged top that held what appeared to be a diamond but was really only paste. The compartment beneath, a tiny space that could hold several small gemstones or a tiny folded paper, was now apparently empty but for one tiny gemstone. She quickly closed it, palming most of what had been inside. “He used to hide sapphires in it when he was on smuggling missions,” she murmured as she held it out to Oliver. “Used them as currency.”
The man’s eyes widened as he moved to take it from her. He frowned as he studied the ring. “How does it work?”
Lydia pointed to the sparkling paste. “It’s set on a hinged box. Just give it a tug with your fingernail, and it should pop open. Be careful, though...”
Too late.
Oliver had managed to open the lid, but he wasn’t expecting anything to fall out of it. “What was that?” he wondered, his eyes darting about the Aubusson carpet near his boots.
Lydia sighed loudly. “Oh, probably just a diamond or perhaps a sapphire,” Lydia said as she reached for the lamp. She slowly lowered it towards the floor, waving it about in attempt to illuminate whatever had fallen out. Once Oliver was down on one knee in his search for the gemstone, she used her own knee to kick him hard, just under his chin, so his head was suddenly forced up and backwards. The sound of teeth breaking preceded the man’s tumble to the floor.
“Well, that was a bit more effective than what I planned to do to the bounder,” Adonis said from where he stood in the doorway to the dressing room. He moved to where Oliver’s gun rested on the chest of drawers and stuffed it into a pocket.
Lydia gave him a quelling glance before opening her hand over the top of the chest of drawers to allow several gemstones to spill onto it. Then she pulled the drapery tieback from its hook next to the bedchamber’s only window. “Here,” she said as she held it out. “You can tie up his hands with this.”
Adonis arched an eyebrow as he took the tasseled tieback from her. “Makes me wonder if you ever did this to Commander Barrymore,” he murmured as he set about securing Oliver’s hands behind his back. Lydia used the other tieback around the base of the intruder’s boots, rather glad to see his boots were of a type that would require the help of a valet to remove.
“I was rarely in this room,” she replied, suddenly wishing she had spent more time in it. More time in Jasper’s bed. More time with Jasper. Perhaps if she had, she would have found herself with child. Would have born him an heir to carry on the Barrymore viscountcy. Would have a child to love and cherish.
How odd to think of babies at a time like this!
Aware his words weren’t taken in the lighthearted manner they were meant, Adonis stilled his movements and regarded her for a moment. “I apologize. My remark was... rude,” he whispered.
Lydia regarded him for a moment, rather surprised at his apology. “You’re forgiven, of course. I rather doubt my late husband ever considered tying me to the bed. I have reason to believe he didn’t think it appropriate to bed a wife the way he would his mistress.”
Adonis’ head jerked up. He stared at Lydia for a moment. “But the commander didn’t have a mistress,” he murmured with a shake of his head.
Lydia blinked, rather stunned to hear the claim, and then even more stunned Adonis would know anything quite that personal about Jasper. “You seem very sure.”
Adonis suddenly stilled himself, his body resting on the heels of his boots as he regarded her. “I am.” His eyes seemed to glaze over, but before they could, Lydia reached out and grabbed his arm.
“Don’t you dare,” she hissed. “Don’t you dare go to wherever it is you go when you’re lost in thought,” she warned, rising to her feet as the sudden anger threatened to have her yelling at him.
The knight stood up slowly, his head shaking slightly. “I am here, my lady,” he said in a quiet voice. “I’m not going anywhere,” he added as he moved to take her into his arms.
He kissed her then, a soft kiss that took her by surprise in how long he held it, in how gentle his pillowed lips pressed against hers, in how he barely pulled away to finally rest his forehead against hers. Their kisses at the theatre had been nothing like it. There, they had been forceful, possessive, as if he intended to brand her lips so that no one else could claim them.
“You had better not leave me given there’s a rather frightening intruder in here,” she murmured, her body finally relaxing against the front of his.
Adonis dared a glance at the unconscious man. “I think it’s best we send for a Bow Street Runner,” he commented. “He should be transported for what he’s done, but I rather think Chamberlain will want him in Newgate.”
Lydia’s eyes widened. “But, didn’t he work for Chamberlain?” she whispered.
“Hardly. More like the French. At least, that’s what Chamberlain always thought.”
One hand going to her mouth, Lydia stared at Adonis even as she remembered Chamberlain’s warning about the ring. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “He... he was a friend of Jasper, or so he claimed—”
“He was. To many,” Adonis affirmed.
Lydia moved the hand to her middle, as if she might be sick. “I allowed him to... he... I shared my bed—”
“As you were supposed to,” Adonis whispered, struggling to keep his sudden jealousy in check. The gun was in his pocket. He could easily shoot the man and claim he did so to protect Lydia.
Gasping, Lydia stepped away from the knight. “What are you saying?”
Realizing she was unaware of the roll she had played in trapping Oliver Preston, Adonis gave a shrug. “Chamberlain knew Preston was a spy for someone besides the Crown,” he murmured. “We all had parts to play to see to it he was caught in the act. Even Jasper knew his friend was really his enemy.”
Angry tears pricked the corners of Lydia’s eyes. “Jasper knew? Why... why wasn’t I told?”
Adonis moved to take her into his arms again, but Lydia backed away. “Don’t touch me,” she said through a clenched jaw.
Lowering his head, Adonis gave her a moment before saying, “Would you have been able to have an affaire with the man if you knew?”
“Of course not!” she replied, her hands clenched into fists, one of which brushed against the evidence of her gun in her pocket. She had half a mind to use it to shoot Oliver, her anger was so palpable. She closed her eyes then, realizing to what she had just admitted. Even if she had known it was her job to bed Oliver, she wouldn’t have been able to carry out the assignment. “Dammit,” she whispered as her arms wrapped around her middle.
“Your secret is safe with me,” Adonis whispered as he finally drew her back into his arms.
Although she wanted nothing more than to be held, to have a good cry and get it over with, Lydia stiffened. “I want him out of here. Out of my life,” she whispered hoarsely. When she stilled h
erself to listen intently, Adonis did the same.
Adonis gave up his hold on her and stepped back. “Someone’s coming,” he whispered.
Lydia nodded and moved to the door. “Jenkins, I think,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “His quarters are directly above.”
Moving into the dressing room, Adonis hid while Lydia opened the door and stepped aside.
“I’ve discovered the thief who broke the lock on the back door,” she said in preamble, hoping Jenkins wouldn’t be too stunned to find her in Jasper’s bedchamber.
“Are you all right, my lady?” the butler asked as he waved his candle lamp in front of his body.
“Startled is all. I’m quite sure I’ll need some brandy later, but for now, I need a footman to fetch a watchman or a constable and another to go to Bow Street.”
Jenkins peered down at the trussed up man on the floor and then straightened suddenly. “Why, that’s Mr. Preston, my lady.”
“Yes, it is,” Lydia admitted. “It seems he was after one of Jasper’s rings,” she said as her candle lamp illuminated the ring on the carpet. “I kicked him in the chin,” she added, knowing Jenkins would wonder as to how the man ended up on the floor. She waved the lamp in a wider arc, determined to find whatever had remained in the ring when she dumped most of its contents into her hand.
The single sapphire she had left inside the ring’s compartment lay next to a tiny piece of paper. She plucked the paper from where it rested and stuffed it into her pocket.
“I’ll send both footmen right away, my lady,” Jenkins said as he hurried to the door.
“I’ll need a note delivered to Fitzsimmons House,” she called out, “But it will take me some time to write it.” Within minutes, the front door opened and shut, and Lydia watched the footmen make their way down the gas-lit street from where she stood in front of the bedchamber’s only window.
Rachel, her eyes wide with fright, appeared in the open door. “Is your ladyship well?” she asked carefully.
The Enigma of a Widow Page 17