The leather of his boots made a soft squeaking sound as he tapped his right foot against his left. As if realising the sound would carry, he stopped. ‘Come and sit with me, Miss Forrester. I think you and I need to have a chat.’ He patted the bed beside him and brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes.
‘We can converse from our various vantage points. I do not need to sit beside you to hear you.’
He arched a dark brow. ‘You’re afraid you might not be able to resist me while I sit beside you...in your bed.’
Those smooth lips of his curled into another smile, showing his straight white teeth. His arrogance marred his character, but physically she couldn’t find one thing wrong with him.
‘I know you’re too mulish to admit the truth,’ he continued. ‘So I will state the obvious. You feel safer over there.’
The insolent clod! ‘Not every woman in London finds you irresistible.’
‘Irresistible?’ he said with a chuckle. ‘I rather like that word. You look quite fetching in that,’ he continued, ‘although I will admit I am partial to you in trews.’
‘Flattery does not work on me and I can resist you.’ She would teach him that lesson and took a step towards the bed to prove it.
‘Bring the wine,’ he said, gesturing to her glass. ‘With the night we have had, both of us need it.’
He was correct about that. She picked up the glass and strolled to the bed, sitting beside him once he adjusted two pillows for her against the headboard. She stretched her legs out and mimicked his pose, then realised she had given him a perfect view of her bare feet next to his leather-encased ones. Perhaps he wouldn’t notice.
He held out his hand for the wine and took a fortifying sip before handing it back to her. He had noticed.
‘One of the things I admire about you, Miss Forrester,’ he said, gazing at her legs, ‘is your forthright nature.’ He looked directly into her eyes. ‘It’s very rare, in my opinion, to find a woman willing to speak her mind as freely as you seem to do.’
If she was at all honest, she would admit that sitting this close to him on her bed was leaving her rather warm and it had nothing to do with the temperature in the room. She wasn’t as forthright as he thought.
‘That being said,’ he continued, unaware how much she liked his cinnamon-and-leather scent, ‘I think we both would agree that finding ourselves together tonight was no coincidence. We were both in that church for a reason.’
She took a sip of wine. ‘It’s probably a similar reason.’
‘I’d venture to say it was for the exact same reason. You just happened to get there before me and I’d wager my finest horse your trip into the church was more successful than mine.’
‘And I’d wager my favourite pair of slippers that my evening was just as successful as your jaunt in the park.’
‘There is that sense of honesty I admire so. That’s why I’m here. It appears we are both after the same thing, however, we each possess a half of the whole.’
She narrowed her gaze on him. Apparently he wasn’t able to pick the lock to the box after all, or he would not be in her room. ‘And you think I should relinquish my half to you. I don’t think so.’
A sly smile curved those lips. ‘I wouldn’t dream of demanding you give me what you have acquired in a most impressive fashion. Believe me when I say, I have the upmost respect for you. You were brave enough to break into the Everills’ town house the night I found you on the roof.’
As she began to offer an excuse, he held up his hand.
‘I know now that is why you were up there, so there is no sense in denying it. I came to discuss our mutual interest.’
‘Rooftops?’
‘Diamonds. Or shall I say one diamond in particular. Let’s drop the pretence. It’s obvious we both want it.’
She could deny knowing anything about the diamond, or she could find out what he knew and maybe find a way to steal the diamond from him. Hartwick was so carefree. How difficult could that be? ‘Are you here to boast about what you have acquired?’ she asked, tilting her head.
‘I never boast.’
‘That is all you do,’ she said, letting out a wry laugh.
‘That is not true... Well, I don’t boast that much. I believe I have something you need.’
‘And if I agree you do, what then?’
‘I only ask to see what you found.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m a curious person by nature. Surely you are curious to see what I have.’
‘And if I show it to you, will you show me yours?’
A roguish smile changed his rather serious expression. ‘I will show you anything you are curious about. You simply have to ask.’
‘Rake.’
‘Temptress.’
‘Flattercap.’
He smiled in amusement before he grew serious once more. ‘So will you show it to me?’
She had nothing to lose and now she would be able to identify the stone in his possession when she went to filch it. ‘You first.’
He reached into his pocket and withdrew a linen packet tied with a thin black ribbon no bigger than his palm—a packet that looked exactly like hers. This was no box.
‘Why the quizzical expression?’ he asked.
‘That is what you found at the bridge?’
‘It is. Do not look at me so. I have no reason to lie. Show me what you found in the church?’
She slid off the bed and went to her dressing table to retrieve the key that she had rewrapped in the linen. He caught the identical packet easily with one hand when she tossed it to him. When he opened it, his eyes went wide.
‘I do not understand,’ he said, looking up at her. ‘You found a key?’
She nodded, chewing her lip. ‘What does your packet contain?’
He motioned for her to take it from his hand. It hadn’t given her a complete shock when she opened it since the packets were virtually identical.
‘How is it possible we both found a key?’ she mused.
He shrugged, still staring at the key in his palm with a wrinkled brow. ‘There was nothing else in the church?’
‘No, it was the only thing inside the compartment under the floorboard. I checked. Are they the same?’ she asked, handing him back his key.
He covered one with the other and shook his head. ‘No, there is a slight variation. See. They open two different locks.’
‘I don’t understand. I had assumed you found a box,’ she said.
‘And I thought you did, as well.’
How was it possible that the only two clues led to two keys? She began to pace. ‘This is nonsensical. How did you know how to find your key?’
‘Lady Everill’s bracelet.’ He pulled it out and held it up so it dangled from his long fingers. The candlelight reflected off the gold. ‘I might have borrowed it from the jeweller who was asked to fix it. How did you know to go to St James’s Park and search the church?’
‘The bracelet.’
‘But how? I saw you return it to Lady Everill after the catch had broken during the Dowager’s soirée.’
Once more she went inside the drawer of her dressing table and this time removed the folded drawing of the bracelet. She held it up for him to see. ‘That evening I had sufficient time alone with the bracelet before I returned it to Lady Everill. I’ve been using this drawing to find the clues like a treasure map. There must be something I missed when I drew it. Surely there is another clue to the diamond’s whereabouts.’
He tossed his legs over and sat at the edge of her bed, extending the bracelet out to her. ‘Have a look. Although I must say I’ve been over it numerous times to see if there’s anything I’ve missed and found nothing.’
She studied the bracelet and once more searched for any hidden compartments. She also found nothing. �
��I don’t understand. I was told this bracelet would lead me to the diamond.’
‘By whom?’
She was not about to share that information with Lord Hartwick. ‘Never you mind. Who told you about the bracelet?’
‘In the words of an American I’m acquainted with, never you mind. You can keep your secrets and I’ll keep mine.’
That suited her just fine. She would never let him know what her brother had done. Not only would it destroy her parents to know, but Hartwick was friends with members of Britain’s political circle. What would happen if they found out the son of the American Minister was a traitor? How would that impact her father’s position here? What if news spread to Washington?
His piercing blue eyes narrowed on her. ‘I believe you enjoy a good competition just as much as I do, Miss Forrester. What if we lay our cards on the table and make a wager? It’s apparent both keys are important. What say you to agreeing that whoever finds the diamond first wins both keys. The loser will forfeit their key to the winner.’ He tilted his head to the side and a slow smile spread across his lips. ‘And what if we make this even more interesting by exchanging the information we already know about the diamond? You’re a smart woman. I’m a smart man. Let’s match wits.’
‘You’re a man. You possess the freedom to travel anywhere, at any time. You could leave here tonight and fetch the diamond, even if I might be the one who determines where it is before you. That hardly seems fair.’
It was as if he was seeing her on equal ground through his thick dark lashes. ‘Forgive me. That hadn’t occurred to me.’ He tossed a lock of hair out of his eyes. ‘What if we agree we cannot begin searching for the diamond until two o’clock tomorrow morning? That would allow you to leave this house under the cover of darkness as you did tonight.’
‘I barely know you and I certainly don’t trust you.’
‘You have my word as a gentleman. I will tell you all I know and I will wait to search for it.’
While she would never call Hartwick a gentleman in the strict use of the term, he did surround himself with honourable men. And he hadn’t managed to get himself barred from society. If anything, he was a man who seemed to be invited everywhere—except the households who had young, eligible daughters.
He stuck his hand out towards her. ‘Gentlemen shake hands when they reach an agreement,’ he explained needlessly.
She eyed it sceptically, knowing that hand had done more than shake hands with gentlemen. There were times she had seen that hand move seductively along a woman’s back as they walked off a dance floor or strolled into a darkened garden. Not that she had paid that much attention to the Earl of Hartwick’s actions this past year.
He glanced pointedly down at his hand.
‘I am not a gentleman,’ she replied, watching him step closer to her.
‘But you do look fetching in trews.’
The playful tone to his voice was what she had become accustomed to. It was somehow comforting while she was fighting the fear of losing the diamond to him. If she knew that he had the stone, she might be able to find a way to steal it from him. She took his hand and gave it a firm shake.
A small smile curved his lips. He tried to kiss her hand, but she pulled it out of his warm grasp.
‘Why don’t you tell me what you know first?’ she said, taking a seat at her dressing table.
He sat back on the edge of her bed and laughed softly. ‘Do you always need to set the terms or is that something you just do with me?’
It was something he brought out in her. Whenever he was about, she felt this urge to prove to him she wasn’t like the other women of his acquaintance. She was different. She was smarter and she liked to remind him she could see through his false pretences. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘I doubt that. I’m wondering if I can trust you, Miss Forrester. I fear I shall reveal all my secrets and you will hold back some of yours, giving you the advantage. I’m wondering if this agreement is indeed wise. Perhaps you should go first. What do you know about this diamond that has you dressing in men’s clothing and breaking into buildings?’
She didn’t know much. If she said so after he revealed what he knew, he probably wouldn’t believe her. That notion wasn’t sitting well with her. She shouldn’t care what he thought. ‘I honestly don’t have much to tell. I know it’s a valuable diamond of substantial size that is yellow. That is it.’
His brow furrowed and he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. ‘That is all? Aren’t you aware of its history? Don’t you know what makes this diamond so special?’
Slowly she shook her head, hating that he apparently knew more about the diamond than she did. ‘What do you know?’
Those appraising eyes studied her before an arrogant smile turned his lips. ‘The diamond is known as the Sancy and it’s part of the missing French crown jewels. The bracelet was created by a man named Guillot, who is believed to have stolen the necklace the diamond was set in during the French Revolution. He had the bracelet designed in England as a treasure map of sorts for himself and his partner so they would be able to locate the stone after he hid it. Guillot was found murdered, and his landlord took his possessions and sold them to pay his debts. The bracelet was lost for years until it resurfaced recently and found its way to Rundell & Bridge, where it was sold to Lord Everill.’
She leaned forward. ‘What of Guillot’s partner?’
‘His partner returned to France and was arrested on a charge of robbery. Among his papers, French officials found a letter from Guillot with details about the bracelet. You know none of this?’
She shook her head.
‘And yet you knew this bracelet would lead you to a very valuable diamond. How?’
‘I was told so.’
‘By whom?’
If she knew that, she might not need to find the diamond in the first place. She could break into their residence and retrieve the letter condemning her brother as a traitor. ‘I’d rather not say.’
He studied her intently. ‘There are easier ways to pay for footwear.’
‘I will remember that the next time I am tempted to purchase a pair.’
He grinned an infectious smile and held out his hand for the bracelet. She dropped it into his open palm.
‘All I know is that this bracelet is the only clue to the stone,’ she said, crossing her arms. ‘We have two keys and nothing else. So where is the stone?’
He shook his head. ‘Obviously we are missing something, but I cannot begin to fathom what.’
The sound of footsteps coming down the hallway broke the silence, and for the first time Sarah noticed streaks of sunlight painting the sky pink. ‘Give me my key, please. Neither of us is any closer to finding the diamond than we were at the beginning of this discussion.’
He stood so they were toe to toe and looked into her eyes as if he hadn’t heard the footsteps or noticed the changing of the sky—as if they had all the time in the world to stand there facing one another, alone in her room. He ran his hand down her arm until he came to her hand. He raised it to his lips and placed a kiss on her palm before sliding the key into it. The hairs on her arm stood up.
‘Thank you for sharing what you know with me.’
The warmth from his lips still danced around her hand, making it tingle. It took her a minute to realise he had said something.
He leaned down and his breath created warm puffs of air in the hollow of her ear. ‘You are an impressive woman, Miss Forrester.’
There was a slow touch of his lips against the shell of her ear, the heat of which spread throughout her body. Before she was able to respond, he sauntered past her to the door to her balcony. ‘If you find you need to reach me because you found the diamond, send word. I live at Albany on Piccadilly.’
She knew of the building ho
using London’s most elite bachelors and she had already known it was his residence. Katrina must have mentioned it at one time. Why she chose to remember that small detail about him was surprising. And why a rake like Hartwick would live in a building where women were not allowed to cross the threshold was even more perplexing.
He turned to her before climbing over the railing. ‘Or better yet, will you be at the Skeffingtons’ ball tomorrow?’
‘Yes, I’ll be there.’
‘We should reconvene then to see if one of us has determined where the diamond is located. Perhaps one of us will claim victory tomorrow.’
The early-morning air was cool as he made his way smoothly down the trellis. It was a good thing for him he had a lean, athletic build. If he were a large man, the wooden structure might not have supported him. When he reached the bottom, he looked up at her and tipped his head to bid her farewell. Then he disappeared in the shadows of the back garden and she didn’t see him again until he managed to hoist himself onto the stone wall and slide over it into the mews behind her house. Leaning against the door frame, she should have been thinking about all the information he had given her. Instead she was thinking of the feel of his mouth on her palm and wondering what it would have felt like if he had kissed her.
Chapter Nine
Hart walked along the mews on his way home and tipped his hat at the iceman driving his cart along the cobblestones. He had almost kissed her! He was always impulsive. He always did what he wanted. And tonight he had wanted to kiss Sarah Forrester—desperately. But he had no notion if she would welcome his advance or not. And then to what end?
From the moment she sat beside him on her bed, looking tempting in her nightclothes, he had wanted to take her and not stop until they were both spent. And then, when they were too exhausted to move, he’d fall asleep holding her in his arms.
Hart rubbed his eyes. It must be later than he thought. He never slept with anyone. One of the advantages of bedding married women was that they never asked him to stay till morning and he preferred it that way. It was much too intimate. And any woman who tried to sneak into his rooms with the idea of sex and sleeping with him would not be successful getting past the porters that manned the door at Albany. A number of London ladies had found that out. Living in a residence that did not allow women on the premises had been a brilliant move on his part.
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