by Amelia Grey
“No doubt she regaled you with many stories about the pompous man. She worshiped him and considered him the grand master of teaching a man how to be a gentleman.”
“When I was with her, there was no doubt she was fond of Lord Chesterfield. She quoted him often. It was clear she missed him after his death.”
“You don’t know the half of it, Duchess,” he said on a whispery breath.
“It is because of her that I am so familiar with Lord Chesterfield’s letters to his son.”
Lord Raceworth’s expression turned quizzical. “You read them?”
She nodded. “Most of them, I believe. Though my thoughts are that if his son had still been living when they were first published, the poor man would be horrified to know that everything his father had written to him all those many years was available for anyone to read.”
The marquis folded his arms across his chest and appeared to be studying her once again. “I agree concerning the son, but I think Lord Chesterfield would be pleased to know he lives beyond the grave through his egotistical, posturing letters to his son.”
Susannah smiled at him and realized how wonderful it was to converse with him when they were on a neutral subject. In this composed atmosphere, she found him utterly charming. She considered it a good sign that the marquis was continuing to talk to her and had not yet dismissed her from his home.
“Your other cousin, the Duke of Blakewell, recently married. I read in the Times that his duchess is a lovely young lady, new to London, I believe.”
The marquis stepped closer to her again. His head dipped lower, bringing his lips almost to the point of touching hers.
A tempting, roguish grin lifted the corners of his lips. Her breathing became shallow, and her heart thudded wildly in her chest as he whispered, “All true, Your Grace, but telling me how much you know about my grandmother and my cousins and even Lord Chesterfield and his letters does not tell me anything about you.”
If possible, Susannah planned to keep it that way, but looking at him now she knew it wouldn’t be easy. His brownish-green eyes turned dark and dreamy. Susannah’s stomach tightened. Somehow, she must fight her immense attraction to him.
Perhaps this was the time to leave. He probably wanted time to look into this matter about the pearls for himself. She had no doubt that he would inquire about her before they met again. And they would meet again. Something told her he was not a man to let a claim such as hers hang in the air unresolved for too long.
She had learned a lot in the years since her husband had died. Other than independence, the main thing she had mastered was when to back away from an argument and return another day, refreshed.
Susannah stepped away from the marquis and turned to the chair where Mrs. Princeton had been sitting among the stacked furniture and picked up her bonnet, cape, gloves, and the documents.
“I’ve kept you too long from your guests, and there is no more for me to say today except to tell you that I’ve leased a house not far from here.”
He cast a curious glance her way. “Really?”
“Yes, number 12 Woodlawn.”
Disbelief lit his eyes. He pointed toward the back window with his thumb and said, “The next street over?”
“Yes, in fact my house is directly behind yours.” She paused and took in a moment of pleasure at the surprised look on his face.
It was sheer luck that of all the houses for lease in Mayfair, one of them was directly behind Lord Raceworth’s town house. At first she had declined even to consider the house, as she had no desire to be anywhere near the man who held what her mother desperately wanted. In the end, she had decided there might be some advantages to being so close to him and had decided to lease the house.
“My guess is there are less than a hundred yards of gardens and a thick row of tall yew between our two houses,” Susannah continued. “When you change your mind and decide you want to look over the documents I have, you’ll know where to find me.”
He almost smiled. “So you think I’m going to change my mind?”
“There’s always reason to hope,” she said, echoing one of his earlier statements.
The sudden sparkle in his eyes let her know he knew what she was doing.
She gave him a single nod, started to walk away, but suddenly stopped and said, “If for some reason you should decide you want to sell the pearls to one of these three men you mentioned, would you notify me before you call on the gentlemen?”
He stared at her for a long moment, taking stock of the sudden change in her position. “What happened to the lady who said she would never pay for what rightly belonged to her family?”
“My lord, have no doubt that she is standing right in front of you,” she argued. “However, I would pay for the collar before I would see it fall into the hands of someone like Captain Spyglass, the antiquities dealer you mentioned, or the prince.”
The marquis looked at her from guarded eyes. “I’ll give you that much. I will notify you first if I ever have any intention to get rid of the pearls, but, Duchess, don’t count on that happening.”
She glanced down at the papers in her hands and then quickly back up to the marquis. “I must ask before I leave, have you no natural curiosity about what these documents say?”
“None whatsoever, but I do have an interest in you.”
She gave herself time for his words to register, and then she smiled. “Ah, now I remember why I’ve stayed away from London the past twelve years.”
“Has it been that long since you’ve been here?”
“Almost to the day.”
“I have a vague memory of a young lady marrying an older duke shortly after the Season began. That was probably about twelve years ago. Was that you?”
“Possibly. I married and immediately went to Chapel Glade in Blooming. I’ve not kept up with the comings and goings of London Society until recently.”
“When you heard that I have the Talbot pearls.”
“Yes. My mother read about them in the newsprint.”
“I remember when the gossip pages decided everyone should know what my grandmother left to me. But tell me, you say your husband died shortly after you married him?”
He was turning the conversation back to her again, but she didn’t really mind. “We were together a little more than a year before he passed away of fever.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago, my lord. No condolences are necessary.”
“Something tells me you want to avoid more questions about yourself.”
And he had left no doubt he wanted to ask more. People always did when they saw how young she was for a dowager duchess, but she had told him enough.
“You seem more than willing to talk about me but not the pearls. Why is that?”
“Quite frankly, Your Grace, you are a lot more intriguing than five strands of pearls, but something tells me you aren’t about to fill in the answers to any of the questions running around in my head.”
For some ridiculous reason, it thrilled her that he was full of curiosity about her. Perhaps it was good that he was. Maybe she could hold his interest until he became reasonable and decided to look at her documents.
“Thank you for making time for me. I’ll let you get back to your guests. Don’t worry about seeing me out. I’ll find Mrs. Princeton and be on my way.”
Head held high, she walked past him, assuming all had been said, but when she reached the door she heard, “Your Grace?”
She stopped. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her stomach quaked. Maybe he would look at her papers after all. She exhaled slowly and turned back to him.
“Yes, my lord?”
He gave her a knowing smile. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”
Her body went rigid. That’s all?
It was a pleasure meeting her?<
br />
He knew she expected more from him than that when he called her name and stopped her. Was he amusing himself with her again?
“Likewise,” she said.
His brownish-green eyes twinkled as he said, “You know, you never told me whether you were a leopard or a nun. Should I feel safe knowing you are now living in my neighborhood, or should I feel threatened?”
Susannah held her breath for a moment and weighed her answer carefully before saying, “Perhaps I am both, my lord, and perhaps you should feel both.”
The marquis gave her an easy, generous smile. It was so engaging, it took her breath away. Oh, goodness, she didn’t want to be smitten by him. Fate couldn’t be that cruel to her again to let her fall for another handsome scoundrel.
“Good day, my lord,” Susannah said and walked out to find Mrs. Princeton.
* * *
Race watched the duchess walk out of the music room in a swish of green skirts. He laughed under his breath and then whispered to himself, “What a lady.”
She had enough courage to back any man, including himself, into a corner and make him happy she’d put him there. When had he ever been so intrigued, so fascinated by a woman? How long had it been since he’d been instantly attracted to a woman, as he was to the duchess? He wanted to know more about her. He wanted to see her again, and she knew it. Was that why she was being so evasive? She wasn’t going to tell him everything about herself at one time. She wanted him to dig a little, as she had about him, and find out about her on his own. But why? Was it as simple as wanting him to be drawn to the mystery surrounding her? If so, it had worked.
Surely she knew it challenged him, but maybe she didn’t know that he had never met a challenge he didn’t accept and win.
He was still pondering her pronouncement that his grandmother’s pearls belonged to her family. But what surprised him more than that was the intensity with which she appealed to him. He hadn’t been that instantly attracted to a woman in years. He had seriously considered kissing her when their faces were so close he felt her minty breath on his cheek.
Why hadn’t he kissed her? It wasn’t as if she was an innocent miss who’d never been kissed. She’d been married. Had she had lovers in these past eleven years? Did she have one now? His gut tightened, and he pushed that kind of thought from his mind. Even if she did have a lover, he was aching to get her beneath him on a soft bed.
What kind of bewitching hold did she have on him?
“Race, I saw Her Grace pass by the drawing room on her way to the front door,” Morgan said, sauntering into the music room. “She wasn’t with you very long. What did she want?”
Race had to shake his head to clear his mind of his wayward imagination. “She wants the Talbot pearls.”
“Grandmother’s necklace? Just like the men who have been to see you recently?”
Race nodded.
“How much did she offer you for the pearls? I’d guess a lot more than Mr. Winston or Mr. Smith wanted to pay. The pirate offered you the most, right?”
“She made no offer,” Race answered, still deep in thought over the fascinating woman.
Morgan flashed Race a bewildering glance. “Nothing? That doesn’t make sense.”
“She says the necklace was stolen from her family more than twenty-five years ago, and she wants me to give it back.”
Morgan’s eyes widened. “What bloody nerve,” he exclaimed. “I hope you told her where she could go, and that place is a damned lot hotter than her fancy carriage in the heat of summer.”
“Not exactly.”
“Well, you should have.” Morgan paused. “You look pensive. What are you thinking?”
“Do you know where our grandmother got the pearls?”
Morgan rubbed his chin and studied over the question. “No, can’t say I do. There was never a reason to ask. She seldom wore them.”
“That is what I’m thinking, too. I can remember her wearing them only at private dinner parties in her home.”
“I think you may be right about that. I haven’t thought about the pearls in years. Not until her will was read and they were left to you. Why do you ask? Did the duchess accuse Grandmother of stealing them?”
Race quickly shook his head. “She didn’t go that far, but she did ask me how Grandmother obtained possession of them.”
“I’m sure one of her four husbands must have given them to her,” Morgan offered.
“Probably.”
“Or, knowing our grandmother, she could have bought them from someone for herself.”
“That’s very likely, too. We both know how she had a penchant for going after any anything she wanted.”
“Maybe Gibby will know for sure,” Morgan suggested. “Ask him.”
“I will.”
“Have you heard again from any of the men who wanted to buy the necklace?”
“I hope I made it clear that I didn’t want to hear from them again,” Race said firmly.
“Any chance you think the duchess is working with one of them?”
Race shrugged. “It crossed my mind, and I questioned her about that. She denies any knowledge of them. She seems very believable to me about that, but I can’t say anything for certain.”
Morgan seemed to study over their conversation thoughtfully. “Maybe there is something about the pearls you don’t know.”
“Like what?” Race asked.
Morgan blinked slowly, and then his eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. Maybe they were stolen. There has to be an underlying reason for the sudden interest in the necklace. It’s just too coincidental that four people have come to you in the past month, wanting the pearls.”
“I agree that it’s unusual. How about the fact the pearls are old, extremely rare, and there are probably more than six hundred pearls on the five strands? The duchess said she wasn’t aware of where the pearls were until it was written in the Times that they were left to me. Mr. Winston said the same. I remember that somehow it was leaked to the scandal sheets that you were left Valleydale and I was given the pearls.”
“I remember when that happened. So you are thinking that nobody but our family, and maybe a few friends, knew Grandmother had the necklace until a few weeks ago?”
“That we know of.”
Morgan sidestepped some furniture and walked over to the window. He pushed the floral-printed drapery panel aside. “I see the duchess walking to her carriage.”
Race saw the desire for Her Grace in his cousin’s eyes, and he was struck with sudden jealousy. That took him aback. He’d never objected to one of his cousins vying for the same young miss, lady, or mistress as he. He often welcomed it just for the challenge. But somehow with this woman, Race felt differently about that.
Morgan turned back to him. “Who is her companion?”
Why was Morgan asking about the older woman?
“I think her name is Mrs. Princeton. Why?”
“She must be widowed if she’s a companion.”
“I have no idea, Morgan. I wasn’t exactly interested in the woman.”
“I don’t see why not. She’s absolutely stunning. Perhaps I’ll find out more about Mrs. Princeton while you find out about the duchess.”
Suddenly it dawned on Race that Morgan was making the same mistake he had, thinking the older woman was the duchess and the younger her companion.
Race laughed. “You have it wrong, as I did in the beginning. The Dowager Duchess of Bloomfield is the younger, beautiful lady. Her companion is the older, gray-haired woman, Mrs. Princeton.”
Morgan glanced back at him and grinned as he let the drapery panel fall back to its rightful place. “You blackguard, you can’t fool me.”
“I’m not trying to, Cousin. The younger lady is the dowager duchess. She was very vague about her past, and I didn’t press her, but do you remember someth
ing about a young miss being hastily married off to an older, reclusive duke about twelve years ago?”
Morgan’s brow furrowed deeply. “I’m not bringing anything to mind. Why? Did that happen to her? Was she caught dallying with a blade and then forced to marry someone else?”
“Possibly, I really don’t know her story, yet.”
Morgan pushed a small table and two chairs aside to get to a sideboard that held a crystal decanter of brandy. He poured a splash into two glasses, and giving one to Race, he quipped, “You intend to find out for sure, don’t you?”
Race clicked his glass against Morgan’s. “Of course,” he answered, leaving out the fact Her Grace all but challenged him to do it.
Morgan smiled ruefully. “I see she has intrigued you.”
Race shrugged and sipped his brandy. It was more than just her beauty that drew Race, but he wasn’t about to admit anything.
“Perhaps I should go see her and tell her I’m the only one who can talk you into giving her the pearls.”
Race stiffened. Cousin or not, he would not have Morgan near her.
Without fear or humor, Race said, “Don’t even consider paying her a visit.”
Morgan searched Race’s face with his cool blue gaze. Race remained firm. He didn’t want to fight his cousin about this, but he would if he had to.
“All right, all right,” Morgan relented, lifting his hands in surrender. “I agree she is all yours.”
Race relaxed. Morgan was smart enough to know that with this woman, Race didn’t want any competition.
“So tell me, what proof did she offer to back up her claim about the pearls?”
“Some documents.”
“What did they say?”
“I never looked at them.”
Admiration shone in his cousin’s eyes, yet he asked, “Was that wise?”
“What do you think?”
Morgan grinned as he leaned against a side table. “I think it gives you reason to see her again, if you decide that’s what you want to do.”