“I can, and I will.”
“No, please don’t do that,” he begged, dragging his feet and trying to halt Matson’s long strides.
When Matson heard real fear in the boy’s voice, he stopped and looked down at him. “Do you have something to say to me?” he asked sternly.
A tear rolled out the corner of one of the lad’s eyes and ran down his cheek, cleaning a streak of his smudged skin as it went. Matson’s heart lurched. He didn’t like what he was doing, but what choice did he have? Obviously the urchin had no one else to teach him a lesson. If he didn’t stop stealing now, he would find himself in prison or floating in the Thames.
“I’ve ’eard it said that a gentleman always keeps ’is word once ’e’s spoken. Is that true?”
“It is.”
Henry’s bottom lip trembled, and another tear slid down his cheek. His eyes riveted on Matson, he asked, “And ye’re a gentleman, are ye not?”
“I am.”
“If I give ye back yer knife and yer purse, will ye promise to give me the money ye spoke about?”
“You have my word.”
The boy nodded once and said, “I’ll take ye to where yer things are.”
Matson pulled his handkerchief out of his coat pocket and gave it to the lad. “Clean your face, and we’ll go.”
***
A couple of hours later, Matson found himself sitting in Sir Randolph’s drawing room, waiting to see Sophia. His heart drummed hard and steady in his chest. He couldn’t wait to give her the brooch and end her pain of loss. If the nightmares of seeing her mother’s dress go up in flames had started again when she lost the brooch, then surely they would stop when it was returned.
He took the brooch out of his coat pocket and unfolded the handkerchief it was wrapped in. It was fashioned in the shape of a flower with a gold stem. The five petals of the flower were covered in diamonds. The larger center stone was missing. He wondered if that had been a diamond, or perhaps one of the colored gemstones. Maybe it had been an emerald the same exact color of exotic green of Sophia’s eyes.
If he knew what type of stone had been there, he could have found a jeweler and had it replaced before returning it to her. No, he wouldn’t have. He wanted to get it to her as soon as possible, and deciding on a stone and having it set into the brooch would have taken time Matson didn’t want to waste. It was already early evening. Perhaps he’d suggest to her that she have the jeweler come to her with his tools and replace it right here in the house, so there would be no chance of losing it again.
He wished they could be alone when he gave it to her, but he knew there was no chance Double and Trouble would let her out of their sight. And it wouldn’t be right for him to prolong her agony any longer than necessary by keeping it until he found a time they could be alone.
Matson heard the shuffling of feet and muted voices, so he folded the handkerchief and put it back in his pocket and rose from the settee. The Misses Shevington walked in, with Mae helping June to walk.
He strode toward them and said, “Miss Shevington, may I help?”
“No, no, Mr. Brentwood. My ankle is much better. I am just taking care with it so as not to do more harm.”
“She says she’s better, but I’m not so sure,” Mae said.
“You worry too much, Sister. I’m fine. I just need an extra hand to steady me. Sit down, Mr. Brentwood.”
Matson waited until the ladies were seated on the settee before he took one of the side chairs. “I’m glad to hear you’re better, Miss Shevington.”
“So am I,” June said. “I don’t like being dependent on anyone to help me get around. So tell me, what can we do for you, Mr. Brentwood?”
“I’d like to see Miss Hart.”
“I’m afraid she’s indisposed,” June said, completely uninterested in his request.
Mae smiled at him. “She’s resting before she has to get dressed for the parties this evening. It’s quite taxing on one’s constitution to be out every night and so late.”
“I’m sure it is, but I won’t take too much of her time, if you’ll be so kind as to get her for me.”
“Perhaps you can see her at one of the parties this evening,” June said. “We really can’t disturb her now.”
Matson knew there would be little chance of getting Sophia alone tonight long enough to give her the brooch. And he wasn’t about to give it to her in front of a hundred people.
“You don’t understand. I have something to give to Miss Hart.”
Both their gazes fell to the handkerchief he pulled from his pocket.
“We couldn’t possibly allow you to do that, Mr. Brentwood,” June said, leaning back as if she were afraid he was pulling a mouse out of his pocket.
“Yes,” Mae said, looking down at the folded handkerchief with surprised eyes. “Perhaps if you’d brought flowers or sweets from that nice little shop down the street, we could have allowed you to give it to her, but that…”
Even before he’d heard their words and saw their disdainful expressions at his undignified offering, he knew they were not going to let him see Sophia. They had no idea what was wrapped in his handkerchief, and they had no desire to find out.
He wanted to say good riddance, shove the brooch in their hands, and be done with Sophia, her aunts, and Sir Randolph once and for all, but his fighting spirit was too strong. He wasn’t used to giving up something he wanted so easily, and he didn’t want to tell them it was the brooch.
He had found the brooch, and he would give it to her.
Matson just didn’t know when or how right now. He slipped the brooch back into his pocket and rose. “I understand, ladies. Don’t trouble yourselves to get up. I’ll see myself out.”
“Oh, but we must,” Mae said.
“No, Miss Shevington,” Matson said before June had the opportunity to do much more than part her lips. “I insist you stay here with Miss Shevington.” When Matson made it to the doorway of the drawing room, he turned back and said, “Excuse me, Miss Shevington, but what kind of stone was in the brooch that Sophia had stolen from her?”
“It was a pearl,” Mae and June said at the same time and then looked at each other and smiled.
“Not a very expensive one,” June added, “which was why her father had allowed her to put it on her doll. Why do you ask?”
“Just wondering,” he answered with a smile. “Good evening, ladies.”
Matson placed his hat on his head as he stepped outside. He huffed out a short laugh. He had to hand it to those two ladies. When they set their minds to something, they didn’t give an inch.
Much like Sophia.
Now that he thought about it, he was glad they hadn’t let him see Sophia. He’d rather be alone with her when he gave it to her. But getting her alone was the problem. Double and Trouble seldom let her out of their sight.
Matson stepped off the stoop and headed down the walkway. He had to think of a way to get Sophia alone. In the meantime, he’d take the brooch to a jeweler and have the pearl replaced.
Eighteen
Lord! I wonder what fool it was that first invented kissing.
—Jonathan Swift
Sophia had hardly been able to sleep at all, and she’d been filled with expectancy since she rose and dressed for the day. Though she’d tried to tamp it down, she couldn’t dispel the feeling of excitement that filled her. Matson wanted to see her again, and that elated her. She should instead be thinking about the differences between Lord Hargraves and Lord Snellingly, and there were plenty.
Lord Hargraves was younger and more appealing to her senses. He never mentioned poetry, but she worried that he might not give her the freedom she wanted to continue her involvement in her father’s company. The Season would be over soon. She knew Sir Randolph would be asking her to make a decision, but all she could do was think about Matson. He was the only man who set her heart to racing every time she thought about him. He was the only man she wanted to touch her in such an intimate way as h
e had on the boat.
When he’d seen her at the party last night, he’d asked her if Sir Randolph and her aunts were early risers. He’d smiled when she told him no, and that they seldom came downstairs before noon. He then asked her to meet him in the narrow passageway beside her house at nine o’clock. Sophia had said yes without hesitating.
She went about her usual morning routine without raising any suspicions with the servants, telling her maid that the morning was so lovely she wanted to sit in the garden undisturbed, have her tea, and work on poetry. She dressed in a simple morning dress of robin’s egg blue, with sheer, long sleeves and a scooped neckline. As was her custom for morning, she pulled the sides of her hair up and away from her face and secured it with a hand-painted comb, leaving the rest to drape down her back.
When she’d finished dressing, it was still half an hour before Matson’s appointed time, but Sophia couldn’t wait any longer to get outside. There was something about meeting him in secret that made her feel a little bit wicked.
She took one final look at herself, picked up her pencil and foolscap, and headed down the stairs. Mrs. Anderson insisted on helping her get settled in the garden with her tea, the morning newsprint, and her paper and pencil. As soon as the door closed behind the housekeeper, a pebble hit on the stone patio near Sophia’s feet. She looked up at the hedge and saw the leaves rustling.
Her heart raced. She rose and walked over to the hedge and pretended interest in looking at the shrub.
“You’re late,” he said.
Sophia couldn’t see Matson through the thick wall of leaves, but said, “I am not, and you know it. I am early, and so are you.”
“Does that mean you were eager to see me?”
“Only if it means your haste in getting here was that you were impatient to see me.”
“I admit I couldn’t wait. I’ve been here an hour already. Is it clear for you to come outside the gate?”
An hour!
Sophia inhaled deeply. “As clear as it will ever be. I’ll be right out.”
The gate squeaked when Sophia opened it, but she quickly shut it behind her and walked the few feet down to the pathway between Sir Randolph’s hedge and his neighbors’, and entered it. She had walked about one-fourth of the way down when Matson stepped out in front of her.
Sophia’s heart tumbled at the sight of him. Her stomach quivered deliciously, and teasing warmth tingled across her breasts. Matson was divinely handsome in buff-colored riding breeches, golden-brown waistcoat, and black coat. The shiny knee boots he wore added to his tall, rakish good looks. All she could think was that she hoped he had wanted to meet her so he could wrap her in his strong arms once again and kiss her.
His eyes seemed to devour her for a moment before he said, “Turn around. I’ve never seen your hair down, and I want to.”
Sophia turned her back to him. She felt his open palm start at the top of her head and slowly run down the length of her hair. He lifted its long weight in his hands, and she felt him gently crush it in his fists as his fingers caressed it. Sophia had never had anyone touch her hair with such reverence. She couldn’t see him, but she knew he buried his face in a handful of her hair and inhaled deeply. It pleased her that such a simple thing gave him such pleasure.
“Your hair is as gorgeous as rays from the sun, and smells like rainwater.”
Sophia laughed. “Rainwater has no smell.”
“Oh, but it does,” he said. “I knew your hair would be soft and warm in my hands.”
“That is because there is so much of it.” She faced him, feeling the strands of her hair glide through his fingers as she turned. “I’ve always wished I had hair as black and shiny as a raven’s feathers.”
A touch of devilment twinkled in his eyes. “Hair that color wouldn’t look good with your freckles.”
She smiled. “Well, since I’m wishing, I’ll go ahead and wish I didn’t have the freckles.”
He skimmed a finger across her nose and underneath her eye. “I’m glad you do. I like them. I like kissing them.”
His words made her heart soar. “Do you really?”
He nodded.
They were quiet for a moment. Sophia heard a morning dove cooing and the sounds in the distance of carriage wheels rolling over hard-packed ground. Still, all she could think was that if he didn’t kiss her soon, she’d have to kiss him.
“Did you want to come see me so we could talk about the May Day Fair Day on Saturday?”
“No. I have something for you, and I didn’t want anyone else to be present when I gave it to you.”
Sophia couldn’t imagine what he had for her, but she was certain that if her aunt June found out about it, she’d force her to return it. She watched him reach into his coat pocket and pull out a handkerchief. He picked up her hand.
“Open wide,” he said.
She did so, and he laid the handkerchief in her palm and carefully unfolded it.
Before the last fold was removed, Sophia gasped a shaky, “No.” Tears clouded her eyes so quickly she didn’t have time to blink them away. “My mother’s brooch,” she whispered without looking up. “You found it. You found the boy.”
“Yes.”
She looked up at Matson. Warm, early morning sunshine slanted through the tall shrubs and glanced off his face. He was smiling gently. She quickly glanced back down at the brooch again to make sure it was there, that this wasn’t a dream or a trick. She laid her other hand over the precious treasure to protect it. Her tears would not be dammed and spilled onto her cheeks.
She sniffed, and more tears of happiness and gratitude followed. She cupped the brooch to her chest directly over her pounding heart. From a clogged throat, she said, “I can’t believe I have it back.”
She tried to blink away the tears, but all she succeeded in doing was causing more to rush down her cheeks. Quickly, she wiped them away with the back of her trembling hand, but more followed.
“I don’t know what to say except thank you. I am—”
Sophia stopped talking when Matson reached up and wiped her wet cheeks with his thumbs, and then dried the rest of the tears from her skin. His touch was tender and sensual. The masculine scent of shaving soap that clung to his hands pleased her senses.
“No more needs to be said, Sophia. Tears of happiness are good,” he said softly. “There’s no need to erase them all.”
“You can’t know how I feel right now,” she said earnestly.
He smiled. “I have a fairly good idea.”
“No, I think I had given up hope of ever seeing it again.”
“That’s understandable. It’s been weeks since it was stolen.”
“Sir Randolph took me to the square a couple of times, but he had no patience to wait and watch for the boy.” She pressed the brooch tighter to her breast. “Where did you find it? How? Did the boy still have it, or did you find it somewhere else?”
“He still had it. There will be plenty of time for me to tell you all the details later. None of that is important right now.” He took her hand and tried to open it, but she kept her fingers closed tight.
“May I?” he asked softly.
At first she didn’t want to open her hand. She had the brooch, and she didn’t want to let go, but somehow she knew he didn’t want to take it from her. She slowly released her grip, and her fingers unfolded. He took the brooch out of the handkerchief and started fastening it to the neckline of her dress. “Did you see I had the pearl replaced?”
“No,” she said, embarrassed that she hadn’t noticed it. She looked down at his strong, capable hands as he slipped the pin into the fabric and notched it into the catch. “My eyes were so full of tears, all I could see was that it was my brooch. Thank you, Matson. I don’t think I would have ever had it replaced if you hadn’t done that. How did you know what was in it? I don’t remember telling you.”
“You didn’t. I asked your aunts.”
“When?”
“A couple of days ago.
I came over immediately to give it to you after I found it, but Double and Trouble wouldn’t let me see you.”
Sophia sucked in a shocked breath. “They knew you had my mother’s brooch and wouldn’t let you give it to me?”
“No, in fairness to them, they didn’t know what was wrapped in my handkerchief. Don’t be mad at them for the short delay. I realized that I would rather be alone with you when I gave it to you. How does it look?”
She looked down at the flower, and a peaceful feeling slowly seeped through her. “Like the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Her eyes teared up again, but thankfully, this time she checked them. “I’m so happy to have it that I feel I should offer you a reward. I would have paid anything to get it back.”
As soon as she said the words, she knew she had spoken without thinking again, and she wanted to bite her tongue. A gentleman would never take a reward from a lady. And the last thing she wanted to do was insult Matson when he’d just given her her heart’s desire.
He stepped a little closer to her, and in a soft voice said, “If you offer a reward, I will accept.”
Startled that he’d agreed, she quickly said, “Oh, then please name your price. How much would you like?”
He moved closer to her. He looked so deeply into her eyes she couldn’t have turned away from his penetrating gaze if she’d wanted to.
“I’ll take as much as you can give, Sophia.”
Sophia tried to remember how many coins she had in her possession. “I don’t have much money here in the house, but I can get more later today.”
His lips inched closer to hers. “Sophia, surely you know I’m not talking about money.”
A warm, shivery awareness eased through her. Matson was too near, his words too provocative. She swallowed hard. “You’re not?”
“You know I’m not.” His gaze never left hers, but his hand slipped over to her ear, and his fingers caressed her earlobe. “I’m talking about kisses as a reward. How many kisses do you think that brooch is worth?”
Amelia Grey - [Rogues' Dynasty 06] Page 19