“The timepiece my father left me.” He patted his pocket. “I carry it with me all the time even though it has not worked for a year. I do keep meaning to have it repaired.”
“Yes, you carry it with you all the time. Mrs. Chernov wears a necklace her husband gave her but she says it has no value.” But how did she know that for sure? “I think I must have a look at it. In any case, we need to determine what is her greatest treasure. I do not think our villain will abandon his plot.”
“But if she has no idea, how can you know?”
“If”—Chase emphasized the word and glared at Griff—“if Mrs. Chernov will talk to me now, I think a fresh discussion of the subject will help.”
“Good evening, my lord.” Lydia hoped his lordship could hear the frost in her voice and it turned him to ice.
“Good evening, Mrs. Chernov, and I see you have found out one of my secrets.”
“One of them, my lord?”
“I would never have thought those two words could ring with such condemnation. It was an innocent error I thought wiser to leave alone.”
So you could seduce me and I would think there was a future, Lydia thought. Just like Alexei. “I have learned from experience that there are very few innocent omissions, my lord.”
“Then I will tell you the truth about my name,” Lord Chase said, his voice hardening.
Where had the irritation come from? Lydia wondered. She reached for the coin around her neck.
“I do not mean to frighten you.” He came around the counter and took her hand. He bowed over it. “You are as much a lady as any woman I have ever met. I suspect that your origins are one of your secrets, but everything about you is as wellborn as my aunts and sisters. My reasons for not announcing my courtesy title have everything to do with me.”
It would have been churlish to pull her hand away. She could not doubt his sincerity and wondered how he had managed to see what so few others had ever noticed.
She softened. “Come into the back room. There is some tea and cakes.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Chernov.” He followed her through the door.
“Ida, close up for me today. Lord Chase and I are going to have tea and talk. You may go home as soon as you have drawn the curtains.”
Ida nodded, and Lydia could almost hear her trying to discern what devilment she and Lord Chase were up to.
“To call this ‘the back room’ hardly does it justice.” His eyes scanned the room, the shelves. “It’s like a treasure cave complete with a magic carpet on the floor.
She nodded. “Alexei felt one should be comfortable wherever one spent the most time.” You should see our bed, she thought, but wisely kept that to herself. “And there is no doubt that both of us spent as much time in here as we did in the flat upstairs. Sometimes we even took dinner here.”
Lydia sat at the table where the teapot and cakes waited. The cot was on the other side of the room, pressed against the wall, in front of shelves of great bolts of purple, lilac, and lavender cloth.
They did not speak while she poured their tea. When she offered him the cakes, she broke the silence, which seemed to her to be growing awkward. “I count myself lucky on those days when Mr. Florencio does not sell all his orange cream cakes. They are my favorite, and he sends them over so they do not go to waste.”
“Then I will take this lemon bar, or is that your other favorite?” He smiled, and she felt her heart speed up.
“Have one of each, my lord.”
“Ah yes,” he said, as if just recalling why they were seated in such a private place. “My name is Chase Weldon Cyrus Bourne. My mother is the Duchess of Bournemouth.” He cleared his throat and went on. “The duke recognizes me as his third son, but I am no blood relation to him.”
Chase paused. Lydia was almost sure he was waiting to see her shock, if she would send him on his way without hearing another word. What she wanted to do was to cover her ears. She didn’t want to hear this. It was too intimate, too personal a thing to share with a casual acquaintance.
She only nodded, unwilling to send him away when he would surely misinterpret her reason. At her nod, he relaxed and relief began to overtake his embarrassment.
“I do not know who my father is. My mother will not discuss it. My situation is not common knowledge, so you must know how highly I value your opinion that I would tell you this. I trust you will respect my privacy.”
“Yes, Lord Chase.” Lydia leaned toward him. “I do, and once again I promise you my complete discretion.” She picked up her teacup but did not think she could swallow even a sip.
“Thank you.” He took a long sip of his tea. “My family prefers to see as little of me as possible. I accept the allowance that the duke sends quarterly and make the required appearances with the family during the Season when we can appear to be en famille but do not actually have to speak to one another.
“For all intents and purposes I fill my time the way many gentlemen do: gambling, dancing, boxing, going to the theater, and buying anything that appeals to me. In truth, I spend my time finding and caring for children—boys actually—who are bastard sons not as fortunate as I am.”
“You mean you consider it your life’s calling?” She paused a moment then went on. “The boys who were guarding me. They are your foundlings.” The last was a statement. Her surprise was so genuine that the words burst from her without thought. “I beg your pardon, my lord. But you must admit that is an unusual calling for a gentleman. Not for a monk, perhaps,” she added.
“I am hardly a monk.”
His wry smile made her shiver, and not out of fear. She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling back. “Most English gentlemen are barely aware of those in need.”
“I decided long ago that the ton is not as blind to these troubles as I thought. Rather, they are overwhelmed by the magnitude of the problem and have no idea where to start. They think in grand terms and leave it to the government. Some like Mr. Wilberforce succeed, but most bills fail.”
“Wilberforce might have put an end to the slave trade, but it took him years and years.”
“Yes, a lifetime, I expect.”
So he saw it as a life’s work. “But you have help from among your friends?”
“I would say that one out of three wants to be included. Here in Birmingham, Mrs. Griffin’s son has been a boon companion.”
“Yes, all three Griffins are thoughtful people. I can see how he would be won over.” She touched her necklace as another thought came to her. “Now I see why you came to my rescue. You make a habit of it.”
“No.” He spoke more slowly. “Not so much rescuing as helping people find themselves. In your case, Mrs. Chernov, you had already rescued yourself.”
“I made that claim myself, my lord, but now I suspect that without your help there would not have been nearly as tidy an ending.”
“We are not at the end yet, Mrs. Chernov. We still do not know who wants your necklace and why.”
He stood up and began to pace the room. “Do you know which necklace the thief wants?”
“My lord?” She touched the chain at her neck. “As I told you the other night, this is the only necklace I own. Alexei sold everything when we made our escape from Russia ahead of Napoleon’s troops.”
“And why did he not sell that one?”
“Well, I am not sure he had come into possession of it at the time. He only gave it to me just before he left on what proved to be his final trip. He told me to wear it always, that it would be my greatest treasure and he would explain its value when he returned. He was lost at sea and never did come back.”
“He used those words?“ He stopped pacing and cocked his head. “Mr. Chernov used the same words that Nesbitt said his contact used?”
“Yes.”
“Then it must be someone who knew him, someone he told of its value.” They both spoke almost the same words at the same time.
The silence settled around them. It was the like-mindedness of t
heir thought that distracted her.
“May I see the necklace, Lydia?”
It was the first time he had used her Christian name. Bemused by the significance of that, Lydia pulled the chain out and would have taken it off, over her head, but Lord Chase came close to her and took the coin in his hand. She felt everything about him when he stood this close: his breath, his scent, his undeniable manliness.
He looked up. The expression in his eyes changed and challenged Lydia to tell the truth. A truth that had nothing to do with her necklace or Nesbitt’s stupidity.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.
“I want you to admit that you know as well as I do that we were brought together by fate, drawn together by this adventure. I want you to tell me you see that we are destined for so much more.”
“Chase, yes, I feel the attraction, but I hardly know you. The purely physical is not enough.”
“It would be if you trusted me.” He held the coin as he spoke. “Lydia, I wish you would believe me when I say that you are unique among all the women I have ever met and that you will look beyond my empty name and see me for who I truly am and for what we can be together.”
The coin flashed golden, but Chase barely noticed as he kissed her. “Bright and vibrant,” he whispered against her lips. “Everything about you is enchanting.”
Just one kiss, she thought. In the mere second it took to make that decision, a dozen thoughts pirouetted through her mind. Her attraction to him felt fast, but it felt right. Not like Alexei. Not selfish. Not secretive. For her this was not a choice colored by desperation. Could it be no more than lust? Or might it be love? There was only one way she would find out.
EIGHT
She didn’t so much surrender to his kiss as welcome it. The blending of their mouths felt so much like finding her other half that tears trickled down her cheek. She wanted to give all of herself to him, take all he had to offer and never let go.
They kissed and whispered and played the sweetest games until they bumped up against the edge of the cot. It startled both of them, and they had another choice to make. Chase framed her face with his hands, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears.
“I can’t imagine ever walking away from you, not being with you in every way a man and a woman can be.”
She lowered her head and a frisson of fear whispered through him to her. “I cannot imagine sending you away.”
He relaxed. “But first?” It was a question he did not have to finish.
“Oh yes, there is a but,” she said, sure she was echoing his frustration as well. “My prudence insists that we first solve the mystery of the necklace so that we are not—um—distracted.”
With a slow nod, Chase stepped away from her, straightening his clothes and drawing deep breaths. Lydia did the same, hoping that no one interrupted them now, when they were both so disheveled.
How hideous to be caught this way when nothing had happened. She laughed a little as she finished smoothing her hair, and he turned to look at her, a question in his eyes.
“I was thinking how awful it would be to be found looking as though we have made love when we have not.”
Chase came to her again, tipped her chin up with a finger, and kissed her lightly and very quickly. “We have made love, Lydia. Not as completely as we will, but as surely as you wear that necklace.”
Lydia looked down, not embarrassed but a little shy at what she saw in his eyes. “But, Chase, we have known each other only a little more than a week.”
“A very intense week.”
“That I cannot argue, my lord.” She kissed him on both cheeks and then laid her forehead against his. “We have seen in each other more than most who have known each other much longer.” She leaned back and broke out of his hold. And there is too much you still do not know about me. The thought made her stomach ache and her hands shake. She could not look at him.
“We know the most important thing, that we are willing to risk everything for what we think is important, life and love and the people we value.”
She looked up quickly. “How do you know that about me?”
“You talk about Mr. Chernov’s mother with great affection. You do your best to keep Mrs. Allerton from irritating her.”
She nodded, relieved his judgment was based only on such superficial observations.
“If you will pour,” he said, “I think even lukewarm tea would be just the thing to settle my nerves.”
Nerves? The man did not know the meaning of the word. Then it occurred to her that nerves was a euphemism for sexual need. That she could understand. He might be a bastard by birth, but he was the finest gentleman she had ever met.
She poured him more tea and offered him a cake. He shook his head and the two sat in silence for a minute as they had before. She watched as he pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, staring at the coin hanging from its chain. At least she thought that’s what he was staring at.
“Your coin was obviously made for foreign trade, with the great seal of England on one side and odd writing on the other. For India, I would guess, but if I make that guess based on the odd writing then I sound distinctly like Nesbitt with his guess at a Russian accent.”
“Hardly. You speak much better English.”
He raised his head and smiled at her teasing, then grew serious as before. “Mr. Chernov gave you the coin but you have no idea how he came to own it?”
“No idea at all.” He could have stolen it for all I know. She had learned early on not to question Alexei’s largesse.
“Perhaps, Lydia, the lady you call Grandmama knows something about it. Have you ever asked her?”
“No.” She had not wanted to know the truth if said truth was a story of theft and trickery. But what difference did it make now that Alexei was dead?
“Do you have any objection to asking her now?”
“Not really, though I think it best to wait until morning. She fades early in the evening.” Lydia looked away from him as she spoke the lie. She needed time to think when she was not distracted by his presence.
Mrs. Griffin and her daughter left the dining room. The footman poured some brandy and Griff let out a laugh that startled Chase.
“What is bothering you, my lord? You are as restless as a ten-year-old, or mayhap a twenty-year-old thinking of what he would rather be doing than having dinner with an old lady and her two aging children.”
“I enjoy your mother, and your sister has a wicked sense of humor.”
“Always so much more amusing when it is not aimed at me,” Griff said sourly. “I suspect it is why she never married. No man could ever match her repartee.”
“There are worse things than being on the shelf, Griff, and your sister seems to realize that.”
“Yes, we are too contented, the three of us. I’m not sure that’s always good.” Griff stood up and went behind the screen to use the chamber pot.
Had he ever been content? Chase wondered. He thought about it as he savored the newly imported French brandy, which had been unavailable during the war—one of the inconveniences he had borne without complaint, or not much complaint, while his countrymen fought the French.
He’d enjoyed being away at school. He’d enjoyed the London Season, but the only contentment he could recall was that moment sitting in the back room of Chernov Drapers, enjoying tea and superb cream cakes with Lydia.
But while he might have been content, his Lydia had secrets she had not yet shared. He hoped when she trusted him enough she would lay them before him and realize that, whatever they were, they were all in a past that might influence the present but was not part of their future.
He turned to Griff, who had just sat down again and was breathing in the brandy. “What have you been able to find out about Alexei Chernov?”
“The man was a chameleon,” Griff began. “He was loved or hated,” Griffin went on, “depending on who you talk to. One thing they all agree on is that he always had an eye on the
main chance, on a way to make money quick and easy.”
“Legally?”
“If one does not put too fine a point on it. For example, he would not hesitate to cut yardage from a bolt or substitute a bolt of lesser quality if he thought the buyer would be taken in. Almost always it worked. Not too many as quick as he was.”
Chase sipped the brandy. What he really wanted to do was knock it back and call for more. “How deep was his wife into this chicanery?”
“Everyone, to a man, says that Mrs. Chernov has spent the last year trying to right his wrongs. Money’s been tight for the family since he drowned, not because a woman is running the business, but because she is trying too hard to clear the Chernov name.”
“How did you find out all of this?”
“My mother. She knows everyone in town, including Chernov’s sister, who’s married to Allerton, the biggest mill owner in Birmingham. Mrs. Allerton’s the one who gave my mother that last bit about how hard Mrs. Chernov is working to make the Chernov name respectable again. Mrs. Allerton wants nothing more than to rise in society.”
“Then how do you know she was telling the truth about Mrs. Chernov’s efforts?” It was easier to think objectively when he wasn’t drowning in Lydia’s eyes, in that floral scent she favored, in the way she held on to her necklace when she was moved or afraid.
“I talked to a few of the merchants involved myself. They said Mrs. Chernov has been honest, even too honest. One of them said he took her aside and explained a few home truths about the way a merchant makes money. He said she thanked him for his insight but that she would do business so she did not need brandy to sleep at night.”
Chase smiled into his glass. That sounded like the woman he loved. He almost choked on the sip that accompanied that thought, then put it out of his mind as Griff went on.
“According to Mrs. Allerton, Mrs. Chernov and Mr. Allerton are about to sign an agreement. She is going to give him the purple dye recipe that Alexei Chernov would never share with anyone.”
The Unquiet Page 16