Whirlwind Affair

Chapter 8

A knot tightened in Allie's stomach. She needed only to glance at the grim set of Lord Robert's features to know he meant what he said. He would keep her in this room until she offered him some sort of explanation for the extraordinary events that had befallen him, and her, since her arrival.

In truth, she could not blame him, although providing such an explanation placed her in an awkward position. How to tell him enough to satisfy him, yet not tell him so much as to compromise herself? And what exactly had he meant when he'd accused her of lying to Laramie?

She looked away from his far too penetrating gaze to stare into the flames dancing in the hearth, trying to assimilate the conflicting emotions battering her.

Cold, stark fear shivered down her spine. There was no longer even the shadow of a doubt that someone had meant her serious harm all along. And it was now clear that the reason was the coat-of-arms ring. But why? And who? The person responsible had clearly sailed with her from America. It had to be someone who had known David, who'd been involved in his shady dealings. And clearly this person believed the ring was valuable.

But what now? Now that the person-or persons-had gained possession of what they wanted, would they leave her alone? Please, God, let it be so.

Anger collided with her fear, and she pressed her lips together. Damn you, David! Even three years after his death, he continued to wreak havoc in her life. A sudden wave of weariness crashed through her, draining her, and her eyes slid closed. God, how many days and nights had she spent hovering on the brink of despair? Sitting alone, so tempted to give up. It would be so easy to simply stop this quest… to let him win.

She pulled in a deep breath and gritted her teeth. No. She would not give up. She refused to be a victim again. David would not steal anything else from her.

Steal. Guilt hit her like a slap. Even though she'd tried her best to keep it safe, she'd lost possession of Lord Shelbourne's ring. She dreaded meeting the earl now, having to tell him that she did not have his ring after all.

And not only the ring was gone. Valuables belonging to Lord Robert's family had been taken, and her bedchamber was a shambles. In spite of her best intentions, she'd certainly proven to be a less than stellar houseguest. And it was now time to make some amends.

Drawing a bracing breath, she turned to Lord Robert. He stood with his arms folded across his chest, watching her with a piercing intensity that curled her toes inside her shoes.

"I'm not quite sure where to begin-"

"You can start by telling me why you lied to Laramie," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. "You told him nothing else unusual had happened to you, yet I recall that you fell overboard several hours before arriving in London."

She lifted her brows. "I did not lie to him. He asked if I’d experienced any other problems since arriving. I haven't. That incident occurred before I arrived."

Unmistakable annoyance flashed in his eyes. Reaching out, he grasped her upper arms. The heat of his hands pressed through her bombazine sleeves. "I'm not in a mood to play word games or split hairs, Mrs. Brown. Perhaps, by some miracle, you might have convinced me that the kidnapping and today's robbery were unrelated, but falling overboard as well?" His fingers tightened briefly. "No, I'm afraid you haven't a prayer of persuading me that the three occurrences are unlinked. Tell me, were there any other incidences during your journey?"

She tried her best to keep her features expressionless, but clearly she failed, for a muscle in his jaw ticked. Realizing there was no point in hiding them, she told him about falling down the stairs and becoming ill after eating on the ship.

Concern darkened his eyes. "Surely you cannot believe that all these disturbing occurrences are unrelated?"

"No… not any longer." Then, in an effort to forestall the barrage of questions she sensed about to burst from him, she added, "I'll try to explain, but I'm afraid I do not know very much."

He slowly released her arms, but his gaze never wavered from hers. "The fact that you know anything about these events puts you at an advantage over me. I'm listening."

Pressing her hands to her jittery stomach, she said, "After David died, I found a coat-of-arms ring among his effects. I was curious about the piece as I'd never seen it before. A jeweler in America told me he believed it was English in origin. When I decided to visit Elizabeth, I brought the ring along, hoping to learn more about it. I gave Mr. Fitzmoreland, the antiquities expert I spoke with here, a drawing of the coat of arms. I received a letter from him this morning informing me that the coat of arms was that of the Shelbourne family."

She paused to draw a much-needed breath and to gauge his reaction thus far. Understanding was dawning in his gaze.

"This was the business you wished to conduct in London."

"Yes."

"And that's the reason you requested an introduction to Shelbourne."

She nodded. "I wished to return the ring to him. I had no use for it, and I thought it might hold some sentimental value for him."

"How did it come to be in your husband's possession?"

"I'm not certain. David was a… collector. No doubt he purchased it in some dusty little treasure shop he discovered during his travels."

"The ring was no doubt quite valuable. You planned to simply give it to Shelbourne? Why not sell it to him?"

She raised her chin a notch. "I didn't feel it was mine to sell." Before he could question her motives further, she plunged on, "For reasons unknown to me, it appears that someone wanted that ring-desperately enough to try to harm me, then to steal it. I didn't believe the incidents were connected because I couldn't imagine what anyone would want from me."

"But now it is clear they wanted the ring. And were quite willing to harm you in order to get it." He frowned with obvious concern. "Since the attacks began on board the ship, this person must have followed you from America. Who knew you had this ring in your possession?"

"The only person I ever told or showed it to was the jeweler."

His frown deepened. "Perhaps the ring was more valuable than this jeweler led you to believe and he wanted it for himself. Did you mention your travel plans to him?"

"No. And I can assure you he was not on board the Seaward Lady."

"He could have hired someone to follow you."

She mulled that over for several seconds, then nodded. "I suppose that is possible. But now that whoever wanted the ring has it, I'm certain they will no longer bother with me."

She looked into his eyes. His expression was unreadable, but very intense. After a long moment, his gaze lowered to her mouth. His eyes seemed to darken, and a look she'd have sworn was desire flared in their depths.

Heat rushed through her like a brush fire. She imagined him stepping closer, leaning forward, brushing his lips over hers. Her mouth tingled, as if he'd actually caressed her, and she bit her bottom lip to stem the unsettling sensation.

Unable to stand the intensity of his regard, she stared down at the carpet and endeavored to regain her equilibrium. "I'm very sorry that you became involved in this, Lord Robert," she said quietly, "and I'm equally sorry that your family's belongings were stolen as a result. I don't know how I will replace them, but-"

His fingertips touched under her chin, cutting off her words. He gently raised her chin until their eyes met. "They are merely things, Mrs. Brown, and of no importance. We must be grateful that neither of us was seriously injured. Things can easily be replaced. People, however, cannot…" A muscle jumped in his jaw, and something else flickered in his eyes. Something dark, haunted, and full of pain. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the expression vanished. It was the same expression she'd seen flash in his eyes at The Blue Iris.

Curiosity she could not shove aside pulled at her. What secrets was this man hiding? What was the transgression in his past that Lady Gaddlestone had alluded to? Was his misconduct of the same sort as David's?

Part of her instantly rejected the possibility that Lord Robert was capable of criminal deeds, but she forced herself to ignore that involuntary softer leaning. After all, she barely knew the man. And indeed, it didn't matter what his secrets entailed or what he'd done-just the fact that he obviously had secrets and had done something was reason enough to be wary and keep her distance from him.

His hand slid away from her chin, and he stepped back from her. "Tell me, were all your garments destroyed?"

She fought the urge to lay her fingers over the spot where his had just touched her, to hold in the warm imprint he'd left upon her skin. "Not all of them. I still have two gowns-the one I'm wearing and one other."

He nodded in a preoccupied fashion, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. She took advantage of his distraction to edge toward the door. With any luck, she'd quit his company before he thought to question her further. "If you'll excuse me, I'd like to retire now."

He turned back to her, surprise flickering over his face, as if he'd momentarily forgotten she was in the room. "Of course. I'm certain your bedchamber has been put back to rights by now. Good night, Mrs. Brown."

She murmured good night, then quickly exited the room. She'd half-expected him to leave the library with her, to prepare to return to his own rooms, but clearly he intended to stay for a while. There was no denying his presence in the town house made her feel safe, yet at the same time it left her achingly unsettled. And increasingly frightened of her own reactions.

Of its own volition, her hand rose to her face, her fingertips lightly brushing over her chin. Dear God, he'd barely touched her, yet she'd felt that gentle caress as if lightning had struck her. And the way he'd looked at her…

Her fingers moved up to her mouth. He'd wanted to kiss her. There was no doubt. She'd seen it in his eyes. A sigh whispered past her lips, blowing warm against her fingertips. What would she have done if he had?

Melted. Into a quivering puddle of want. And then-

She caught herself and, with an exclamation of disgust, yanked her hand down to her side. With unease cramping her insides, she walked briskly down the corridor to the stairs.

Heaven help her, these feelings he inspired in her terrified her. They were exactly the same dreamy, impractical emotions David had aroused… except for one thing.

The feelings Lord Robert aroused in her were even stronger.

Robert stared at the flames, memories overwhelming him. He tried to stop them, but the danger facing Mrs. Brown, coupled by Lady Gaddlestone's tale at The Blue Iris and his own earlier words, brought the past flooding back like a giant wave, drowning everything in its path. Things can easily be replaced. People, however, cannot…

She had offered him an explanation, but damn it, he strongly suspected she had not told him the entire story behind that ring. He'd chosen not to press her any further, sensing she would not tell him anything more. But she had been in real danger. And she very well might still be. The thought of anything happening to her…

His hands fisted and his jaw tightened. No! No harm would befall her. He would personally see to it. He'd failed Nate. He would not fail again. Straightening, he paced in front of the fire.

The hell with propriety, he would remain here at the town house instead of returning to his rooms. After all, Elizabeth would never forgive him if anything happened to her friend. You’d never forgive yourself, his inner voice informed him.

Well, of course he wouldn't. He wouldn't wish harm on anyone… not just specifically her.

A groan escaped him, and he raked his hands through his hair. Who the bloody hell was he trying to fool with that cock-and-bull nonsense? Of course he wouldn't want anyone to suffer harm, but damn it, it was vital, crucial that no harm befall her.

Another groan eased past his lips. Walking to the leather settee, he sat wearily upon the cushion, then rubbed his tired eyes with the heels of his palms.

Damn it, he'd almost kissed her. Had wanted to so badly he could all but taste her upon his tongue… Had wanted to with an intensity that had actually frightened him because he somehow knew that something much more than a simple touching of lips would occur.

Blast it, she appealed to him more with each passing moment. He admired her courage and grit. Not once during any of their mishaps had she complained. He respected the great lengths and expense she'd gone to in order to trace the ring to its owner and attempt to return it, without any gain to herself. And the fact that someone had tried to hurt her, that she might still be in danger, called out to all his protective instincts.

And then there was simply the look of her, which attracted him in a way he'd never before experienced. He knew dozens of beautiful women, yet none affected him as she did. There was something in her eyes… in spite of her brave words and actions, there was something haunted and lonely, sad and vulnerable in her gaze that simply grabbed him by the heart. The contrast between the real woman and the woman in the sketch fascinated him.

"Argh!" Tipping his head back, he squeezed his eyes shut and expelled a long breath. Damn it, he did not want to feel this way. Not with this woman whose heart belonged to another man and whose home was on another continent. Why the bloody hell couldn't he be feeling all these things for an uncomplicated English girl?

And just what the bloody hell was he going to do about it?

Allie stepped into the breakfast room just after dawn the next morning, and halted as if she'd walked into a wall of glass.

Lord Robert sat at one end of the polished mahogany table, drinking from a china cup and perusing a newspaper.

Good Lord, what was he doing here so early? She'd known that he would come to the town house today, yet she'd hoped to have the morning hours to mentally prepare herself to face him. Obviously she was not to have that luxury, for there he sat, looking strong and masculine in a dark bluejacket, snowy shirt, and perfectly knotted cravat.

He looked up from his reading and their eyes met over the rim of his china cup. Heaven help her if he looked at her as he had last evening…

But her worries were for naught, as he merely smiled at her in a friendly manner. "Good morning, Mrs. Brown. You're up bright and early today."

She swallowed to moisten her dry throat. "I could say the same to you, Lord Robert."

"Ah, well, I've always been a morning sort of person," he said, lowering his cup to the saucer. "Please join me for breakfast. The poached eggs are especially good."

Breathing in the heavenly scent of coffee permeating the air, she walked to the sideboard where she filled a china plate with two eggs, several pieces of thinly sliced ham, and a thick slice of fragrant, freshly baked bread.

Sliding into the chair across from him, she heard him chuckle. "It must run in the family," he said.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I know you and Elizabeth are distant cousins." He nodded toward her stacked plate. "Clearly your love of a healthy-sized breakfast runs in the family. We all tease Elizabeth unmercifully about her fondness for the morning meal."

Settling her linen napkin in her lap, she said, "It has always been my favorite. One day, when Elizabeth and I were eight years old, we engaged in a contest to see which of us could eat the most eggs for breakfast."

He smiled. "Ah, so you did more with eggs than juggle them and splatter them upon your face, I see."

"I'm afraid so."

"And who won this competition?"

The memory washed over her, filling her with wistful nostalgia. "Neither of us. As we both attempted to force down our seventh egg, Mama put a stop to it. We both suffered dreadful bellyaches the rest of the morning, to which Mama was totally unsympathetic."

He laughed, and her eyes were drawn to the way his firm lips stretched over his even, white teeth. "At least your competition was with eggs. I recall issuing a similar challenge to Austin over pies."

She raised her brows. "That sounds quite fun, actually."

"Not when the pies are made of mud." Pure deviltry glinted in his eyes. "Of course, Austin wasn't aware of that when he accepted me."

"Oh, dear. How old were you?"

"I had just turned five. Austin was nine." A chuckle sounded from his throat. "I won. Didn't have to eat more than a spoonful, as Austin gave over after the tiniest taste."

"Yet I somehow have the feeling that you would have eaten much more than a spoonful in order to best him."

He inclined his head in agreement. "Absolutely. I always play to win. Although to this day I vividly recall how utterly foul that dirt tasted." He pulled a comical face and shuddered dramatically. "Never again."

A footman appeared at her elbow, and she gratefully accepted coffee. She could feel the weight of Lord Robert's stare upon her, but as she did not wish to become lost in his dark blue gaze, she applied her attention to her breakfast with the zeal of a scientist to a microscope.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked after a moment where the only sound was her cutlery tapping against her plate.

No. I tossed and turned most of the night, and it s entirely your fault. "Yes, thank you. Did you?"

After a full minute passed without him offering a reply, she risked prying her attention from her thinly sliced ham to peek up at him. And nearly choked on her food.

His gaze was riveted on her breasts.

All the tension that had drained away after his easy greeting and companionable conversation, came roaring back, bringing with it a storm of heat. To her horror, she felt her nipples harden. And to her utter mortification, it was obvious from his quick intake of breath and the way his eyes darkened that he noticed.

She felt color climbing up her neck. She needed to lift her napkin, or cross her arms-something-yet she found she couldn't move. Aching need rushed through her, sparking to life nerve endings that had lain dormant for three years.

He suddenly looked up, and her breath stalled at the unmistakable desire emanating from his eyes. "No," he said, his voice low and husky. "I didn't sleep well at all."

"I… I'm sorry to hear that." Please, please stop looking at me like that. It makes me feel things I don't want to feel… Makes me want things…

He reached for his coffee, breaking that hypnotic stare, and relief relaxed some of her tense muscles.

"But then, I rarely sleep well when I'm not in my own bed," he said. "I spent the night here."

Her heart skipped a beat. No more than a few feet had separated them last night. "You did?"

"Yes. Given the dangers you've faced, coupled with the fact that we don't know if there might be further threats to you, I thought it best. I sent a footman round to my rooms last night to collect my essentials. I plan to remain here until we leave for Bradford Hall, which may be happening quite soon." Reaching into his jacket, he withdrew a note. "This arrived last night after you'd retired. It's from Shelbourne. He's invited us to call upon him this morning. I haven't responded yet, as I didn't know if you still wished to meet him in light of the fact that you no longer have his ring. Since he never knew you had it-"

"He knew. I wrote to him yesterday, telling him. I wanted him to know I had the ring and wished to return it to him." She blew out a breath. "I feel dreadful having to tell him it is no longer in my possession, but there is no alternative."

He rose, setting his napkin next to his plate. "In that case, I shall write him immediately, telling him to expect us. If you'll excuse me…"

Although she tried not to, she watched his reflection in the huge gilt mirror hanging above the mahogany sideboard. When he disappeared through the doorway, a breath she hadn't realized she held, expelled from her lips, and she fought the urge to fan herself with her napkin.

There was no doubt about it-Lord Robert looked as fine exiting a room as he did entering one.

Robert fought the urge to scowl as he watched the earl of Shelbourne bow low over Mrs. Brown's hand.

"A pleasure to meet you," the earl said. "Jamison here always seems to be acquainted with the loveliest women. I'm honored that he would introduce us." Tucking Mrs. Brown's hand through his arm, he led her across the well-appointed drawing room to an overstuffed settee. He sat next to Mrs. Brown, angling himself in such a way that Robert was forced to sit several yards away in a wing chair.

Settling himself in the chair, which he grudgingly admitted was quite comfortable, he silently observed Geoffrey Hadmore and Mrs. Brown. With her golden-brown eyes wide and full of distress, she explained, as she had to him last evening, how she'd found the ring among her husband's possessions and traced it to him. Then she related the story of the robbery, apologizing profusely, and promising to return the ring to him immediately if it was found.

Shelbourne, his dark eyes full of admiring warmth, clasped her hand between his. "My dear, undoubtedly this ring was nothing more than an inexpensive bauble an uncle or cousin sold or gave away. And I can hardly miss something that I never even knew existed. While I greatly appreciate your efforts to restore it to me, you mustn't give it another thought. Now, you must tell me about America. Fascinating place. I'd love to travel there someday…"

Robert shifted in his chair and turned a deaf ear to Shelbourne. Bloody hell, it was an effort not to roll his eyes at all the palaver flapping from the earl's lips. Indeed, if it had been directed at anyone other than Mrs. Brown, he would have ignored it and simply enjoyed the tea and what looked like excellent biscuits resting on the ornate silver tea tray. But as the full strength of Shelbourne's attention and charm was directed at Mrs. Brown, Robert's teeth ground in annoyance.

At that moment Shelbourne's mastiff walked into the room, the thump of his massive paws silenced by the maroon-and-blue Persian rug. Robert patted his knee in invitation to the beast, who he recalled from walks in the park was named Thorndyke and whose enormous size hid a kittenlike temperament.

Clearly sensing a friend, Thorndyke trotted over and plopped his huge head on Robert's thigh, looking up at him with a woebegone expression. Robert stroked the dog's warm fur, then shared a biscuit with him. Thorndyke gazed at him with pure canine devotion that proclaimed them to now be lifelong friends.

He glanced over at the couple on the settee and his annoyance instantly multiplied when he observed an attractive blush staining Mrs. Brown's cheeks. "That is very kind of you to say, Lord Shelbourne," she murmured.

Damn it, what the hell had the bounder said? He'd been so disgruntled, he'd missed it. He did not, however, miss Shelbourne's low-pitched reply.

"Please, call me Geoffrey." A slow, admiring smile, the likes of which Robert had seen Shelbourne bestow on numerous other women, eased over the earl's face. "I see no reason for us to be so formal, do you? And may I call you Alberta?"

"By God, look at the time," Robert said, jumping to his feet, brushing biscuit crumbs from his breeches, which Thorndyke immediately licked up. "Had no idea it was so late. Really must shove off. Important appointment, you know."

Mrs. Brown appeared surprised by his announcement, but she quickly gathered up her reticule. Shelbourne rose and shot Robert a look that was no doubt meant to be pleasant, but which didn't quite cover up the annoyance simmering in his eyes.-

"If you must go, Jamison, of course I won't detain you. There is, however, no need for Mrs. Brown to depart so soon. I'd be delighted to escort her home after we've finished getting acquainted."

I’ll just wager you would be. Curving his lips into a smile that precisely mimicked Shelbourne's, Robert shook his head regretfully. "A generous offer, Shelbourne, but I'm afraid that's impossible. The appointment is Mrs. Brown's, and therefore she must be present."

Shelbourne stared at him for the space of several heartbeats. Robert kept his expression perfectly bland. Clearly the earl wished to pursue the matter, but instead he turned to Mrs. Brown, who had risen and stood near the edge of the settee.

Taking her hand, Shelbourne raised it to his lips and pressed a decidedly prolonged kiss to her fingertips, edging Robert's irritation up several more notches.

"I am bereft that you must leave so soon," Shelbourne said, "but I am delighted we were introduced. It is not often that my home is graced with such beauty."

Robert fought the urge to drag Shelbourne outdoors and introduce him to the cobblestones. Headfirst. Damn it all, he was looking at Mrs. Brown as if she were a sugarcoated morsel he wished to nibble upon.

Tucking her arm through his with a proprietary air that curled Robert's hands into fists, the earl walked with Mrs. Brown toward the foyer. As the corridor was only wide enough to accommodate two people, Robert was forced to trail behind.

"I would like very much to continue our conversation… Alberta. Would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you to the opera this evening?"

"Thank you," came Alberta 's soft reply, "but as I'm in mourning, I'm afraid I cannot accept."

Ha! See there, she's in mourning, you reprobate, so just cast your roving eye elsewhere. The opera, indeed. Robert knew Shelbourne well enough to know that singing was the last thing on the man's mind. He recognized that lustful gleam in Shelbourne's eye. And well you should, his inner voice taunted. It s the same gleam you have in your own eye for the lovely Mrs. Brown.

His irritation pumped up yet another notch, and he consigned his inner voice to the devil. Yes, she inspired lustful urges in him. But at least he knew he wouldn't act upon them. Shelbourne, he knew, wouldn't hesitate. Yes, unlike Shelbourne, he most certainly would not foist his lust upon a woman who still mourned her dead husband. No, he'd take such urges to a mistress.

A frown tugged down his brows. Fustian. He did not currently have a mistress. He'd been so busy trying to find a wife…

Well, he'd simply double his efforts to find a wife and bring his lustful urges to her. He'd find a beautiful young English girl and marry her and-

At that moment Mrs. Brown turned around, and their eyes met. The effect was like a blow to his midsection. His jaw clenched as the truth settled upon him like a death knell. It was going to be bloody hard to search for a bride when he could not even entertain the thought of any woman except the one looking at him right now.

Pushing aside the burgundy velvet drapery in his private study, Geoffrey watched the black lacquer coach carrying Jamison and Mrs. Brown disappear from view. For the first time in what seemed like decades, he allowed himself to draw an easy breath.

Mrs. Brown had not given any indication, by her manner or conversation, that she knew his secret. Of course, she might simply be a consummate actress, but once the ring was in his possession, it wouldn't matter what she might know. He'd destroy the evidence. And then get rid of the loose ends.

At that moment he caught sight of Lester Redfern walking swiftly toward the town house. Speaking of loose ends…

Ah, yes, within a matter of minutes, the ring would be his, thus ending the nightmare that had hovered over him for so long.

"I wasn't aware I had an appointment," Allie said as the carriage moved slowly down the crowded street. Indeed, she would have contradicted Lord Robert's obvious falsehood on principle if she had not been anxious to depart. No doubt she should have been flattered by the handsome earl's obvious interest, but instead his attentions had repulsed her. Now, if only the man sitting across from her repulsed her…

A boyish smile lit his features. "Of course not, this appointment is a surprise."

Dear Lord, it was difficult to resist that smile, but she had to. For her own peace of mind. "I'm afraid I do not care overmuch for surprises," she said stiffly. "Where are we going?"

"Nowhere sinister, Mrs. Brown, I give you my word. I simply scheduled an appointment for you at the modiste. I thought you might wish to replace your destroyed gowns."

An embarrassed flush crept up her face. Heaven knew she did not wish to spend the next weeks and months with only two gowns to her name, but she simply could not afford to purchase new ones. And how humiliating to have to admit as much to him, especially when his gesture was so kind and thoughtful.

Raising her chin, she said, "While that was very considerate of you, I'm afraid I only brought limited travel funds with me."

"I do not know how clothing is priced in America, but I believe you'll find that it is quite inexpensive here in London. Remarkably so. Especially wools. All those sheep wandering about the countryside, you know."

Although she suspected that what constituted inexpensive to him would differ vastly from her definition, a spark of hope kindled in her. If what he said was true, perhaps she could afford one new gown.

The carriage halted. "Here we are," Lord Robert said with a winning grin. "Let us see what fabulous bargains Madame Renee has to offer."

Geoffrey looked at the ring resting in his palm, then raised his gaze to Redfern.

"There it is," Redfern said. "Had it sewn into her petticoat, she did. Right clever hiding spot. But not clever enough." He grasped his lapels and rocked back on his heels, a smug grin creasing his face.

"Where is the box?" Geoffrey asked in a perfectly controlled voice.

The smug grin faltered. "Box?"

"The ring box." A slow thumping commenced behind his eyes. "You were to retrieve the matching box as well. Was the ring not in a box?"

"Yes, but-"

"So where is the box?" He enunciated each word very clearly, striving to ward off the red haze he felt draping over his vision.

"I suppose it's still in Mrs. Brown's bedchamber."

"You left it behind."

A flash of unease flickered in Redfern's eyes at his glacial tone, but then a defiant look crossed his ruddy face. "I left it behind," he concurred. "Took the ring out of it to make sure it were the right bloody ring this time, then tossed the box on the floor like the piece of trash it were. All rusty and dented it were-not any sort of a matchin' box to that fine ring. You said nothin' about a bloody dented, rusty box. 'Get the ring and its matchin' box' is wot you said, and there"-he jabbed a stubby finger at Geoffrey's palm-"is the bloody ring. There weren't no matchin' box." He jutted out his chin. "I held up my end, and now it's time for you to hold up yours. I want my blunt. And I want it now."

Geoffrey's fingers curled around the ring, the cool metal digging into his palm in an effort not to wrap his fingers around Redfern's throat. With studied nonchalance, he crossed to the fireplace, then crouched down to affectionately stroke Thorndyke's fur.

"Tell me, Redfern, do you value your life?" he asked in a soft, conversational tone.

When he did not receive a reply, he looked up at Redfern, who stood still and silent as a statue near the French windows, his jaw tightly clenched.

Finally Redfern answered, " 'Course I value my life. But I ain't takin' all the blame here. You should have been more specific about the damn box."

"You will recall to whom you are speaking, Redfern, and guard your tone as well as your insolent tongue." Geoffrey forced in a deep breath to calm his fury. "Clearly I overestimated your capabilities."

"You did not. Just some unfortunate circumstances-"

"Have thwarted you, yes, so you've said. Well, allow me to explain this, and I shall endeavor to put it in terms even you can understand. I want the box the ring was in. I don't care how you get it. You will receive not so much as a farthing from me until I have it. If you fail to get it for me, you will die." With a final fond pat to his pet's head, Geoffrey rose. "Any questions?"

A muscle in Redfern's jaw ticked. "No, my lord."

"Excellent." He inclined his head toward the door. "Willis will show you out."

The instant Redfern quit the room, Geoffrey walked to his desk, forcing his steps to remain calm and measured. Slipping a small silver key from his waistcoat, he unlocked the bottom drawer. Then, opening his fist, he dropped the ring inside. It hit the wood with a hollow thud. He then relocked the drawer and pocketed the key.

Crossing to the decanters, he poured himself a brandy. To his disgust, his hands shook, sloshing several amber drops onto the rug. He quickly tossed back the potent liquor, swallowing the obscenity that threatened to roar from his throat. The urge to break something, to throw something, to destroy something with his hands nearly strangled him, and he quickly poured himself another drink. He then wrapped his hands around the crystal snifter to keep them still. Calm. Must remain calm.

With the second brandy burning down to his gut, he started to feel a bit steadier, regaining the control that imbecile Redfern had nearly disrupted.

The box. Sick panic clutched him and he squeezed his eyes shut, beating it back, forcing himself to think rationally and plan his next move.

Had Mrs. Brown discovered the secret of the box? Exactly how much did she know? It had appeared she knew nothing about his secret, but he had to know. And if she didn't already know, might she not still learn the truth? What if she discovered the false bottom in the box now that the ring was gone? What if she gave the box to someone? Or threw it away and it was found by one of the servants? The only way he could be assured that his secret would never come to light would be to destroy the box and its hidden contents himself.

Still, why had she not returned the box to him? Did she realize its value? Did she indeed intend to blackmail him? But if so, why had she not already made a demand? Or was that her ploy-to bide her time, like an animal stalking its prey, waiting to strike. She’s trying to drive me mad.

Well, she would not succeed. And he'd not leave his future up to chance with Redfern. He needed to take action. Immediately.

Crossing to his desk, he withdrew a sheet of ivory vellum and composed a quick note.

Dear Alberta,

I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed our conversation this morning, and how much I appreciate the efforts you went to on my behalf regarding the Shelbourne ring. Although the ring is gone, I was wondering if perhaps there might have been a ring box? Other pieces in the Shelbourne collection are housed in boxes fashioned specifically for the piece, and it occurred to me that the ring might have had such a box. If so, I would like very much to have that, as a memento.

I would be honored if you would join me for dinner this evening at eight o 'clock. This would give us an opportunity to become better acquainted, and you could bring the box along with you, assuming it exists. I anxiously await your reply.

Yours,

Geoffrey Hadmore

He sealed the letter, then rang for Willis. Handing over the missive, Geoffrey said, "See to it that this is delivered at once. The messenger is to await a reply."

As Willis quit the room, icy determination settled over Geoffrey. Either he or Redfern would get that bloody box. And by this time tomorrow, Mrs. Alberta Brown would no longer be a problem.