by Sara Ramsey
He was feeling something intensely — whether it was worry or excitement, she didn’t know.
“I doubt anyone shall decipher the language,” she said during a break in the conversation, before the twins flirted with him again. “You’d be better rewarded spending your money on your estate.”
The statement came out all wrong, with more judgment and bitterness than she had intended. Alex frowned. “My estate has never suffered because of my collection, Miss Etchingham. Besides, I thought you would understand the appeal of a scholarly pursuit.”
If the rock were real, she would be intensely interested in it. “I see the appeal, of course. But we must all become adults. Perhaps you should reconsider your interests.”
Something flashed in his eyes. He stroked the palm of his hand again. “I wish I could have such a simple view of the world.”
“Better a simple view of the world than a foolish one,” she snapped. “At least I am smart enough not to chase a fantasy.”
“Better to chase a fantasy than settle for less than you deserve,” he retorted.
Their eyes met, and held, for far longer than either of them likely wanted. But Prudence couldn’t look away. There was such a depth of feeling in his lovely brown eyes — eyes that made her feel hot and cold all at once. He looked at her like he wanted her to know him, like his soul was a garden he invited her to walk in. And, Heaven help her, she wanted to know him.
No. She wanted to forget him. She turned her attention to Madeleine. “Are you ready for your ball tomorrow?”
Madeleine’s green eyes were moving back and forth between Alex and Prudence as though she had noticed something about them that had escaped her attention before. Prudence willed her face to be perfectly still, hoping to keep her friend from guessing her secrets.
But the transition had been too abrupt and the duchess was too perceptive. “I shall be glad when it is over and we will have time for a proper conversation,” Madeleine said.
Damn. Ellie already knew about Prudence’s feelings for Alex, and now Madeleine seemed well on the way to guessing. Could the night be any worse? She hoped that she could plead a headache after the auction and miss the celebratory supper. She no longer felt like gloating.
She felt like throwing everything into a valise and taking the next mail coach out of the city, before the world she’d constructed collapsed around her.
As it happened, though, the night could always be worse. Thorington strolled up, a glass of champagne in one hand and a glass of lemonade in the other. “Here, my dear,” he said, thrusting the lemonade at her. “You are looking too fatigued for champagne.”
The twins gaped.
Madeleine gaped.
Alex looked like he wanted to punch the duke in the face.
Prudence frowned, but she took the lemonade — she could hardly leave him standing there with it. Especially when she suspected he would force her to take it if he wanted to.
“I thank you, your grace, but there’s no need for concern,” she said. “May I introduce you to my friends?”
“No,” he said. “Will you walk with me?”
Kate and Maria gasped in unison. He bowed to them, but the mockery in the gesture was clear. “Please don’t take offense, my dears,” he said, using the endearment as indiscriminately with them as he did with her. “But you are safer not knowing me.”
They exchanged a look. Prudence saw some scheming intention that reminded her how closely they were related to Ferguson and Ellie. Alex had other matters on his mind. “Miss Etchingham would be safer as well. We all would. I suggest that you find another circle to impose your conversation upon.”
“You aren’t very safe to be around yourself, Salford, even if you are a dull one. Shouldn’t you be holed up in your study?”
Alex didn’t twitch, but his eyes turned deadly. “The lady doesn’t wish to be acquainted with you, Thorington. Leave us, before I must make a scene.”
Alex was right — she didn’t want to be acquainted with Thorington. But he’d done it again — answered for her before she could slip a single word into the conversation. He’d asked for a week, but that time was almost up, and with absolutely no indication of what he would do at the end of it.
And Prudence was done with others making decisions for her.
“Just a few words with the duke will do, I think,” she said, pushing both her lemonade and her champagne into Alex’s hands. “Since he asked so prettily.”
Alex’s eyes said he wanted to do violence to her person, but his hands closed over the glasses instead of her throat. “Don’t go on the balcony with him, no matter what he says,” Alex warned. “Or out of the room in any direction, for that matter.”
“You wound me,” Thorington said. He tossed his champagne down in one go and held the empty glass out imperiously until a footman rushed over to retrieve it. “I can ruin the lady in plain sight. I don’t need a dark garden to accomplish it.”
The twins gasped again. This was surely a better show than anything their Italian music master had given them. Madeleine, though, was concerned enough to grab her arm. “Do you want me to escort you?” she asked.
Prudence hadn’t told any of her friends about Thorington’s proposal — she was sure he would abandon it, and it was too absurd for words. But she knew, then, that their engagement was the only topic of conversation the duke would pursue. She shook her head. “I won’t leave the room. If his grace tries to abscond with me, send a rescue party.”
It was a jest that should have drawn laughter. But her party was entirely silent as they watched her walk away.
Thorington wasted no time. “Have you decided to accept my offer?”
“No, your grace.”
Her voice was as flat and final as she was capable of being. The duke was either the most tone-deaf person in England, or he simply did not give a fig for anyone else’s plans.
“Do you think you require another day to decide, or another week?” he asked. “My hothouse will run out of roses if you continue to ignore me. More importantly, I should like to be married at St. George’s in Hanover Square, and even with three weddings a day the church’s schedule fills as the Season draws closer to its end. We shall be married by special license, so there’s no need to wait for banns to be read. But the venue is a consideration.”
It was not lost on her that she’d abandoned Alex for making a correct assumption about her desires, only to talk to Thorington about plans for a wedding she did not want. “I am not going to marry you,” she said through gritted teeth.
“You will,” he predicted. “When you see that I have more of everything than Salford has, you will make the only choice you have. Especially when you finally realize that he is never going to offer for you.”
“Do you think your title and your wealth are all that I might care for?” she asked. “Did it not occur to you that I might want warmth, and conversation, and someone who asks for my opinion rather than my blind obedience?”
She’d never voiced what she wanted in a husband before, but she knew, instinctually, that the duke wasn’t a candidate. But Thorington shrugged. They had stopped next to the pedestal on which her rock sat — the rock he didn’t know she was responsible for. He reached out a finger and drew it over the Egyptian characters, then trailed it down to the Aramaic letters below. The footmen behind it stayed impassive. They wouldn’t stop the Duke of Thorington unless he tried to steal it. Even then, they might hesitate.
When he spoke, his voice was as cool as the stone and just as indecipherable. “I want those things as well. But I will settle for protecting myself.”
Then he turned his green eyes on her. He looked ancient, suddenly, as though he knew more about the human heart than anyone else — as though the knowledge was too much for him. “You will settle too, Miss Etchingham. For protection. And for revenge. Send for me when you know it.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Alex shouldn’t have spent a week marshaling his finances. He should h
ave spent it learning Aramaic so that he could have read it on sight. It stood in front of him, the answer to all his prayers, offered up on red velvet like the bloody crown jewels.
But it was just as indecipherable as ever. And the bidding was going higher than he had expected. “Eight thousand pounds,” Thomas Hope called out from the back of the room.
Ellie’s husband Nick had been dragooned into playing the auctioneer. “Is there an offer for eighty-one hundred?”
Alex raised his hand. Nick acknowledged the bid with a nod. “Does anyone offer eighty-two hundred? I’m sure someone will find it a good value to buy a single rock instead of an entire farm’s worth.”
His sarcasm elicited a laugh from those who were there merely to enjoy the spectacle. Ellie had invited at least sixty guests, but only a handful had the resources or the desire to buy the stone.
Thorington covered his mouth, yawned, and then raised his hand.
The bids went higher, then higher still. Alex stayed calm, detached, striving to look amused. Mr. Hope eventually dropped out, as did Soane and a representative for Lord Elgin. But Alex and Thorington were still committed to the battle they’d been locked in for a decade.
“Twenty thousand,” Alex said.
The crowd gasped. The previous bid had been sixteen. But he wanted to end this. He could go to twenty-five. He didn’t think that Thorington could go higher, unless the curse had given him an unusually large influx of hard money in recent weeks.
Thorington looked over at him. There was something in his eyes that reminded him of the old Gavin — something sad, but still determined. If Alex broke the curse, would it give Thorington a chance to become the man he should have been?
Nick turned to Thorington. “Do you wish to bid?”
Thorington flipped open his watch and checked the time. “I grow tired of this. Fifty thousand pounds.”
The crowd gasped again, louder this time. But the only gasp he heard was Prudence’s. He looked over, even as he knew the gesture might betray him. All the color had leached from her face. Her hands were balled into fists at her side, and she swayed slightly on her feet as though her knees were locked.
He thought it odd, but somehow sweet — she didn’t want him to lose.
“Salford?” Nick asked.
He closed her eyes. He’d failed her. He had failed them both.
“I’m out,” he said.
“Many congratulations, Thorington,” Nick said, smiling as the crowd clapped. “I hope your heirs someday appreciate their good fortune when they inherit this.”
The crowd laughed. Some of them whistled. Thorington accepted Nick’s ribbing with unusually good grace. Everyone moved to offer him their own congratulations, even those who would usually avoid him. The amount of his bid was simply so audacious that no one could stay away from him.
Some stopped by Alex on their way to Thorington and offered their condolences. But none of them truly cared about what had happened, beyond the titillation they felt at being bystanders to such an event. They would gorge themselves on the supper provided by Ellie’s excellent chef, drink all of the wine stocked by her butler, and then spread wild tales about the auction in the morning.
As soon as he could escape, he went to Prudence. She hovered near the far wall, immune to the magnetic pull of Thorington’s victory. “Are you feeling well?” he asked quietly.
She looked up at him. There was something in her brown eyes that he hadn’t seen before — something like guilt, which made no sense whatsoever. But whatever it was, the vitality he usually saw there was crushed by the darker feelings she labored under.
Had he caused this, by seducing her and then avoiding her? At the time, it had seemed better than losing her to Thorington. But he hadn’t won the auction. He had made a bet with her heart, and he had lost.
She didn’t know that, though, so her odd sorrow must be about something else. “I have a headache, I think,” she said.
Her lie was transparent. He couldn’t keep himself from asking the obvious question. “Are you going to marry Thorington?” he asked.
She didn’t respond. “Do you think your coachman would take me home? I really am not feeling well.”
“I shall escort you, if you wish.”
The way she avoided his gaze was answer enough. Her words were more circumspect. “I’m sure I don’t wish to interrupt your evening, my lord.”
My lord. Not Alex.
It might never be Alex again.
He was angry, suddenly, letting the rage burn through the shock of losing. “I will take you home,” he said, his voice turning authoritative. “But will you grant me a favor first?”
“What is the favor?” she asked warily.
“Will you distract Thorington? If I can take a rubbing of the stone before he removes it from the house, it won’t matter so much that I lost.”
Prudence scowled. “You cannot do that, not with the guards standing there. And I cannot distract Thorington well enough to stop everyone else from noticing you unless I kiss him in front of the whole room. Do you wish for me to do that?”
“Never,” Alex said. And he meant it. Even to give himself the chance to marry her, he wasn’t sure he could bear seeing Thorington’s mouth on hers. “But I must know what that stone says.”
“Why does it matter so much to you?” Suddenly she sounded irritable, as though his voice chafed her. “Can you not at least be glad that you didn’t waste fifty thousand pounds on a mirage?”
“Why do you think it is a mirage?” he asked. “I know that the Rosetta Stone has not yielded the results we had all hoped, but surely this can help.”
She closed her eyes. “Can we discuss this at home? If you insist on a discussion, of course. I would much rather discuss anything else.”
Something was wrong. This wasn’t the Prudence he knew. The Prudence he knew would be excited by an interesting bit of history, not in denial of its importance. The Prudence he knew would be cheerful, not irritable.
He was going to lose her. Just as he had lost the rock. Just as he had lost his father. Just as he continued to lose everything but his studies. It was the fate he had condemned himself to.
He didn’t have to lose her tonight, though. “Let’s go home,” he said, offering her his arm.
* * *
Fifty thousand pounds. Thorington had paid her fifty thousand pounds.
As betrayals went, she had been handsomely rewarded. Fifty thousand pounds was better than thirty shekels of silver. But she would surely go to hell for it.
They hadn’t discussed the stone on the way back to Salford House. The carriage ride passed in silence, with Alex brooding over his loss and Prudence brooding over her win. But when they walked into the house, Alex placed a hand on her shoulder. “Will you take a drink with me?” he asked. “I know you do not feel well. But I would like to ask a favor.”
There was nothing she could say to make him feel better. Unless she told him the truth…unless she told him that he had bid on a chimera, not a prize.
She couldn’t think about it. “Not tonight.”
“Please,” he said.
He never pleaded.
She sighed and held out her hand. He escorted her down the hall to his study. They should have left the door open, as they would be expected to. Tonight, though, he closed it.
“I know I don’t have any right to ask this,” he said, waving her into a chair as he walked to the decanters. “But I need your help.”
She sat, perfectly still and upright on the settee she had always wanted to lounge on. “I doubt there is anything I can do to help you, my lord.”
He poured a single glass of sherry, which he handed to her before taking his own seat. Oddly, he chose to share the settee with her rather than sitting behind his desk — an intimacy she would have craved if she didn’t know better.
“I need a rubbing of that stone,” he said. “You’re the only person who can help me get it.”
She set her sherry on th
e table. “I doubt Thorington will give me a copy of the stone even if I ask for it.”
“There are other ways. Ellie surely made a full copy. She is more likely to give it to you than she is to me. Or perhaps you can arrange a time to meet Thorington, and I can break into his study while he’s out…”
Her horrified laugh cut him off. “You cannot break into Thorington’s house.”
“I’ve done it before,” he said, shocking her. “I suspect he’s searched my study as well. We tend to keep abreast of each other’s collections. But I’m not stealing anything. And it doesn’t matter to him if I take a rubbing of the stone.”
It sounded suspiciously close to how she had rationalized her forgery. He surely knew that Thorington would be livid if Alex tried to copy it. And yet something drove him that was more important than any moral code.
“Why do you care so much?” she asked. “I’ve never known you to be so obsessed over something.”
He looked her over. “I have been obsessed over things other than that rock, Prudence.”
Her Christian name was back on his lips. She frowned. “You should leave the rock be. Be glad you didn’t waste such an awful sum on it.”
“You don’t understand,” he said. He rubbed his thumb over his scar. “I must know what that stone says. And I will do anything within my power to get it.”
He looked haunted, with his skin taut over his cheekbones and the firelight casting shadows over his eyes. And she had done this to him — used an object from his own collection to start the forgery. She wondered, again, what the dagger meant to him.
She could leave him to wallow in his obsession. She could leave him to chase a fantasy. She almost wanted to — he’d done the same to her, coming to her room and then ignoring her.
But in the end, she couldn’t be that cruel. “I might be able to procure a copy for you,” she said.
“Do you know that one exists?”
There were three copies in her bedroom. She looked away. “Ellie promised me one.”
It was odd, how the energy in the room changed. He had seemed despondent before, but now he was flying high, eager, excited. “Shall we go back there? We can cool our heels in her drawing room until the supper is over, if you don’t feel like eating.”
