Temptation & Twilight

by Charlotte Featherstone

  Now that it seemed likely she would be cast aside, unable to aid the Brethren, she needed something to do.

  Perhaps focusing all her attention on the diary and the identity of the woman would bring her some measure of accomplishment. At least it would give her something to ponder during the day.

  “Now, don’t fret about a thing,” Maggie was saying, drawing her from her thoughts. “I’ll be in with the tea tray, and I’ll set you up all proper. His Grace has gone into his study, and has asked not be disturbed. I shall attend you, but I’ll sit out of the way while you have your visit.”

  “There really isn’t a need for you to chaperone. I’m quite firmly a spinster.” Besides, it would be terribly uncomfortable to sit through this first visit while her companion watched. It was already going to be damned difficult to entertain, knowing a woman who had been connected to her father—and Sussex—had just been murdered. It was even more disconcerting to know that Lizzy was completely unable to help them in capturing the murderer. Even Lucy had been of some assistance.

  Lucy, who was new in their little group. It had chafed Lizzy a bit, listening to Lucy and Alynwick discussing facts and evidence. Evidence Lizzy could not see. Facts she could not supply, or provide a reasoning for.

  It was not like her to be envious, but that morning she had been, and in truth, still was. That morning she had felt like an outsider. A weakling. And those feelings of inadequacy and disability plagued her still as she stood immobile, regretting her decision to allow Lord Sheldon to call on her.

  “There now, quit wringing your hands in your skirts.

  You’re wrinkling the taffeta. In you go, miss, and lift that chin high.”

  She was thirty years old, she reminded herself. Not some green girl. She did not need to allow herself to sink into melancholy because of hurt feelings. No, she had to stand tall, to be the woman of strength she had always been.

  “Wish me luck?”

  “Luck?” Maggie scoffed as she gently urged her for- ward. “You’ve no need for luck. A woman makes her own luck. Besides, you look absolutely radiant.” Smiling, Lizzy heard the click of Rosie’s nails against the marble floor. With a quiet snick a footman opened the door for her, and she felt the reassuring pressure of Rosie’s muzzle pressing into her thigh.

  “Shall I lend my arm, Lady Elizabeth?” a voice asked in low tones.

  It was her most favoured footman. “Not today, Charles.

  You understand, don’t you?”

  “Indeed, my lady.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Knock ’em off ’is feet.” She would indeed, she thought as she gathered her confidence and breezed into the little yellow salon that was her favourite room in the mansion. The windows faced east, and she liked to feel the sun on her face as she sipped her tea. The colours, she knew, were warm and cheerful, reminding her of a summer’s day, rather like the dress she was wearing.

  Already her spirits were boosted. The sun was out, she realized as she stepped into the room. And he was there.

  She could smell him, the scent of masculinity and shaving soap. He was close, she knew, and when she heard the scrape of a chair against the floor, she realized that he was immediately to her right. She stopped, allowing Rosie’s head to gently nudge her to the left.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Elizabeth.” Lord Sheldon. His voice was soft, mellow, like a fine vintage wine—smooth and decadent.

  She curtseyed and said, “My lord.” Rising, she extended her arm, and he took it, wrapping his fingers around her elbow, steering her across the room to where she felt the curved wooden arm of the settee.

  Lowering herself onto the cushion, she took extra care to look controlled, yet elegant—and not blind. More than anything, she did not want to appear disabled and dependent during this, their first visit. First impressions, she knew, were lasting. It was one thing to stroll about a salon with him, but quite another to get through a proper afternoon call.

  “Astonishing,” he said, and she could hear amaze-ment in his voice. “That little spaniel nudged you along, all the way.”

  Patting the empty cushion beside her, Elizabeth heard the scratching of Rosie’s paws against the chintz fabric.

  Grasping her gently about the middle, she hefted her up, and smiled when Rosie inelegantly flopped down beside her, giving a little sigh of relief, or perhaps annoyance.

  Sheldon joined Lizzy in a laugh.

  “Poor darling, she is in the family way, I am afraid.”

  “I can see that,” the earl replied as he pulled a chair across the floorboards, closer to the settee. “Her time must be soon?”

  “I believe so. Sussex says within the month.”

  “I’ve never seen an animal do such a thing. She was guiding you, wasn’t she?”

  Nodding, Elizabeth dragged her hand through Rosie’s fur. “She was. My brother trained her, and he hopes her pups might be just as agreeable as their mother to this sort of training.”

  “I must speak with him about this. It sounds like a venture that could benefit many. I wonder if he could do anything with my retriever? He’s a dashing fellow, but rather disobedient. Terrible habit of jumping, and breaking lead to go haring off into the forest.”

  “Sussex has a way with animals, that is for certain. I am quite sure he would be more than happy to explain his methods.”

  “I will ask him.”

  “I should like to meet this retriever of yours. He sounds positively naughty.”

  “He is. But he has the most affectionate face. Makes it rather difficult to reprimand him.”

  “I adore animals. They have such perfect instinct, don’t they? And they care for everyone, no matter how many times you scold them.”

  “They do, indeed. Jack, my retriever, travelled with me from Egypt. I’m afraid he’s having some difficulty fitting in. But I hope it will pass soon. And it would be my honour to introduce the two of you. Perhaps you might even teach me how to scold him.” Lizzy laughed. “Not likely. I’m much too inclined to spoil and coddle. Just look at Rosie here, sprawled out on my settee. And worse, she has positively comman-deered Sussex’s leather chair that sits before the hearth in his study. No, I am the last person to teach any amount of discipline.”

  “Well, then, I shall have to try to prevent myself falling victim to his lolling tongue and sparkling eyes. And I will still introduce you, and pray he doesn’t jump up and knock you to the ground.”

  “Oh, I am rather sturdy, my lord. Besides, I’m used to dog hair and sticky licks. I am made of stern stuff, I daresay.”

  “Indeed, I do believe you are, Lady Elizabeth. I detect a steel core in you that few women could boast of.” What a lovely compliment, Elizabeth thought as the salon lapsed into polite silence, broken by Maggie rolling the tea cart into the room. “Tea, Lady Elizabeth.” This would be the test. How would his lordship react when she could not perform the task of hostess?

  “How do you take your tea, Lord Sheldon?”

  “Just black if you please.”

  Nodding, she asked, “And a square, or biscuit?”

  “You know,” he replied, and Elizabeth had the feeling he was not addressing her, but Maggie. “Why not leave this with us, and I shall pour and prepare Lady Elizabeth’s tea?”

  “Why, that’s very good, my lord.” He had won her companion over with that, and was well on his way to winning her, too.

  When Maggie had retreated, Sheldon turned to Elizabeth and asked, “How do you take your tea?”

  “One cube of sugar and a generous dollop of cream, please.”

  “You have a sweet tooth,” he remarked, and she could hear the teasing in his voice.

  “I do indeed.”

  “Now, how shall I do this? Hand the cup to you, or set it on the table before you?”

  Cocking her head to the side, Elizabeth sat silent for a moment.

  “Lady Elizabeth,” he said, and there was a great deal of embarrassment in his voice. “I… Forgive me.”

  “No,” she a
dmonished, her voice soft even to her own ears. “Forgive me. I was just taken aback, is all. It is so very nice to be asked how one should deal with my im-pairment, instead of skirting about it as if it didn’t exist.”

  “I don’t want you burned, and, in truth, I don’t want you to put an end to my call because of my ineptness.” She flushed; she knew she did. Her cheeks must be crimson. “If you will, place a biscuit on the saucer, and the handle of the teacup to my left, and place it in my hands. That would be perfect.”

  He did as she instructed, and she flushed again when their fingers brushed. She heard the catch of his breath—it echoed hers—and a pleasant warmth infused her.

  The air stirred, followed by the sounds of Lord Sheldon settling into his chair and taking his cup and saucer in hand.

  “Darjeeling?” he enquired as he sipped the brew.

  “My favourite. I hope you don’t mind it.”

  “No, of course not. The flavours remind me of the East. When I was in Jerusalem I enjoyed my tea infused with cardamom pods, and a hint of sugar. It is not unlike this Darjeeling.”

  “Oh, it sounds wonderful. When you next come to call I’ll make certain to serve the tea with cardamom.” Lizzy heard him chuckle. “I have a supply at home.

  I shall bring it.”

  “And I’ll provide the tea.”

  “It all sounds very polite, Lady Elizabeth.”

  “Please, call me Elizabeth, or Lizzy. All my closest friends do.”

  “Very well, Lizzy. Then you must call me by name.

  Julian.”

  It suited him, she thought as she carefully raised the delicate cup to her lips. It was a strong name. A very masculine name, with a hint of sensuality to it.

  Be careful, Lizzy, she warned herself, you’re falling too fast. And she needn’t remind herself what happened the last time she’d fallen headlong into something like this.

  “It’s a lovely day today. I wonder how many more can be in store for us with winter approaching?” her visitor murmured.

  “Yes, I can feel the sun shining on my face. Such a treat for November.”

  “November in Egypt is always sunny and hot. Sand- storms are prevalent, as well. The golden sands whirl up in circles and cover every surface imaginable.”

  “Is that just in the desert, or does it reach the cities, too?”

  “Lizzy, I may safely assure you that sand has a way of reaching every nook and cranny—and I do mean every. ” She laughed. “My governess used to have a fit of va-pours when I would come home from the sea. I had an affinity for castles, you see, and thought nothing of plop-ping myself down in the sand to play. Of course, only damp sand will do, and damp sand makes a hash out of ladies’ stockings.”

  The chink of china told her he had rested his cup in the saucer. “I can see you, you know. Sitting in the sand, black hair plaited beneath a straw bonnet, and scoops of brown, wet sand marring your gown.”

  “I wanted to wear britches, but my governess swooned at the thought.”

  “Harridan, weren’t you?”

  “Indeed,” she said with a smile. “Not a perfect young lady as I ought to have been.” Her father had berated her for that, and her mother had pleaded with her to act as she should. But Lizzy had always been of an independent mind. Despite her father’s numerous violent outbursts, she had refused to cower—or cow to his demands.

  “How long have you been in England, Julian?”

  “Only three months.”

  “Do you miss the East?”

  She sensed him shrug, heard the way his toe seemed to tap against the carpet. “I was a small boy when my parents left England. I barely remember it. The East has been my home—it’s what I know best. But I am growing to enjoy England, and London, especially,” he said, his voice dropping, “since strolling with a lovely young woman last night.”

  Her smile, she knew, would appear modest and shy.

  She was flattered and embarrassed, having no experience with compliments. Her one and only dalliance had not been this way. It had been wild and frenzied, full of pent-up longing and animal needs. It had not been polite and flirtatious. The man had been the furthest thing from a civilized gentleman.

  “You said your parents took you there when you were young. What was the lure for them?”

  “My father was a diplomat. Second son, you know, so he needed a career. He loved travel, as did my mother, and different cultures had always been an obsession of his. So he packed us up and moved us to Cairo, where he was the highest ranking diplomat at the British Embassy. It was,” Sheldon said with a fondness in his voice,

  “a childhood that every young boy should experience.”

  “You sound like someone I know,” she said, unable to hide her frown. “All full of adventure and intrigue—but only for boys.”

  Julian laughed. “My apologies, Lizzy. I should have said ‘a childhood any child—male or female—should experience.’”

  “Only if you believe it.”

  There was a pause for a brief, tense second. Elizabeth could not regret what she had said. As a female, she had been left out of too many things in life, things that her younger brother had been entitled to, things he did with Black and Alynwick simply because he was the eldest male of the family. While Adrian had been encouraged to experience the world, she had been expected to stay home and learn how to play the piano and embroider cushions and plan elegant dinners. She hadn’t wanted any of that.

  She’d wanted to don a pair of britches and boots and a billowing white shirt and ride the deserts of the East on a black, glistening Arabian, just as Black and Alynwick and her brother had.

  It was grossly unfair, the limitations that English society put upon the female sex.

  “I have uncovered a truth about you, Elizabeth,” Julian announced. He didn’t sound at all perturbed by it.

  “You’re a feminist.”

  “Not a feminist,” she clarified, “but one who simply believes in equality. There are many females equally capable as any man—at least in heart, drive and intelligence.”

  “I do believe in equality, Elizabeth. For instance, I think it would be perfectly wonderful to have you accompany me to the East, riding beside me in the desert, meeting the tribes, tactfully negotiating peace and trade.”

  “You flatter me, my lord.”

  “No,” he said, and she heard his cup being set on the table. “Not flattery. I’m not one for insincerity. It’s true.

  A man could enjoy so many more facets of the world if he could bring along a partner who suited him in every way. There’s only so much enjoyment to be had with your mates, after all.”

  Flushing, she picked up her biscuit and nibbled on it.

  Lizzy knew what he was referring to, and she knew she was blushing. Yet she could not deny she found his forward way of speaking pleasing. A woman would know where she stood with him. And she respected that. An open honesty.

  “I have not had a conversation like this in… Well, I don’t think I ever have,” Sheldon commented. “At least not with a lady. It’s rather refreshing.” Indeed it was. Their talk seemed so natural, flowing from one topic to another, as if they had been friends for ages, not just new acquaintances. She had quite forgotten to be nervous.

  “Now, then, I know you believe in the equality of the sexes, but what else, Elizabeth? Tell me something about yourself, something no one else knows.” She couldn’t. That would shock him, and most likely turn him away. Elizabeth York was considered an angel among women. She couldn’t very well admit that Lizzy York was a harlot who had risked all for a torrid love affair that had left her ruined and shattered—and disgraced. “I’m a bit of a bookie, I’m afraid. When I possessed sight, I had my nose in a book all the time. Since then, I have my companion, Maggie, read everything to me.”

  “I enjoy reading, as well. Although my skills at reading aloud are a tad rusty. I shall have to practice if I am to impress you at all while reading to you.” She glanced away, despite the fact she
could not see him. He was saying all the right things, making her thoughts fly high and her body warm.

  “When I was younger, I enjoyed anything about the Knights Templar,” she blurted out. Oh, why had she said that? She was quite losing her head!

  He paused, moved his chair closer. “Did you? I have a fondness for them, too. In Jerusalem, I studied them, and came across some evidence that they might possess the Holy Grail.”

  Why had she opened up this discussion? Lizzy asked herself. She must steer him away from it, and any mention of a chalice—or a possible connection to the house of York. The last thing they needed was for Julian to discover that her ancestor had been a Templar, and had been charged with the duty of shielding a chalice from the world.

  “I found some rather interesting information on a golden chalice, and a group of Templars who reportedly were given sacred relics to protect,” Sheldon was saying.

  “In fact, there were three of them, although there are stories that there were actually four. There is a considerable amount of evidence—and speculation—that they had a hand in building the Templar church.”

  “Really?” Her voice sounded strangled, and the biscuit she was nibbling on was turning to dust in her mouth.

  “I’ve discovered a very strong connection to the three Templars and the Temple Church at the Inns of Court.”

  “How interesting.” She had not heard that, about the church. Strange. She wondered if Sussex knew of the connection.

  “In fact,” Julian said, his voice filling with excitement,

  “I have a grant from the British Archaeological Society to investigate the crypts below the church. There’s an array of underground tunnels and networks—so typical of the Templars. I mean to discover the secrets of that church, and the Knights who built it.”