Temptation & Twilight

by Charlotte Featherstone

  Snorting in amusement, Iain shook his head. He’d become a blathering romantic without his Scotch. He didn’t like it, this exposure of his true feelings and dreams.

  Gazing into the window, between the gold lettering, he stared, unseeing, wondering how long it had been since he had allowed himself to think of anything other than drowning his past in Scotch, and the willing body of any woman who would have him.

  The memories numbed him. He no longer wanted that life. It was while facing down death that he’d realized he very much wanted to live. Wanted to love and be loved.

  Now, Iain wondered what had brought him here to Waters and Whites on this cold morning. What had him pausing on his mindless walk through Bond Street to peer into the window of the famous jewellers? He was not in the market, as it were, to buy, but something had made him stop. Something made him want to go in.

  Reaching for the handle, he opened the door. The tin-kle of bells above him rang out clearly, causing the elderly man behind the counter to glance up.

  “Good day, my lord.”

  With a nod, Iain moved into the small shop and began to peruse the glass cases. It was warm inside, with the iron stove in the back pumping out heat. Gas lamps hung suspended from the ceiling, their flickering light radiating onto the glass, making the contents in each case sparkle —a dazzling array in an otherwise bleak, cold day.

  It was several minutes before the shopkeeper came over to him. With a slight cough, he forced Iain’s attention away from the piece that had caught his eye from the window.

  “I am Waters, proprietor of this store. Might I be of some help, my lord?”

  Slowly, Iain’s gaze dropped back to the moonstone necklace that had kept him mesmerized for the better half of five minutes.

  “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Waters murmured. “The finest specimen of adularescence from Ceylon.”

  “Stunning,” Iain replied as the shimmer of the bluish stones reflected in the play of light from the window, and the black satin cloth it lay upon.

  “Do you wish to see it out, my lord?”

  “I do.”

  Waters reached into the case and slowly lifted the necklace. It was large and outlandish, and made for only one type of woman—someone with an expanse of pure, unblemished skin and a magnificent bosom to nestle the large cabochon between her breasts.

  An image of that woman quickly flashed in Iain’s mind as he skimmed his fingers across the gems and the silver filigree that curled like lace around the stones.

  “Adularescence, you called them,” he murmured. “I thought them moonstones.”

  “Adularescence is what we call them in trade, my lord, but they are indeed known as moonstones. Ceylon is the finest place on earth to find them. See how they shimmer a pale blue? One only has to touch, and move, perhaps play with the gems to see the spectrum of glimmer and light and the scale of color, from very faint white to a mysterious blue. Very lovely on a woman’s neck, my lord.”

  “Yes.” Iain swallowed hard. He could imagine Elizabeth in something like this. A dichotomy of ethereal elegance and feminine sensuality. The moonstone was a perfect gem for her.

  “Are you familiar with this stone?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “But it caught my eye from the window as I was passing by.”

  “You’ve a very fine eye, my lord. This necklace is remarkable. It is said that the moonstone was created for a woman to entrap a man. There’s a good bit of mystique and magic that surrounds it. Many cultures the world over, especially in India, regard it as a holy gemstone with magical properties. They call it the dream stone, and the wearer is said to be gifted with beautiful visions the night through. In Arab countries women are known to wear moonstones sewn into their garments, because in their culture they’re a symbol of fertility.”

  “And in the slightly less exotic English culture, Wa- ters?” Iain asked, amused by the man’s enthusiasm for his profession.

  The shopkeeper’s smile was catching as he glanced down at the necklace. “With its soft shimmer, and the way the light playfully, almost sensually changes with the movement of a woman’s neck, I think it the most decadent of stones. It’s a lover’s stone, made to entice a man to follow the tantalizing glimmer over the throat and bosom. Any Englishman worth his salt should be entranced by a woman in moonstones.”

  “And if this Englishman doesn’t want every man to be entranced?” Iain said, with a lilt in his voice.

  “Oh, I think said Englishman could manage to keep the others from his lady. Besides, I think it’s in a man to flaunt his possessions, as barbaric as it sounds. He wants to show off what he has, and what others may only wish to have.”

  “Aye, how true that is.”

  “Any woman can wear diamonds, but it takes the right sort of female to carry off moonstones to their full effect.

  Have you such a lady in mind?”

  He did, and it was insane to even think of purchas-ing something like this for her. Yet he couldn’t imagine another woman in London wearing it; certainly no one could carry it off the way Elizabeth could. With her pale skin, black hair and grey eyes she would be stunning in it, especially with the bodice of that low-cut, twilight-coloured gown she had been wearing at the Sumners’musicale to frame it.

  “I fancy this piece the most,” Waters murmured as he, too, was caught up in the display of light and luminescence. “You’ll think me a sentimental fool for saying this, but I’ve hoped it would someday find its way to the right woman—and man—who can appreciate the beauty of it.” “I’m that man,” Iain muttered. And how he could appreciate not only the necklace, but Elizabeth wearing it.

  “If it is a matter of cost—”

  Iain waved aside the comment. “Cost is of no consequence.”

  “I’ll leave you, then, shall I? To think about the necklace?”

  “Yes.”

  Would she wear it? Would she think it utterly ridiculous that he would buy her something like this? After everything that had happened between them Iain had no right to give her such a thing. A peace offering, his mind said in a hopeful whisper. It was rather elaborate for that.

  But this was Elizabeth. She had always been different from the other women of his acquaintance. There had always been something about her that reached far down inside his soul and touched him where no other person ever had.

  Waters moved silently away, and Iain saw from the corner of his eye how the man was making himself busy arranging a row of diamond and ruby rings in a case that was farthest away from him. Now alone, he was free to lift the necklace and allow it to dangle from his hand.

  The sunlight hit it and he tilted his palm left to right so he could study the shimmering light projected from the stones.

  Elizabeth would be utter temptation in the twilight while wearing this. Irresistible. In his mind, he could visualize the way his fingers would look outlining the stones as they rested against her neck, saw the path of his lips skimming across the necklace, and Elizabeth’s throat. Yes, how erotic it would be to play with her while she wore it.

  “You know how much I adore diamonds,” said a deeply feminine voice from behind him. “Moonstones are so… Well, let us just say that only women wear diamonds.”

  Iain caught Waters watching him with curiosity as he lowered the necklace to the counter and confronted Georgiana.

  “I hope I’m not ruining a surprise,” she murmured as she pressed close to him. “But I thought I might let you know that necklace wouldn’t do for me, darling.” He had to continue the charade, had to make her believe that he was totally besotted with her, when what he really wanted to do was wring her neck.

  “I am dazzled by pretty things, and all things glit-tery, Georgiana. I merely got caught up in the fascina-tion of it, is all.”

  Her smile made him feel as though snakes were slithering over his body. “And do you find me dazzling, my lord?”

  He could not bring himself to say the words, so instead gave a discreet nod, which made her
laugh.

  “Come, you have to see the ring Larabie bought me—a forgiveness gift, you see.”

  Larabie was a fool to part with even a pound of his money on this creature. And what the blazes was his lordship doing, providing her with a gift upon this occasion?

  She had been the one caught in a scandalous embrace!

  Poor Larabie, he was doomed—blinded by his wife and her manipulations.

  Iain almost felt pity for the man, but then, if Larabie wanted to be blind to his young wife’s actions, so be it.

  Iain could never respect a man who allowed his wife to rule him that way. But then, who was he to respect anything, when he lived the way he did? After all, it had been Iain Larabie had discovered in a shadowed alcove with his wife.

  Well, not for much longer, he decided as he dutifully followed the lady’s swaying hips, which were encased in a dark purple satin-weave morning gown. Once he had what he desired from her, he would leave, and she would move on to someone else, and Larabie would be left to fight more duels and provide more tokens of his forgiveness.

  “Mr. Waters, I trust my husband has been by today?” The man inclined his head politely, but Iain noticed how he glanced at him from the corner of his eye with a glint of distaste.

  “Indeed he did, madam. Allow me to run to the back.” Iain noticed that Waters first replaced the moonstones in their nest of black silk before fishing in his waistcoat pocket for a ring of keys to lock the case. They shared an unspoken comment as they looked at one another across the room. Water’s expression, one of betrayal, said, I thought you someone of worth, and now I know you’re not. Iain’s was one of resignation.

  He would not buy this creature anything, he thought as he watched Georgiana bend over the glass cases. She was excitedly showing him which ear bobs and necklace she wanted next—whether from him or her husband.

  Georgiana was the sort of woman who demanded and took. She would not appreciate the idea of a man stopping on the spur of the moment to purchase something he could not stop himself from fantasizing about her wearing.

  Elizabeth, he knew, was never demanding. She would enjoy a gift picked out by someone other than herself.

  There was an intimacy to a man thoughtfully choosing the right piece of jewellery for his woman, whether she be his lover or his wife. Iain found it rather rewarding to peruse the cases in such a fine establishment and choose something that seemed made just for her.

  It would be too easy to have a woman come in and demand this or that, and for him to toss out his calling card and have the bill run up, and his secretary drop off a draft. That would be cold and impersonal, rather like Georgiana herself.

  “Oh, here it comes.” She suddenly squealed with pleasure as Waters emerged from the back room carrying a little red box. “It’s absolutely stunning. I don’t know anything that could top it, except perhaps—” her smile was coy as she gazed back into the case “—that wonderful diamond choker.” She fluttered her lashes, and Iain felt a rise of impatience and annoyance.

  “Madam, your ring.” Waters produced the box and carefully opened the lid with a little creak of the leather.

  Georgiana gasped and squealed again, and Iain forced himself not to roll his eyes.

  The ring was enormous, full of clusters of diamonds, with a large emerald-shaped diamond in the centre. “Its total weight is five carats, correct?” Waters nodded. “Yes, my lady.”

  Slipping it on over her glove, she marveled at its size.

  “Lovely,” she said as she waved her hand about, so the gemstones flashed in the light. “Thousands of pounds, wasn’t it, Mr. Waters?”

  The man cleared his throat, and Iain studied the ring on her finger, feeling curiously devoid of any sort of response. Ostentatious and gaudy, the ring did nothing for him. Nothing like his visions of Beth in that necklace.

  “It was a truly integument gift, Lady Larabie,” Waters agreed with something more of politeness than the lady possessed.

  He could afford to purchase such a ring as that, Iain mused, but what was the point, when it meant nothing? It was just to appease, to toss literally thousands of pounds out the window.

  “I’ll take the moonstones,” he blurted, shocking both Waters and Georgiana.

  “But I don’t like it,” she said with a pout, then seemed to recover as she recalled how she must look to Waters.

  “I mean, I told you that your lady and I have remarkably similar tastes, and if I do not care for the piece, then I’m quite certain she will not, either. I’d hate for you to waste your money on something that will only lie hidden away at the bottom of a jewel box. Or worse, require the inconvenience of a journey back to return it. Now, if you are interested in parting with some of your money, then permit me to suggest that you begin looking at this lovely diamond choker.”

  “Waters, the moonstone.”

  “Well, then,” Georgiana said with a little huff, “I suppose I should be off.”

  “Good day, Lady Larabie.”

  Iain watched her make a grand exit out of the shop and into the carriage that waited on the street for her. He was aware of how Waters watched him as he carefully wrapped up the necklace in a black velvet pouch.

  “Do not fret, Waters, the necklace is going to a lady of rare beauty, exceptional elegance and purity. The harridan who just left will never possess it.” Waters’s smile could only be called sly. “As I said upon your arrival, your lordship has a good eye, and dare I say it, an uncanny instinct.”

  Iain nodded and reached out for the pouch, which was tied with a satin ribbon. Then he handed Waters his card, instructing him to send the bill around that afternoon, and Iain would see he was paid immediately.

  Before Iain was out the door, Waters called out to him.

  “I do hope that I shall one day meet the lady who has been so fortunate as to have you purchase this for her.”

  “I hope so, too, Waters. And then you might have occasion to fit her for my ring.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “I HEAR CONGRATULATIONS are in order.” Slowly, Elizabeth strolled alongside Lord Sheldon, her hand on his arm, as Maggie walked a discreet distance behind them. Jack, Sheldon’s retriever, pranced beside them, his panting interspersed with the sound of his paws crunching the gravel, and the jangle of the lead.

  It was a crisp morning, the wind carrying with it the promise of something more biting by the afternoon. She could almost smell snow in the air, and the remnants of the morning’s cold, clean frost blanketing the grass.

  The breeze whispered against the short bonnet veil she had worn to hide the large bump and bruise on her forehead. Maggie had said her eye was not black-and-blue, but merely shadowed beneath. Still, Lizzy hadn’t wanted to draw any attention to it.

  Vanity and pride, she thought as they walked the quiet paths of Hyde Park. Who knew she had a good measure of both?

  “Yes, they are,” she answered, thinking back to that morning, and Sussex awakening her in bed with the news.

  “How did you hear of it so soon?” Sheldon’s laugh had a rich timbre. “I literally ran into His Grace dashing down the steps of your house, as I was jogging up. He seemed in great haste to get to Lady Lucy’s—or rather his fiancée, as he called her.”

  “Yes, all excitement, I’m sure,” Elizabeth replied neu- trally. Her brother had compromised Lucy last night.

  Lizzy had barely been awake when Sussex had announced the news. The wedding would take place on the morrow—nothing grand, but private, in the salon of Lucy’s father’s—Lord Stonebrook’s—town house in Grosvenor Square.

  While Elizabeth had never doubted Adrian’s success in making Lucy Ashton his bride, she was well aware that her brother’s sense of honour had been shoved to the side, if he had, indeed, compromised her friend as he had stated. She couldn’t help but wonder what Lucy was feeling this morning. Lizzy had been friends with her for only a few weeks, but in that short time they had become very close, each of them sharing intimate secrets with the other.
She had known Lucy long enough to realize she would not look kindly upon a fait accompli marriage. It wasn’t the way either of them would wish to embark upon married life.

  Lizzy had wanted to go with Adrian to see Lucy, but he’d refused, stating only that he needed to speak with her in private, and reassure her that he had not intended for them to be discovered last night—at the House of Orpheus of all places.

  Elizabeth had been quietly stewing as she breakfasted alone. Before Alynwick and his outrageous suggestion of keeping her out of Brethren business, Sussex would have told her the circumstances of how he and Lucy had found themselves at Orpheus’s infamous club.

  But that morning, her brother would not speak of it, only to tell her that he had found Lucy safe, and that they were to be married. “This afternoon, Black and Alynwick are to meet here,” he said. “You can come into my study, Lizzy, and discover the facts then. I must be off.

  I have a special licence to obtain, and a woman to con-vince that marriage to me will be a dream of a lifetime.” Elizabeth had every intention of attending the gathering, but then Lord Sheldon had arrived, requesting that she join him for a walk around the park, and she decided it was silly to sit and stew when the sun was finally shining and a handsome gentleman was requesting she spend some time with him.

  Besides, she and Isabella would be calling on Lucy this afternoon for tea, and she would find out all the details Sussex thought he should deny her.

  “I hope they’ll both be happy,” Sheldon said as he deftly steered them to the left along the curving path.

  “I have no doubt they will,” she answered. Tipping her face to the sun, which had finally chosen to shine, she smiled, basking in the warmth that penetrated the lace.

  “What a lovely day it is.”

  “A bit crisper than yesterday,” he replied, “but all the same, rather refreshing. This will be my first winter back home since I was a child. I can hardly wait to see the snow.”

  Inhaling the cold air, Elizabeth claimed, “You won’t have to wait long, I think. The scent of it is in the air.”