It's in His Kiss

by Julia Quinn

  “Oh, I have no worries on that score,” Gregory said with a bland smile. “The real question is—will you be safe with her?”

  It was a good thing, Gareth later reflected, that Hyacinth had already quit the room to fetch her coat and her maid. She probably would have killed her brother on the spot.

  Chapter 11

  A quarter of an hour later. Hyacinth is completely unaware that her life is about to change.

  “Your maid is discreet?” Gareth asked, just as soon as he and Hyacinth were standing on the pavement outside of Number Five.

  “Oh, don’t worry about Frances,” Hyacinth said, adjusting her gloves. “She and I have an understanding.”

  He lifted his brows in an expression of lazy humor. “Why do those words, coming from your lips, strike terror in my soul?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know,” Hyacinth said blithely, “but I can assure you that she won’t come within twenty feet of us while we’re strolling. We have only to stop and get her a tin of peppermints.”

  “Peppermints?”

  “She’s easily bribed,” Hyacinth explained, looking back at Frances, who had already assumed the requisite distance to the couple and was now looking quite bored. “All the best maids are.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Gareth murmured.

  “That I find difficult to believe,” Hyacinth said. He had probably bribed maids all across London. Hyacinth couldn’t imagine that he could have made it to his age, with his reputation, and not have had an affair with a woman who wanted it kept secret.

  He smiled inscrutably. “A gentleman never tells.”

  Hyacinth decided not to pursue the topic any further. Not, of course, because she wasn’t curious, but rather because she thought he’d meant what he’d said, and he wasn’t going to spill any secrets, delicious though they might be.

  And really, why waste one’s energy if one was going to get nowhere?

  “I thought we would never escape,” she said, once they’d reached the end of her street. “I have much to tell you.”

  He turned to her with obvious interest. “Were you able to translate the note?”

  Hyacinth glanced behind her. She knew she’d said Frances would remain far in back, but it was always good to check, especially as Gregory was no stranger to the concept of bribery, either.

  “Yes,” she said, once she was satisfied that they would not be overheard. “Well, most of it, at least. Enough to know that we need to focus our search in the library.”

  Gareth chuckled.

  “Why is that funny?”

  “Isabella was a great deal sharper than she let on. If she’d wanted to pick a room that her husband was not likely to enter, she could not have done better than the library. Except for the bedroom, I suppose, but”—he turned and gazed down at her with an annoyingly paternalistic glance—“that’s not a topic for your ears.”

  “Stuffy man,” she muttered.

  “Not an accusation that is often flung my way,” he said with a slightly amused smile, “but clearly you bring out the best in me.”

  He was so patently sarcastic that Hyacinth could do nothing but scowl.

  “The library, you say,” Gareth mused, after taking a moment to enjoy Hyacinth’s distress. “It makes perfect sense. My father’s father was no intellectual.”

  “I hope that means he didn’t possess very many books,” Hyacinth said with a frown. “I suspect that she left another clue tucked into one.”

  “No such luck,” Gareth said with a grimace. “My grandfather might not have been fond of books, but he did care a great deal about appearances, and no self-respecting baron would have a house without a library, or a library without books.”

  Hyacinth let out a groan. “It will take all night to go through an entire library of books.”

  He gave her a sympathetic smile, and something fluttered in her stomach. She opened her mouth to speak, but all she did was inhale, and she couldn’t shake the oddest feeling that she was surprised.

  But by what, she had no idea.

  “Perhaps, once you see what’s there, something will suddenly make sense,” Gareth said. He did a little one-shouldered shrug as he steered them around the corner and onto Park Lane. “That sort of thing happens to me all the time. Usually when I least expect it.”

  Hyacinth nodded in agreement, still a little unsettled by the strange, light-headed sensation that had just washed over her. “That’s exactly what I’ve been hoping might happen,” she said, forcing herself to reaffix her focus onto the matter at hand. “But Isabella was rather cryptic, I’m afraid. Or…I don’t know…perhaps she wasn’t deliberately cryptic, and it’s just because I can’t translate all the words. But I do think that we may assume that we will find not the diamonds but instead another clue.”

  “Why is that?”

  She nodded thoughtfully as she spoke. “I’m almost certain that we must look in the library, specifically in a book. And I don’t see how she would have fit diamonds between the pages.”

  “She could have hollowed the book out. Created a hiding spot.”

  Her breath caught. “I never thought of that,” she said, her eyes widening with excitement. “We will need to redouble our efforts. I think—although I’m not certain—that the book will be one of a scientific topic.”

  He nodded. “That will narrow things down. It’s been some time since I was in the library at Clair House, but I don’t recall there being much in the way of scientific treatises.”

  Hyacinth screwed up her mouth a little as she tried to recall the precise words in the clue. “It was something having to do with water. But I don’t think it was biological.”

  “Excellent work,” he said, “and if I haven’t said so, thank you.”

  Hyacinth almost stumbled, so unexpected was his compliment. “You’re welcome,” she replied, once she’d gotten over her initial surprise. “I’m happy to do it. To be honest, I don’t know what I will do with myself when this is all over. The diary is truly a lovely distraction.”

  “What is it you need to be distracted from?” he asked.

  Hyacinth thought about that for a moment. “I don’t know,” she finally said. She looked up at him, feeling her brows come together as her eyes found his. “Isn’t that sad?”

  He shook his head, and this time when he smiled, it wasn’t condescending, and it wasn’t even dry. It was just a smile. “I suspect it’s rather normal,” he said.

  But she wasn’t so convinced. Until the excitement over the diary and the search for the jewels had entered her life, she hadn’t noticed how very much her days had been pressed into a mold. The same things, the same people, the same food, the same sights.

  She hadn’t even realized how desperately she wanted a change.

  Maybe that was another curse to lay at the feet of Isabella Marinzoli St. Clair. Maybe she hadn’t even wanted a change before she’d begun translating the diary. Maybe she hadn’t known to want one.

  But now…After this…

  She had a feeling that nothing would ever be the same.

  “When shall we return to Clair House?” she asked, eager to change the subject.

  He sighed. Or maybe it was a groan. “I don’t suppose you’d take it well if I said I was going alone.”

  “Very badly,” she confirmed.

  “I suspected as much.” He gave her a sideways glance. “Is everyone in your family as obstinate as you?”

  “No,” she said quite freely, “although they do come close. My sister Eloise, especially. You haven’t met her. And Gregory.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s a beast.”

  “Why do I suspect that whatever he’s done to you, you’ve returned in kind, and then in tenfold?”

  She cocked her head to the side, trying to look terribly dry and sophisticated. “Are you saying you don’t believe I can turn the other cheek?”

  “Not for a second.”

  “Very well, it’s true,” she said with a shrug. She wasn’t going to be able to car
ry on that ruse for very long, anyway. “I can’t sit still in a sermon, either.”

  He grinned. “Neither can I.”

  “Liar,” she accused. “You don’t even try. I have it on the best authority that you never go to church.”

  “The best authorities are watching out for me?” He smiled faintly. “How reassuring.”

  “Your grandmother.”

  “Ah,” he said. “That explains it. Would you believe that my soul is already well past redemption?”

  “Absolutely,” she said, “but that’s no reason to make the rest of us suffer.”

  He looked at her with a wicked glint in his eye. “Is it that deep a torture to be at church without my calming presence?”

  “You know what I meant,” she said. “It’s not fair that I should have to attend when you do not.”

  “Since when are we such a pair that it’s tit for tat for us?” he queried.

  That stopped her short. Verbally, at least.

  And he obviously couldn’t resist teasing her further, because he said, “Your family certainly wasn’t very subtle about it.”

  “Oh,” she said, barely resisting a groan. “That.”

  “That?”

  “Them.”

  “They’re not so bad,” he said.

  “No,” she agreed. “But they are an acquired taste. I suppose I should apologize.”

  “No need,” he murmured, but she suspected it was just an automatic platitude.

  Hyacinth sighed. She was rather used to her family’s often desperate attempts to get her married off, but she could see where it might be a bit unsettling for the poor man in question. “If it makes you feel better,” she said, giving him a sympathetic glance, “you’re hardly the first gentleman they’ve tried to foist me upon.”

  “How charmingly put.”

  “Although if you think about it,” she said, “it is actually to our advantage if they do think we might make a match of it.”

  “How is that?”

  She thought furiously. She still wasn’t sure if she wished to set her cap for him, but she was sure that she didn’t want him to think that she had. Because if he did, and then he rejected her…well, nothing could be more brutal.

  Or heartbreaking.

  “Well,” she said, making it up as she went along, “we are going to need to spend a great deal of time in each other’s company, at least until we finish with the diary. If my family thinks there might be a church at the end of the journey, they are far less likely to quibble.”

  He appeared to consider that. To Hyacinth’s surprise, however, he didn’t speak, which meant that she had to.

  “The truth is,” she said, trying to sound very offhand and unconcerned, “they’re mad to get me off their hands.”

  “I don’t think you’re being fair to your family,” he said softly.

  Hyacinth’s lips parted with astonishment. There was an edge to his voice, something serious and unexpected. “Oh,” she said, blinking as she tried to come up with a suitable comment. “Well…”

  He turned, and there was a strange, intense light in his eyes as he said, “You’re quite lucky to have them.”

  She felt suddenly uncomfortable. Gareth was looking at her with such intensity—it was as if the world were dropping away around them, and they were only in Hyde Park for heaven’s sake, talking about her family…

  “Well, yes,” she finally said.

  When Gareth spoke, his tone was sharp. “They only love you and want what’s best for you.”

  “Are you saying you’re what’s best for me?” Hyacinth teased. Because she had to tease. She didn’t know how else to react to his strange mood. Anything else would reveal too much.

  And maybe her joke would force him to reveal something instead.

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” he said hotly.

  Hyacinth stepped back. “I’m sorry,” she said, bewildered by his reaction.

  But he wasn’t done. He looked at her squarely, his eyes flashing with something she’d never seen there before. “You should count your blessings that you come from a large and loving family.”

  “I do. I—”

  “Do you have any idea how many people I have in this world?” he cut in. He moved forward, closing in on her until he was uncomfortably close. “Do you?” he demanded. “One. Just one,” he said, not waiting for her reply. “My grandmother. And I would lay down my life for her.”

  Hyacinth had never seen this sort of passion in him, hadn’t even dreamed he possessed it. He was normally so calm, so unflappable. Even that night at Bridgerton House, when he’d been upset by his encounter with his father, there had still been a certain air of levity about him. And then she realized what it was about him, what had set him apart…He was never quite serious.

  Until now.

  She couldn’t tear her eyes from his face, even as he turned away, leaving her only his profile. He was staring at some distant spot on the horizon, some tree or some bush that he probably couldn’t even identify.

  “Do you know what it means to be alone?” he asked softly, still not looking at her. “Not for an hour, not for an evening, but just to know, to absolutely know that in a few years, you will have no one.”

  She opened her mouth to say no, of course not, but then she realized that there had been no question mark at the end of his statement.

  She waited, because she did not know what to say. And then because she recognized that if she said something, if she tried to imply that she did understand, the moment would be lost, and she would never know what he’d been thinking.

  And as she stood there, staring at his face as he lost himself in his thoughts, she realized that she desperately wanted to know what he was thinking.

  “Mr. St. Clair?” she finally whispered, after a full minute had ticked away. “Gareth?”

  She saw his lips move before she heard his voice. One corner tilted up in a mocking smile, and she had the strangest sense that he’d accepted his own bad luck, that he was ready to embrace it and revel in it, because if he tried to smash it, he was simply going to have his heart broken.

  “I would give the world to have one more person for whom I would lay down my life,” he said.

  And then Hyacinth realized that some things did come in a flash. And there were some things one simply knew without possessing the ability to explain them.

  Because in that moment she knew that she was going to marry this man.

  No one else would do.

  Gareth St. Clair knew what was important. He was funny, he was dry, he could be arrogantly mocking, but he knew what was important.

  And Hyacinth had never realized before just how important that was to her.

  Her lips parted as she watched him. She wanted to say something, to do something. She’d finally realized just what it was she wanted in life, and it felt like she ought to leap in with both feet, work toward her goal and make sure she got it.

  But she was frozen, speechless as she gazed at his profile. There was something in the way he was holding his jaw. He looked bleak, haunted. And Hyacinth had the most overpowering impulse to reach out and touch him, to let her fingers brush against his cheek, to smooth his hair where the dark blond strands of his queue rested against the collar of his coat.

  But she didn’t. She wasn’t that courageous.

  He turned suddenly, his eyes meeting hers with enough force and clarity to take her breath away. And she had the oddest sense that she was only just now seeing the man beneath the surface.

  “Shall we return?” he asked, and his voice was light and disappointingly back to normal.

  Whatever had happened between them, it had passed.

  “Of course,” Hyacinth said. Now wasn’t the time to press him. “When do you wish to return to Clair…” Her words trailed off. Gareth had stiffened, and his eyes were focused sharply over her shoulder.

  Hyacinth turned around to see what had grabbed his attention.

  Her br
eath caught. His father was walking down the path, coming straight toward them.

  She looked quickly around. They were on the less fashionable side of the park, and as such, it wasn’t terribly crowded. She could see a few members of the ton across the clearing, but none was close enough to overhear a conversation, provided that Gareth and his father were able to remain civil.

  Hyacinth looked again from one St. Clair gentleman to the other, and she realized that she had never seen them together before.

  Half of her wanted to pull Gareth to the side and avoid a scene, and half was dying of curiosity. If they stayed put, and she was finally able to witness their interaction, she might finally learn the cause of their estrangement.

  But it wasn’t up to her. It had to be Gareth’s decision. “Do you want to go?” she asked him, keeping her voice low.

  His lips parted slowly as his chin rose a fraction of an inch. “No,” he said, his voice strangely contemplative. “It’s a public park.”

  Hyacinth looked from Gareth to his father and back, her head bobbing, she was sure, like a badly wielded tennis ball. “Are you certain?” she asked, but he didn’t hear her. She didn’t think he would have heard a cannon going off right by his ear, so focused was he on the man ambling too casually toward them.

  “Father,” Gareth said, giving him an oily smile. “How pleasant to see you.”

  A look of revulsion passed across Lord St. Clair’s face before he suppressed it. “Gareth,” he said, his voice even, correct, and in Hyacinth’s opinion, utterly bloodless. “How…odd…to see you here with Miss Bridgerton.”

  Hyacinth’s head jerked with surprise. He had said her name too deliberately. She hadn’t expected to be drawn into their war, but it seemed that somehow it had already happened.

  “Have you met my father?” Gareth drawled, directing the question to her even as his eyes did not leave the baron’s face.

  “We have been introduced,” Hyacinth replied.

  “Indeed,” Lord St. Clair said, taking her hand and bending over to kiss her gloved knuckles. “You are always charming, Miss Bridgerton.”