by Amelia Grey
His laughter caused the first crack in her overconfident demeanor. She bristled noticeably. It made him feel damned good to finally see her rattled.
“I’m sorry for laughing, Your Grace.”
She lifted her chin a notch to counter his arrogance. “No, you aren’t.” Her voice was taut and steady. There was a determined set to her lips and genuineness in her eyes that gave him a moment’s pause, but only a moment.
“All right, I’m not. I must admit you have amused me greatly.”
Her stance changed from relaxed to rigid. She didn’t care for what he said anymore than he had liked what she had said. “I wasn’t aware I had the capability to be so humorous, my lord,” she said.
“Then allow me to enlighten you.”
A couple of steps took him close enough to her that he could have touched her if he’d lifted his hands. He caught the scent of freshly washed hair and lightly perfumed skin. His body reacted strongly to her feminine draw.
He expected her to move away from him, but she stood her ground without flinching, and that impressed him all the more. He heard her labored breathing and, for a moment, he watched the rise and fall of her chest. She was so fascinating he found it difficult to concentrate on the matter at hand.
Yet, he couldn’t let her accusation that he had something that belonged to her family go unchallenged. That went against his easygoing nature.
His gaze swept up and down her face before settling on her gorgeous green eyes. Her breaths evened out, and he said, “First, you are certainly bold to walk in here and make such a claim. Second, I’m amused that you were so blunt. If you truly thought I had something that belonged to you, there are nicer ways to say it than, ‘It’s mine and I want it back.’ And third, Duchess, I don’t have anything that belongs to your family. And even if I did have something of yours, I wouldn’t turn it over to you simply because you demanded it.”
He bent his head closer so that his nose almost touched hers. Only a couple of inches separated their mouths. The fragrant scent of mint tea lingered in the air. With great effort, he resisted the impulse to press his lips against hers and feel their softness.
In a husky voice, he said, “And finally, Your Grace, just who the hell do you think you are to imply that I have stolen anything from your family?”
A light blush tinted her cheeks, but she didn’t shrink from his nearness. Rather than his forward advancement intimidating her, she relaxed a little. Just enough to hint that he might have caused her a flash of compunction before she summoned an inner strength to carry her forward.
Her face remained dangerously close to his, but her courage didn’t waver. “Your points are well-taken, and perhaps I should apologize once again. It wasn’t my intention for you to feel I was accusing you of stealing anything from my family. I assure you that is not the case. I merely said you have it in your possession.”
He heard sincerity in her voice, and that gave him some measure of assurance that she wasn’t a madwoman or just trying to trick him. Whoever came up with this scheme had her convinced she spoke the truth.
“What is it that you think I have?”
Her eyes sparkled and softened. “Oh, I know you have them. The Talbot pearls.”
Race’s mouth tightened as his eyes narrowed. His grandmother, Lady Elder, had left him the priceless and coveted necklace in her will. Five perfectly matched strands of pearls, each strand measuring thirty-two inches.
His gaze scanned her face once again, looking for deception. “My grandmother’s necklace?”
“My grandmother’s pearls,” she insisted.
Her courage was impressive, her beauty undeniable, but her assertion was troubling. Her bold gaze stayed locked on his. He appreciated the fact she looked him in the eyes and didn’t cower under his nearness. She obviously wasn’t lying. She actually believed what she was saying.
“Your audacity is almost as priceless as the pearls, but stand in line. You are the fourth person this month to approach me about the pearls. Though, I admit, none have come forward with as creative a claim as you.”
Concern flared in her dark-lashed eyes. “What do you mean?” She reached down and picked up some folded sheets of paper from the table beside her and extended them to him. “I have with me documents proving the necklace belongs to my family.”
Race didn’t offer to take the folded sheets of aged parchment from her. “Interestingly enough, the gentlemen who have come before you are not as clever as you. They are not claiming ownership of the pearls. They are offering to buy them.”
Her fan-shaped brows furrowed, and alarm etched across her face as she took a hesitant step toward him. “Who are these men?”
For the first time, Race sensed anger inside her, and it was seductive. Desire for her filled him once again. He wanted to pull her into his arms, crush her against his chest, and feel her soft, pliant lips beneath his in an eager kiss. He wanted to take her to his bed and unleash the passion he sensed inside her. That thought brought him up short.
He returned his thoughts to the matter at hand and said, “The first person to approach me was Mr. Albert Smith, a one-armed antiquities dealer, who wants them for an unnamed buyer. Does that unnamed person happen to be you, Duchess?”
She scoffed. “Absolutely not. I would never pay for what already rightfully belongs to my family.”
“Then perhaps you are acquainted with Mr. Harold Winston. He is employed by the Prince himself. It seems that Prinny has long had his sights on the Talbot pearls. He wants to add the collar to His Majesty’s Crown Jewels.”
“That’s absurd. The Crown already has more pearls, diamonds, and gems than all other countries put together, including Rome and the Catholic Church.”
“Ah, then that leaves only the mysterious buccaneer, Captain Spyglass, who recently sailed into London on his extravagant ship, The Golden Pearl.” Race tilted his head in puzzled consideration as his gaze settled on her green eyes once again. “I’m told he has mesmerized most of the ladies in Town. Perhaps you have formed an alliance with him?”
“I have read about the man, but know this, my lord, I have formed no alliance with anyone. Moreover, from what I have heard, Captain Spyglass is nothing but an unrepentant pirate.”
“So some say,” Race admitted.
“What does he want with the pearls?”
“No doubt to add to his vast collection. I’m told he’s been acquiring pearls from all over the world and garnering quite the collection, from what I understand.”
“Why is he buying pearls?”
Race bent his head closer to hers, and once again, she didn’t flinch. He had to admit that most everything about her impressed him. She was too intelligent, too sensual, and too confident for her own good.
He eyed her skeptically as he whispered, “Are you sure you don’t know, Duchess?”
“I can tell you only the truth. I have never met, nor have I ever had dealings with Captain Spyglass or any of these men you speak of. These documents prove the Talbot pearls belonged to my grandmother.
They were stolen from her more than twenty-five years ago.”
He refused the papers yet again. He didn’t know if he should believe her about any of the men in question. Though in truth, it hardly mattered. He didn’t know what kind of madcap scheme she had mulling in that pretty head of hers or why she had brought it to his door, but he wasn’t interested.
“I see no significance to your having documents. They can be easily forged to look old or authentic. But know this, Your Grace, there is no way I’m selling the pearls to a one-armed antiquities dealer, a pirate, or the Crown. And I’m sure as hell not going to be bluffed out of them by a beautiful duchess.”
Two
My dearest Grandson Alexander,
What do you think about these wise words from Lord Chesterfield? “Take care never to seem dark and mysterious; which is not only a very un-amiable character, but a very suspicious one, too; if you seem mysterious with others, they will b
e really so with you, and you will know nothing.”
Your Loving Grandmother,
Lady Elder
SUSANNAH BROOKEFIELD, THE DOWAGER DUCHESS of Blooming, had met her match, and he was standing before her, his nose to hers, in all his handsomeness. He was no ordinary man. Everything about him spoke of power, privilege, and wealth. The Marquis of Raceworth was just as she had imagined him: tall, self-confident, pleasing to look at, and terribly spoiled.
Not that she could really hold any of those things against him. Titled men were used to getting their way, but then, she had to admit that so were most titled women, herself included, though she didn’t used to be so headstrong. Sometimes fate caught you unaware and startled you, as happened to her almost a dozen years ago.
Her gaze slowly rose past his clean-shaven chin to lips that were so masculine and so very close to her own that her heartbeat fluttered. She held her breath for a moment before looking into the most intriguing brownish-green eyes she had ever seen.
Susannah had long ago come to terms with her blemished reputation, and she hardly thought about it anymore. It was easy to forget the past when living in the quiet countryside, but here in London, where it happened, those old feelings of weakness and ridicule threatened to descend on her again. She would not let that occur. She would do what she must for her mother, but she would not fall victim to another charming, magnificent-looking man who set her heart to fluttering.
From somewhere deep inside herself, she found the strength to step away from Lord Raceworth and put a little distance between them before she asked, “Do you really think I would be here and subject myself to your scurrilous scrutiny if I was not certain the necklace belongs to my family?”
He gave her an indolent appraisal with his questioning gaze. She stood perfectly still, not saying a word as he studied her once again. She felt no guilt or shame when his gaze lingered for a few seconds on the swell of her breasts before returning to meet her stern stare once more.
“I don’t know, Your Grace, because I don’t know you. I have no idea what you are, or what you are not, capable of.”
Susannah hoped neither of them would have to ever find out. But so much for thinking this man would quietly read the documents, understand that he had stolen property, and calmly return it to her with no fuss or controversy. She could see now that she had been too innocent and had expected too much from this powerful man who looked at her with such intense feeling in his eyes. She hadn’t anticipated his strong attitude, though in retrospect, she should have, considering his title. He obviously wasn’t used to anyone taking him to task.
By the tightness around his mouth, she sensed he was growing weary of their conversation, but how could she give up so easily?
She took a deep breath and asked, “Do you mind telling me how your grandmother came to be in possession of the pearls?”
He took an unfriendly step toward her, once again closing the distance she had put between them. A quickening feeling she didn’t quite understand started low in her abdomen and moved quickly to her breasts. She had to deny his strong appeal and remember the reason she was at his house. Her only interest in him was the pearls.
Not even the furrow on his brow could mar the attractiveness of his high cheekbones, well-defined lips, and his narrow, high-bridged nose. He stood straight, commanding, and powerful-looking. Thick light-brown hair was cropped short over his ears but fell longer and straight at his nape. And even with his elaborately-tied neckcloth and impeccably tailored coat, he somehow managed to look casually sophisticated.
“I don’t feel it’s necessary to assert my claim on them, and since I have no such inclination, I’ll refrain and simply say once again, I do not intend to give up ownership of the necklace.”
His condescension knew no bounds, but she wouldn’t let him intimidate her with his strength. She must fortify herself with thoughts of her mother’s wan face and dull eyes, asking her to go to London, find the collar of pearls, and return them to the family.
Susannah gripped her hands together behind her back, hoping the marquis wouldn’t notice the tension inside her. Coming to London and approaching him about the pearls was not something she had wanted to do. For years, she had fiercely detested London Society with its rigid rules and endless penchant for gossip. The city held nothing for her but heart-wrenching memories she had buried long ago. She had hoped never to return and resurrect them.
“It’s come to mind,” the Marquis said, “that maybe you are mixing the Talbot pearls with the Countess of Shrewsbury’s. Both were extremely rare necklaces, and I believe the countess had possession of both of them at one time.”
She glared at him and then gave him a humorless smile. “I’m sure you don’t really think that I don’t know the difference between the two necklaces.”
He lifted one eyebrow again. “There was reason for hope.”
“I am familiar with the Countess’s pearls, my lord. Her ropes consisted of five strands of perfectly matched pearls, as well, but I believe her ropes were much longer than the Talbot pearls. And she bought them for herself, one pearl at a time, as I believe those who have preserved her account books have authenticated. Last I heard, it was assumed that one of her daughters pawned her pearls for twenty-thousand pounds after her death, and they have not been seen since.”
“You do know your pearls,” he said with no real appreciation in his tone for her knowledge of the subject.
“Obviously, so do you.”
For some reason, Susannah couldn’t let this man get away with his unwavering arrogance. Not yet.
Before leaving, she had to try one more time to get him to look at her proof. She would have to use a different approach, though. Obviously, something as simple as the plain truth and facts were not going to win him over. Perhaps she had been too bold and too outspoken in how she first broached the issue.
Trying to be more affable, she renewed her self-confidence with a deep breath and said, “I believe your grandmother, Lady Elder, left Valleydale to your cousin, the Earl of Morgandale. It borders the Morgandale lands, is that correct?”
A suspicious expression narrowed his eyes once again, and he shifted his stance. His black, fine wool coat stretched perfectly over his broad shoulders and chest. His sky blue waistcoat with its gold-colored buttons fit seamlessly over a flat stomach and enhanced his slim hips. She didn’t know why she noticed everything about him.
“That’s right,” he said cautiously.
“I had occasion to visit her at Valleydale estate shortly after my marriage.”
He continued to eye her warily. His brows furrowed together once again. “You met my grandmother?”
“Yes. Lady Elder was quite famous for her house parties.”
“My grandmother was famous for many reasons.”
Keeping her tone casual and her body relaxed, Susannah said, “Perhaps she was most noted for her long-standing friendship with Lord Chesterfield.”
His expression softened, and he gave her a genuine smile. For some reason, it pleased her that he enjoyed talking about his grandmother. Susannah felt a little hope rising inside her that she might have found a chink in his armor. She had to be careful and not overplay her hand.
“No doubt she regaled you with many stories about the pompous man. She worshiped him and considered him the grand master of teaching a man how to be a gentleman.”
“When I was with her, there was no doubt she was fond of Lord Chesterfield. She quoted him often. It was clear she missed him after his death.”
“You don’t know the half of it, Duchess,” he said on a whispery breath.
“It is because of her that I am so familiar with Lord Chesterfield’s letters to his son.”
Lord Raceworth’s expression turned quizzical. “You read them?”
She nodded. “Most of them, I believe. Though my thoughts are that if his son had still been living when they were first published, the poor man would be horrified to know that everything his father h
ad written to him all those many years was available for anyone to read.”
The marquis folded his arms across his chest and appeared to be studying her once again. “I agree concerning the son, but I think Lord Chesterfield would be pleased to know he lives beyond the grave through his egotistical, posturing letters to his son.”
Susannah smiled at him and realized how wonderful it was to converse with him when they were on a neutral subject. In this composed atmosphere, she found him utterly charming. She considered it a good sign that the marquis was continuing to talk to her and had not yet dismissed her from his home.
“Your other cousin, the Duke of Blakewell, recently married. I read in the Times that his duchess is a lovely young lady, new to London, I believe.”
The marquis stepped closer to her again. His head dipped lower, bringing his lips almost to the point of touching hers.
A tempting, roguish grin lifted the corners of his lips. Her breathing became shallow, and her heart thudded wildly in her chest as he whispered, “All true, Your Grace, but telling me how much you know about my grandmother and my cousins and even Lord Chesterfield and his letters does not tell me anything about you.”
If possible, Susannah planned to keep it that way, but looking at him now, she knew it wouldn’t be easy. His brownish-green eyes turned dark and dreamy. Susannah’s stomach tightened. Somehow, she must fight her immense attraction to him.
Perhaps this was the time to leave. He probably wanted time to look into this matter about the pearls for himself. She had no doubt that he would inquire about her before they met again. And they would meet again. Something told her he was not a man to let a claim such as hers hang in the air unresolved for too long.
She had learned a lot in the years since her husband had died. Other than independence, the main thing she had mastered was when to back away from an argument and return another day, refreshed.
