“Your hair is too beautiful to cut… It gives you the look of some mystical creature, luring men to the depths, a siren or mermaid, perhaps.”
Abbi smiled, blushing at the praise. “You are quite fanciful, my lord.” The formal address was uttered in a teasing tone, and his answering smile told her that he took it as such.
“I have a vivid imagination,” he agreed, “And of late, you have been featured in most of my fantasies. They are not lyrical though, or allegorical. They are wholly carnal and infinitely pleasurable… Perhaps tonight, when we return home, I will share one or two with you.”
The statement accompanied by a kiss on her bare shoulder that had her shivering. “I would like that very much.”
Reluctantly, Michael rose from the bed. “If I don’t leave now, I won’t…and I promised Rhys and Emme that we would join them for dinner tonight.” He retrieved his discarded clothing, which had become damp and wrinkled. He donned only his breeches. He carried the clothing over to the bed, rifling through the pockets of his horribly abused jacket, before producing a slim box. “Most of the family jewels are stored in a vault at the solicitor’s office. I will retrieve them for you later, but this... I had this tucked away here for sentimental reasons. This necklace was favored by my mother. I would like for you to wear it tonight.”
Abbi opened the box. It was a delicate piece, an airy confection of diamonds and pearls festooned with tear drop shaped rubies. It was one of the loveliest pieces of jewelry she had ever seen, and he presented it as if he feared she would snub it. Lifting the necklace from the box, she traced her fingers reverently over the delicate setting and the precious stones. “It’s beautiful… I’ve never seen anything more lovely.”
“Yes,” he agreed, but he was looking at her and not at the necklace. The moment stretched between them until at last he turned and left the room.
~*~*~
Abbi wore the same crimson dress that Michael had given her prior to their evening at Whitby Hall. Sarah had twisted her hair back into the Grecian style and then left several loose strands to cascade over her shoulder in loose curls.
Her mother’s pearls had been woven into her hair and pinned in place. She wore the necklace Michael had presented to her earlier. The weight of it was unfamiliar on her neck, and it reminded her of him and the pregnant moment that had passed between them earlier in the day. When she thought of it, her mind would invariably turn to the musings of Lady Westerbrook. The tiny sliver of hope that conversation had sparked was quickly building to a storm inside her. She had never been one to give her emotions free rein.
The drive to Upper Brook Street was a short one, as their home was only a few blocks away. The town home of the Duke of Duchess and Briarleigh was grand even beyond the home of her husband. It dominated the street and the butler who admitted them was so painfully proper that Abbi felt immediately out of place. Even in her dress, which she knew was flattering, and with the confidence afforded her by the jewels that winked at her neck, she was not prepared to face down the highest echelons of society.
“Michael!”
Abbi looked at up at the squealed greeting and saw the incredibly beautiful Duchess of Briarleigh racing towards them. It was no mean feat as she appeared to be heavily pregnant, as well. Her rounded belly did not detract from her appearance at all. Her skin glowed with health and vitality. Her dark hair was dressed in loose curls, and her pale gray eyes gave her an ethereal quality.
Michael laughed in response and hugged her when she reached him. As she watched, he placed a hand on the swell of the other woman’s belly. Jealousy reared its ugly head again.
“Emme, I swear that you have swallowed a pony!”
She smacked at his hand, “You are as insufferable, as ever…Now, introduce me to your wife so I may warn her about all your bad habits.”
He grimaced, “Please do not. I fear she’s heard quite enough already.”
“Michael, my threat to shoot you for putting your hands on my wife still stands,” Lord Rhys Brammel, Duke of Briarleigh, said as he entered the room. In spite of the rancorous nature of the words, they were said with a smile and lacked any real heat.
Emme stepped forward to greet Abigail and said, “Ignore their banter. While it sounds ferocious, it is quite harmless. I’m Emme, and it is truly a pleasure to meet you.”
In spite of her earlier, irrational jealousy, Abbi liked her immediately. “Thank you, and it’s a pleasure to meet you, as well.”
Another woman appeared on the stairs then. She was younger but so beautiful that Abbi found it hard to look away from her. With Titian hair and wide blue eyes, there was a slight similarity in bone structure to the duchess. Any similarity ended there, however. Whereas the Duchess had been exuberant and obviously happy, there was a sadness clinging to the younger woman, a wariness in her. Abigail knew she'd endured something horrific.
“My sister, Miss Larissa Walters,” the Duchess of Briarleigh said. As the younger woman reached the bottom of the stairs, her sister put her arm about her somewhat protectively. Her smile faded just a bit and a worry crept into her gaze. “Though I must insist that you call me Emme and her Larissa. We do not stand on formality here.”
Abbi held her hand out to the young woman, “I'm pleased to make your acquaintance.”
The girl looked at her, hesitated for a moment, and then took her hand. As they shook hands, a smile began to spread over the young woman's face.
“Oh, I like that you've given him such difficulties. He needs it,” Larissa said with a slight laugh. With that odd statement and another warm smile, she moved away to greet Michael and her brother in law.
Puzzled by her, Abbi couldn't stop the frown that furrowed her brows. Sensing her distress, the Duchess spoke.
“Larissa and I come from a very unusual family... Please don't think her too odd. And if you are giving Michael a hard go of it, then cheers, for he could certainly benefit from it!”
As the party moved into the drawing room, the Duke addressed them together, “Spencer—forgive me, Lord Wolverston, will be arriving shortly.”
Abbi, her hand resting on Michael's arm, felt the tension in him and noted the tightening of his jaw. “Is there a problem with you and this Lord Wolverston?”
Michael shook his head. “Not a problem, really. We're friends though we do occasionally, or perhaps always, butt heads.”
They'd barely settled into the drawing room, Abbi next to the Duchess while her sister seated herself at the pianoforte. Michael and the Duke were conversing by the fire, their ease with one another a clear indication of their long friendship. Abbi had no friends. Lavinia had alienated nearly everyone when they were younger, and without a season, there'd been no opportunity to meet anyone with whom she might form a friendship. It was no an enviable position to be in. It left one distinctly vulnerable.
The doors opened and another man entered. He was not announced as the small gathering was shockingly informal. He stood inches above the other men in the room, the breadth of his shoulders blocking the entire doorway. The soft sigh that escaped Larissa would have been inaudible to anyone else, but as Abbi was closest to her, she couldn't ignore it. A glance at the young woman showed a blush staining her lovely cheeks and her head ducked down. So that was the way of it, she thought.
Lord Wolverston approached them, and Emme rose to hug him. He looked, Abbi thought, uncomfortable with the affection. It was not unwelcome by him, but it did appear that he was unaccustomed to it.
Emme turned slightly, her hand moving toward Abbi in an elegant gesture. “Spencer, I am very pleased to introduce Lady Abbigail Sutherland, Viscountess Ellersleigh.”
Lord Wolverston's eyes widened, his eyebrows arching upward in surprise. “I'd heard rumors, but never imagined they might be true.”
Emme's eyes narrowed. “Play nicely or you'll regret it.”
The large man's face colored perceptibly. “My apologies, Lady Ellersleigh. My remark was indicative only of my surprise and not at a
ll toward your worthiness... or your husband's, though I daresay he got the better end of the bargain.”
Abbi wasn't quite sure what to make of him, but she was saved by responding by the Duchess rolling her eyes heavenward.
“For goodness sake! The two of you are like children... always sniping at one another just for attention. Now, go join them and behave or I swear I'll make you regret it.”
Abbi noted that as Spencer turned away, his gaze caught on Larissa, held for just a moment, and then with the slightest of nods, he excused himself to join Michael and the Duke. Curious, Abbi couldn't stop herself from asking, “Are you sure that he and Michael are friends?”
Emme grinned. “Without a doubt... Either one would lay down their life for the other, but they're both entirely too proud to admit it. Spencer is judgmental and none too civil about it, and Michael responds to criticism the same way he responds to most things... with a wink and a smile. But they have a history together that far outweighs any petty animosity.”
It appeared slightly more than petty, but Abbi refrained from correcting her.
Despite any tension between Michael and Lord Wolverston and despite Lady Larissa's preoccupation with the most recent addition to their group, the evening progressed in an easy manner. It was filled with pleasant banter and much laughter. It was only after they had moved into the dining room and the meal was drawing to a close that the conversation turned serious.
Michael revealed the events that had surrounded Lord Allerton’s death, including his suspicions that Lavinia and Rupert were involved in even more nefarious dealings. He also relayed the information he had uncovered at Whitby Hall regarding the state of their finances and where it seemed that the vast majority of their wealth had gone.
Rhys considered the matter for a moment before adding, “I seem to recall that the former Lord Whitby was involved in some sort of scandal related to ancient artifacts of a somewhat questionable nature.”
“Questionable?” Spencer said, his tone skeptical. “The man is—.” He stopped there, his lips firming into a thin, hard line. “This isn't a discussion to have in the presence of any lady, but specifically not an unmarried one.”
For the first time that evening, Abbi saw a hint of fire in the young woman. Her head came up, her blue eyes leveled a glacial stare at the slightly pompous man.
“Thank you for your concern, Lord Wolverston, but I assure you nothing that is said in here will be shocking to my already abused sensibilities. Continue, Lord Ellersleigh.”
Every person in the room grew uncomfortably quiet, watching the now silent battle of wills between a young girl and a man who dwarfed her in every way. After several interminable seconds, he sighed heavily and looked away, offering a curt nod to Michael.
Abbi exhaled the breath she'd inadvertently been holding. It was glaringly apparent that both parties were equally obstinate but pompous as he was, Lord Wolverston' was obviously as enamored of Larissa as Larissa was of him. She would be talking to Michael about that later. Perhaps some artful goading would put both of them on the right path.
~*~*~
Michael ignored the tension between Spencer and Larissa. It wasn't the first time he'd noticed their odd behavior toward one another Whatever it was, he'd let them sort it out. He'd played matchmaker for Rhys and Emme, but he imagined that Spencer would be less than pleased with any interference on his part.
With a concerned glance at Larissa, he elected to continue the explanation. While she might be an unmarried woman, she was hardly an innocent. Her life had taken some unexpected turns that had left her with far more knowledge of the evils in the world than a young woman should ever have. He explained, “Erotica… Ancient carvings and texts of an especially explicit nature. There were many ancient cults that utilized sexual acts as part of their rituals. Those held a particular interest for him, I believe. It appears that interest has been passed down to the current Lord Whitby and, by association, Lady Lavinia.”
“But it seems they aren’t just collecting the artifacts,” Abbi said, “They are also recreating the rituals themselves.”
Larissa spoke then, “They are not alone. There are many people involved in this. At least a half dozen more.”
Abbi wanted to question her, to ask how she could possibly know that. But the conversation continued around them, Larissa's assertion accepted so easily that Abbi found herself wondering what sort of household she'd been brought to.
“What do they hope to gain from this?” Rhys asked.
Michael shrugged. “What did the Hellfire Club get out of their activities?”
It was Emme who took that particular point and expanded on it, “Many people believe that objects of significant age, particularly those with violent histories, also have power.”
“Metaphysically speaking?” Abbi clarified.
Spencer made a sound that perfectly illustrated his opinion of their beliefs. “It's naught but myths and stories! They're obviously mad.”
“They may very well be mad, Lord Wolverston, but it doesn't mean what they are invoking isn't real,” Larissa said. “The evil they are engaging in certainly has enough dark energy about it to stir up very nasty things.”
Emme nodded her agreement, but her concern was clearly for the newcomer in their midst. She spoke directly to Abbigail, “I know many people have difficulty believing in things they cannot see, but there are forces in this world—,” Emme began.
Michael interrupted her. “You needn’t explain, Emme. Abbi and I both have more than a passing acquaintance with the supernatural. I forgot to mention with the wealth of other information imparted that Blagdon Hall has a resident ghost, one who appears to act as a guardian and warns of impending danger,” Michael said.
Rhys looked at Emme and said with finality, “You are not going. Not now, at any rate.” He glanced down the table at Larissa, “And you aren't either.”
Larissa said nothing, simply drank her wine and nodded slightly.
Emme smiled, “Of course not! But after the baby is born, if you’d like, Michael, I’d be happy to visit Blagdon Hall and find out what I can.”
Michael nodded and in response to Abbi’s quizzical look, explained, “Emme has the rather unique ability to communicate with spirits, much more directly than any of us.”
Abbi accepted that bit of information with aplomb, “That must be quite frightening at times. I am quite happy that my only encounter with spirits, thus far, has been the Gray Lady… But I had heard stories of her and knew her to be a benevolent spirit long before I ever saw her. Am I to assume then, that Larissa has some ability as well?”
Larissa spoke then, “My abilities are a bit harder to explain. I see both the past and the future... but only glimpses and usually not very useful information, at that.”
Abbi was still processing that when the Duke spoke.
“So, what is your next step?” Rhys asked.
Michael sighed, “I will pay a visit to the more questionable dealers and see whom Rupert and Lavinia have utilized the most, and find out what items they have expressed interest in procuring.”
“Emme and I are returning to Briarwood Hall day after tomorrow, but Spencer is remaining in tow.”
“And is bored to tears. A bit of adventure is just what I need,” Spencer added. “I'd be delighted to assist you and your lovely bride.”
“If you can refrain from killing one another in the process,” Rhys added nonchalantly, but it was clear from his expression that the rift between his two friends concerned him.
Michael grimaced but didn’t refuse the assistance. Spencer was a good man to have on hand in a fight, it was the lectures that preceded it that bothered him the most.
The remainder of the evening passed in a similar fashion. They made plans for the following day which included Rhys and Michael visiting the antique dealers in the afternoon. The morning would be spent seeing to Abbi’s wardrobe. As they left the palatial home, stepping out into the mist-shrouded night, Abbi allowed
Michael to assist her into the carriage.
Once he'd climbed in beside her, she began to ask questions. “What on earth is going on between Lady Larissa and Lord Wolverston? The tension between them is thicker than this fog!”
Michael glanced at her in surprise before laughing. “Larissa has a girlish infatuation and Spencer, as ever, is being an honorable gentleman.””
“Larissa is hardly a girl...and I promise you, his actions might be gentlemanly, but his thoughts are anything but.””
Michael frowned then, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. “How do you know that?”
Abbi looked at him as if were dense. “If he didn't have some awareness of her as a woman, he wouldn't make it such a point to avoid her, would he?”
Michael's frown was answer enough. It was clearly part of the equation that he had not considered. “Larissa has been traumatized... If Spencer has behaved inappropriately—What am I saying? Spencer would never act inappropriately, not with Larissa and not with anyone else.”
“You're certain of that? Even the best of men can be swayed by love... or lust.”
“Completely confident... I honestly believe his avoidance is in deference to her tender feelings... He would not feel right about leading her on. But if there's more to it—I'll speak to him.”
~*~*~
Spencer's head ached as he climbed into his carriage. He'd stayed behind, talking with Rhys, allowing the brandy he'd imbibed after dinner to catch up with him. The only thing worse than waking up with a hangover was going to bed with one. Perhaps it was his physical misery that distracted him and that left him unaware.
“Good evening, my lord.”
The small voice was achingly familiar to him. He tapped on the roof of the vehicle. “Hold, Smithers! Our departure has been temporarily delayed.”
The Redemption of a Rogue (Dark Regency Book 2) Page 12
