Ransomed Jewels

by Laura Landon

  Claire sank back against the upholstery and closed her eyes. “When in reality, I find out his long absences were due to covert missions he was performing for the government. Now some very dangerous people think I have a necklace he stole.”

  Unable to stay seated any longer, Claire rose from the settee. She felt his eyes on her as she walked to Hunt’s desk and fingered the cool wood on the top of his desk.

  She stared at the papers Hunt had been working on the day he died and ran her finger over the paperweight he had a habit of rolling in his hand when he was thinking. She touched the black leather ledgers sitting on the corner. She hadn’t moved any of his things. Hadn’t been able to bring herself to come into this room, other than the night she’d been attacked. It reminded her too much of the man she’d lived with, cared for, disappointed, her whole married life.

  She leaned against the corner of the desk and fought the heavy weight pressing against her chest, pushed back the tears that threatened to surface. Tears she had yet to shed over a man who’d been incapable of loving her.

  “Why do you want the necklace?” he asked, the threat in his voice plain.

  “My reasons are personal.”

  “You know I can never let you have it,” he said as a statement of fact.

  “Not even if it is a matter of life and death?”

  “It is already a matter of life and death. The life or death of thousands of innocent young men.”

  There was no compromise in his tone, no understanding in his words. Her heart plummeted. How could she justify using the necklace to save only one life?

  But that one life is Alex’s.

  How could she live with herself if she gave up the necklace and Alex died? How could she live with the guilt if she didn’t, and thousands of innocent young men died in his place?

  He stepped into the center of the room and clasped his hands behind his back. He faced her squarely, his legs braced wide and his head tilted just enough for her to feel his threat. “I received a message from my uncle, the Marquess of Rainforth. He is hosting a small, informal dinner party this evening. You and I will be in attendance.”

  Claire glared at him, determined to make a stand. “No. I am in mourning yet and—”

  “Society’s rules don’t apply here. This is important. Roseneau will be there.”

  Claire felt the floor shift beneath her. “I . . .” She shook her head. “No. You can’t make me go.”

  “You don’t have a choice. Our presence has been commanded. You are, as my uncle put it, ‘the guest of honor.’”

  Claire felt the room spin around her. She couldn’t face the major. Roseneau was probably the one who’d killed her husband. He was the one who’d sent someone to attack her. And, he’d kidnapped and threatened her brother. She clenched her hands at her side and glared at him. “I don’t want to go.”

  “I’m surprised. I thought you’d be eager to see Roseneau again.”

  Claire’s temper flared. She wanted to reach out and slap the smug expression from his face. Instead, she spun away from him and clutched her arms around her middle. She looked out the window and saw nothing but blackness.

  For a long time, he let their silence consume the room. Claire broke the tension with her question. “Why do you think he wants me there?”

  “Other than to see you again? He’s giving you an opportunity to hand over the necklace.”

  “I don’t have it.”

  “But I want you to convince him we do.”

  She turned to face him. “Why?”

  “Let’s just say it raises the stakes. Letting him believe we have the necklace puts your friend in a much more precarious position. And perhaps, if we’re fortunate, in his desperation he will make a mistake and reveal our traitor.”

  Claire stared at him, unable to hide her confusion. “If Roseneau and I are the close acquaintances you assume we are, how do you know you can trust me?”

  “I don’t. But I’m willing to risk it.”

  “Then there’s no need for me to go in person. I can just send him a message informing him—”

  “No. You will go in person.”

  His plan didn’t quite make sense. Then suddenly she understood. Her blood turned cold. “You don’t want me to go because of Roseneau, do you? You want to use me as bait. You think there’s a chance that the traitor will show his hand if I am there and he believes that I have the necklace. You want me to draw him out.”

  The unreadable mask on his face didn’t give a clue to his thoughts. His subtle silence let her draw her own conclusions. With slow, deft movements, he walked over to the side table and poured some of Hunt’s brandy in his glass. He took a small sip, then placed the glass back on the table. When finally he spoke, there was a coldness in his voice that matched the hardness in his words.

  “The dinner was Roseneau’s idea, but probably at the traitor’s insistence. There’s a good chance he’ll be there. Until we find the papers, this is as close as we’re going to get to finding him.”

  “How is your uncle connected?”

  “Roseneau and my uncle have been friends and business associates for years. Roseneau requested my uncle host a dinner party to give him an opportunity to see all his English friends while he is visiting. Your name was at the top of the list. My uncle is only an unwitting accomplice.”

  Claire felt a chill race down her spine.

  “You have to attend. It’s important that Roseneau thinks we’ve found the necklace and you’re waiting for an opportunity to get it away from me. It’s even more important the traitor is convinced I have the papers.”

  “But he knows you don’t or you’d have arrested him.”

  “No. He’ll assume he hasn’t been arrested because I haven’t broken the code that identifies him.”

  “How will he learn that?”

  “That will be your responsibility, my lady. It shouldn’t be hard, considering your past association with Roseneau.”

  “But I don’t know who the traitor is.”

  “You don’t have to. All you have to do is tell Roseneau I’m close to breaking the code. He’ll tell the traitor. And once the traitor knows I have the papers, he’ll have to come after them.”

  “And you’ll be waiting for him?”

  “Something like that, yes.”

  Claire considered what the major was telling her.

  If she told Roseneau they were still searching, he might give her more time in which to find it, time she desperately needed. Or, maybe he’d realize since they didn’t have the necklace, holding Alex hostage wouldn’t do him any good and he’d let him go.

  If only she had something Roseneau might consider taking in exchange for the necklace. Something he desired but that was beyond his reach. A shiver raced down her spine, and Claire slammed her mind shut on the thought taking form.

  That left the major’s second option. To tell Roseneau the major had the necklace but refused to give it over. If she could convince him that she was no longer in control, and that holding Alex wouldn’t benefit him any longer, maybe he’d release him. Then negotiations for the necklace would focus between Roseneau and the major, and Alex would be safe.

  Or, she could offer him something he would consider in exchange for Alex. Something—

  Her thoughts refused to go further. Oh, how she wanted to trust the major. Wanted to believe everything would work out as he planned. But she couldn’t.

  Claire turned toward the window and stared out into the darkness. A lead weight pummeled to the pit of her stomach at the thought of facing Roseneau. She sensed the kind of man he was, had known it when he’d cornered her at the ball. When he’d trapped her in a dark corridor and refused to let her leave. When he’d touched her and held her and made improper advances even though she’d done nothing to encourage him.

  He was manipulative, a man used to getting what he wanted. A man who thought money and power gave him liberty to do whatever he wished. And this was the man with whom the major thou
ght she was having an affair. Knowing what he thought made her as sick as when Roseneau had kissed her. She’d been able to escape his unwanted attentions only because they’d been interrupted by Barnaby and his friends.

  Claire didn’t want to think what would have happened if they hadn’t come upon them. Roseneau was one of the most self-confident, aggressive men she’d ever met. He was nearly as old as Hunt, but it was almost as if he’d defied the passing of time. The years had been very kind to the handsome Frenchman, even though his reputation as a connoisseur of fine wine, lavish entertaining, and beautiful women was renowned.

  A rush of dread raced through her veins. There was a third option open to her. An option she hadn’t wanted to consider before, but one that lurked on the edge of her sanity. An option she no longer had the luxury of ignoring.

  Alex had done nothing to deserve being thrown in the middle of this nightmare. If there was anything she could exchange for her brother’s life, she had no choice. And she possessed only one thing Roseneau might want. Something she would offer only as a last resort. Something it would take every ounce of her courage to give.

  She turned to face the major with a heart incapable of feeling anything more.

  “What time am I to be ready?”

  “We will leave at eight.”

  “Very well. I think I’ll go to bed now, if you don’t mind. It’s been a very long day.”

  He nodded, then moved to open the door. She walked past him with the same resolve that had gotten her through the last four months. At least she knew what few options were left her.

  Too much had been taken from her. So much more would be demanded from her before this was finished. She would do what she had to do, and survive with what was left.

  Chapter 13

  Sam helped Claire into the carriage, then sat on the leather-cushioned seat opposite her. He tapped the roof with his walking stick and the Huntingdon carriage lurched forward. He enlisted Lieutenant Honeywell to act as their driver, although the Marchioness of Huntingdon didn’t seem to notice. Just as she hadn’t seemed to notice much of anything from the time she’d come down to leave.

  She’d walked into Hunt’s study where Sam had been waiting, and his breath had lodged in his throat. She was absolutely stunning. Her gown was a rich shade of purple satin, so deep it was nearly black. The shiny material molded to her exquisite form, and it shimmered with each step she took.

  Her shoulders were covered just enough to hide the bandage over her wound, while the bodice was cut low in front to reveal the creamy white rise of perfect breasts. Not exactly the gown he thought she would choose since she was still in mourning, but one that drew the attention where she intended and suited the situation perfectly. A single strand of pearls was all the jewelry she wore. It was all she needed.

  Her hair was done up in cascading ringlets drawn back loosely from her face and allowed to fall to the center of her back. Tilly had wound a matching purple satin ribbon through Claire’s golden curls. Sam envied the ribbon, wishing it were his fingers wending through her silky hair.

  She wore just the right amount of face powder to hide her telltale bruises, and in her hand she carried a fan made of black lace. He had no doubt the fan was intended to hide any of the bruises her face powder had failed to conceal. All that was missing was a hint of life in her eyes—any expression other than the dread he glimpsed for just one second before she so expertly hid it.

  Sam had seen this reaction from soldiers before battle. The ones who didn’t hide their terror behind robust laughter, gay singing, and all the liquor they could hold shut themselves away in a private world where outside horrors couldn’t reach them. They turned distant and quiet, as if they could separate themselves from the danger they were about to face.

  Claire was doing just that. Separating herself. Preparing for whatever she was forced to confront. Resigning herself to accept the consequences.

  Sam wanted to reach over and hold her hand. He wanted to comfort her, although giving in to the unfamiliar emotions coursing through him wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. Never before had he felt such a pull as he did when he was near her. Never before had he battled such raging desire, as if she were his to care for.

  He tamped down this intense reaction and pulled himself back to the present.

  “All you have to do is convince Roseneau I have the necklace and the papers,” he said as their carriage rumbled through London’s narrow streets.

  She blinked once, then focused on him with the sharp intelligence he was used to seeing. “Perhaps you should tell me exactly what message you want me to relay, Major. There will obviously not be a better opportunity.”

  Sam sat back against the squabs. The woman he counted on to face her enemies was back. The strong, determined warrior who’d refused to give up her fight to get the necklace for herself stared at him across the carriage. The woman who’d refused to succumb to the physical pain of her attacker; who hadn’t backed down even once from Sam’s relentless demands, when any other woman he knew would have buckled under the pressure in a heap of satin and lace and hysterics. That woman now faced him with unyielding resolve. And for some reason, her intractable determination bothered him. As if she wasn’t facing Roseneau because he’d ordered her to. But because meeting him would bring about something she wanted.

  Something was not right. For several minutes he couldn’t understand why he was bothered by her unflinching determination. By her reserve. Then, as if a light illuminated the problem, he realized the source of his concern was Claire’s initial reaction to his demand that she meet with Roseneau. It was totally wrong. What he’d seen hadn’t contained even the slightest hint of eagerness at the possibility of meeting with her lover, but dread.

  Why had she put up such a fight when he’d told her what he wanted her to do? If she and Roseneau were lovers, why had she adamantly refused Sam’s request that they attend his uncle’s dinner? And what made her change her mind when he unveiled his plan to deceive Roseneau? She was guarding another secret he would have to unveil. Sam wondered what danger she was in that she wasn’t sharing with him.

  He studied her impassive expression as she waited for him to answer. He would have to watch her closely tonight. If she intended to betray him, he couldn’t allow her efforts to go unchecked.

  “It is not a message, exactly. It is more an impression you should leave with him.”

  She raised her narrow eyebrows and tilted her head in a most becoming manner. Sam was struck by how exceptionally lovely she was. But her face was an unreadable mask he couldn’t decipher.

  “I want Roseneau to realize that you aren’t in control. That I am. That I’ve been working on the papers I found in the pouch with the necklace.”

  She waited. When he didn’t add any more information, she looked out the window. She appeared very calm and relaxed. Too calm and relaxed. Except for her hands clutched tightly in her lap, she gave no sign this evening was any more difficult for her than any other.

  “Can you handle that?”

  Her eyes locked with his. “Don’t worry, Major. I’ll do what has to be done.”

  Sam squelched the uncomfortable impression that hinted at a hidden meaning to her words, but he didn’t have time to comment further. Their carriage slowed in front of the Marquess of Rainforth’s town house, then stopped. “A warning, my lady. Tell Roseneau only what you’ve been instructed. No more.”

  “Your trust in me is reassuring, Major.”

  “Trust is not the issue. The danger Roseneau presents is. Don’t forget. I’ll be close by, should you have need of me.”

  “I doubt that will be necessary. If I’m to play my part and relay your message convincingly, I’ll need some degree of privacy. Besides, I doubt Roseneau will attempt anything amid the crowd your uncle has invited.”

  “Don’t underestimate him, Claire. And don’t underestimate me.”

  She lightly rubbed the cut across her shoulder that he knew still pained her, then
answered almost beneath her breath, “I am well aware of the threat you present, sir. The lengths to which both you and Roseneau are willing to go is never far from my mind.”

  Her remark caught him off guard, but the carriage door opened before Sam had an opportunity to think further on what her words might mean. Sam exited first, then turned to help her down. She took his hand with that familiar air of cool detachment Sam found irritating, and stepped to the street. Why did she portray such aloofness? Was this the face she put on in public? Or was this how she was to her husband, too?

  “Keep the carriage as close to the entrance as you can,” Sam told Honeywell, looking for the nearest open area. “And be ready to leave quickly.”

  “Yes, sir,” Honeywell said, indicating a spot on the opposite side of the street where he intended to park the carriage.

  “Are you expecting trouble, Major?” she asked as they made their way up the cement walk to the Marquess’s town house.

  “No. I just don’t want a long wait when we’re ready to leave.”

  She glanced at him with a look that said she didn’t quite believe him, but she didn’t question him further. They were already at the door and Rainforth’s butler, Pittingsworth, was there to take their hats and cloaks.

  “The guests are assembled upstairs in the small ballroom,” the butler said, taking Sam’s cloak. “Franklin will show you and the lady up, sir.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Pittingsworth. I know the way.”

  “Very well, Major.”

  Sam held out his arm. When she placed her hand on it, he realized she was trembling. A knot formed low in his gut when he looked down at her pale face. She was terrified. Even though she tried to mask her fear with that all-too-familiar unapproachable demeanor, he saw through her air of indifference.