With This Ring

by Amanda Quick

  There was a heartbeat of silence behind him.

  “Burnby said that?” Beatrice’s voice was strangely neutral. “He used those very words? Altar and lust and so forth?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see.”

  “He appeared satisfied when I told him that it was you I intended to sacrifice.”

  “On the altar of your lust.”

  “Yes.” He turned around to face her. She was not looking at him, however. She appeared to be transfixed by the large globe on the opposite side of the room. “I am sorry, Beatrice, but it seemed the easiest way out of what could have been a very difficult scandal.”

  “I understand.” She continued to gaze at the globe as though it were an oracle glass.

  “I realize it could become a trifle awkward,” he said carefully.

  Her jaw tightened. She swallowed visibly. “Only if it became known that I am the authoress Mrs. York. Mrs. Poole will survive the gossip of a broken engagement to the Earl of Monkcrest. Mrs. York would not.”

  “Both Mrs. Poole and Mrs. York would survive marriage to me,” he said quietly.

  Beatrice started. Her head snapped around. She stared at him with blank eyes. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard me.”

  A deep flush rose in her cheeks. “Yes, of course. Forgive me, my lord. You are a true gentleman. I know that if you thought that you had ruined my career, you would do the honorable thing. But I’m sure it will not be necessary.”

  She was starting to irritate him. “I would not consider it the end of the world to be wed to you, madam.”

  She cleared her throat. “Very chivalrous of you, my lord.”

  He wanted to haul her up out of her chair and force her to drop that maddeningly enigmatic expression. “Chivalry is for young men. I have not worried overmuch about that sort of thing for years.”

  “But you are an honorable man, sir. You no doubt feel that as you are the one who created this problem, you would have an obligation to protect me from scandal if it ends badly.”

  “What of you?”

  “Me? Yes, of course.” She raised her head and straightened her spine. “I admit that I bear a great deal of the responsibility for having thrust you into such a difficult situation.”

  “Damnation, that is not what I meant. I am asking you if the notion of being sacrificed on the altar of my lust devastates your delicate sensibilities.”

  “Oh. I see.” She cleared her throat a second time. “My sensibilities do not appear to be particularly delicate, my lord. The notion of being sacrificed on the altar of your lust does not seem to so much as even bruise them, let alone devastate them.”

  Leo had not realized how rigidly still he had been holding himself until something deep inside suddenly relaxed. Without any warning, he found himself grinning.

  “You underestimate yourself, madam. I consider certain of your sensibilities to be the most exquisite it has ever been my pleasure to encounter. Indeed, they have brought me closer to the metaphysical plane than any amount of poetry reading has ever done.”

  She snatched up the small embroidered pillow she kept behind her on her chair and hurled it straight at his head.

  Chapter 18

  The door at the end of the passageway closed abruptly shutting off the pale beam of moon light. Darkness closed in upon her.

  FROM CHAPTER EIGHTEEN OF The Ruin BY MRS. AMELIA YORK

  The following evening Finch came to the doorway of Leo’s study and coughed discreetly. “I beg your pardon, m’lord. The carriage is here. It is nearly eight-thirty. You are expected at the home of Mrs. Poole and her relatives at a quarter to nine, if you will recall.”

  “Thank you, Finch. I have not forgotten.” Leo made one last note and then closed Cox’s journal of accounts.

  He was already dressed in formal attire for the evening’s mandatory appearances. There were any number of other things he would rather do that night. A quiet dinner at home with Beatrice leaped to mind.

  Given his announcement of an impending engagement, however, he knew he had little choice but to make certain that he and Beatrice were seen together publicly for the next few evenings. Any other course of action would only invite more gossip and speculation, neither of which they needed at the moment.

  He was halfway across the study when he paused.

  “Did you forget something, m’lord?” Finch asked.

  “Yes, I believe I did. I’ll be along in a moment.”

  Finch inclined his head and retreated into the front hall.

  Leo waited until he was alone before he walked to the opposite wall and eased aside the heavy gilded mirror that hung there.

  For a long while he studied the lock of the concealed safe. Then, very deliberately, he opened it, pulled the door wide, and reached inside for the small inlaid box.

  He took it out and turned it slowly between his fingers. He still did not know what wild impulse had made him bring it along on this strange venture. It had not been removed from the safe at Monkcrest Abbey since the death of his parents. He had not looked inside the box for several years. At one time he had planned to give it to his wife on the occasion of their first anniversary. But by then he had realized that she could never return his love and affection.

  The object in the box represented a part of the Monkcrest family legend he had come to believe he would never fulfill.

  He carried the box with him into the hall, where Finch held his greatcoat and gloves.

  “I trust you will enjoy your evening, m’lord.”

  “If nothing else, it will no doubt prove interesting.” Leo dropped the little box into one of the pockets of his greatcoat. The other pocket was already weighted down with a small pistol. “Things are rarely dull when Mrs. Poole is in the vicinity.”

  “Indeed.” Finch drew himself up to his full height. “M’lord, on behalf of the staff and myself, allow me to extend our felicitations and congratulations on your recent engagement to Mrs. Poole.”

  “Thank you, Finch.” Leo saw no need to point out that it was a pending engagement, not an actual engagement.

  He went through the door and down the front steps to where the hired coach waited, lights flickering, in the swirling fog.

  THE MASSIVE BALLROOM chandeliers cast a warm glow onto the terrace where Beatrice stood with Leo. The heat of the overcrowded room poured through the open doors together with the music and the muffled roar of a hundred conversations.

  “Aunt Winifred was correct.” Beatrice put her gloved hand on the low stone wall that surrounded the terrace. “We seem to be the chief topic of conversation at every social affair in Town.”

  “Only to be expected.” Leo put one booted foot on the stone barrier that marked the edge of the terrace. He braced his forearm on his thigh and followed her gaze into the fog-shrouded gardens. “The talk of our engagement will fade quickly.”

  “Pending engagement, you mean,” she said. “I know how much you must dislike being on everyone’s lips.”

  He made a small dismissive movement with his hand. “It’s not the first time that a Mad Monk has been the subject of idle speculation.”

  He was brooding, she thought. He had been like this since He had arrived at the town house two hours earlier. She wanted to believe that it was the deepening puzzle of the Forbidden Rings that had induced his dark mood tonight. Unfortunately, she feared that it was the gossip of their pending engagement that was responsible.

  Of all the damnable luck. She squeezed her hand into a small fist. If only Pearson Burnby had not issued his stupid challenge in the first place. Things were already complicated enough as it was. Neither she nor Leo needed this additional problem.

  The worst of it was that she could not tell how disgusted or angry Leo truly was about the unexpected turn of events. He was securely barricaded behind his most enigmatic facade.

  “Has there been any sign of Mr. Sibson or Mr. Saltmarsh?” she asked in what she hoped was a businesslike fashion.

&
nbsp; “None. The Runner I employed this morning gave me a report late this afternoon. Thus far he has had no luck locating them. None of their housekeepers, neighbors, or servants know where they went.”

  “If we assume that Sibson is the mastermind behind this thing, it’s easy to understand why he decamped for a while after murdering Dr. Cox.” Beatrice frowned. “But why would Mr. Saltmarsh leave town?”

  “Unlike you, I do not assume that Saltmarsh is an innocent victim in this conspiracy. I believe that all three of them were united in this affair to find the Rings. But something has gone wrong with their partnership. Now one of them is dead.”

  Beatrice unclenched her hand and absently drummed her fingers on the stone. “Have you had any luck with Dr. Cox’s journal?”

  “Not much. I spent a good portion of the day on it. You already know that your uncle was one of Cox’s patrons.”

  “Yes.”

  “Clarinda was right when she mentioned that Sibson also bought quantities of the Elixir of Manly Vigor. He had done so for years.”

  Beatrice pondered the implications. “That explains how those two became closely acquainted. Was there anything else of interest in the journal?”

  “No.” Leo’s mouth curved slightly. “Although it has been fascinating to note which high-ranking members of the ton sought out Cox’s elixir.”

  Beatrice heard the music soar in another waltz. She was intensely aware of Leo beside her. It was always like this when she was near him, she thought. A deep sense of recognition coursed through her, a sense of having waited all of her life for this man.

  In an attempt to step back from the emotional ledge she had been walking since the night she met him, she tried to analyze his impact on her. It would be so much easier to deal with her chaotic feelings if she could attribute them to the effects of fleeting passions.

  Manly vigor and physical strength pleased her as much as they pleased any other woman of her acquaintance. But she had met other gentlemen who looked as interesting in their evening clothes as Leo did. Justin had been very handsome, if a bit on the slight side compared to Leo. Graham Saltmarsh had an attractive physique, although next to Leo he seemed somewhat foppish.

  And therein lay the problem, she decided. She now compared every man she met to Leo and found them wanting.

  None of them stirred the hair on the nape of her neck and caused her insides to turn warm and weightless. None of them made her want to move closer so that she could inhale his scent.

  She became acutely aware of the hard stones beneath her fingers. Glancing down, she was startled to see that she was gripping the edge of the terrace wall with both hands.

  “Is something wrong?” Leo’s eyes went to her clutching fingers.

  “No. No, of course not.” She made herself unclench her hands.

  She turned her head to give him a cool, polite smile and promptly had to take a deep breath to steady herself.

  He was her lover. And in the eyes of the ton she was practically engaged to him.

  “Are you certain that you are all right?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She frowned. “I was just thinking about the Rings.”

  He hesitated and then gave an almost invisible shrug. “So was I.”

  Only to be expected, Beatrice told herself bracingly. Just because she was suddenly weak-kneed and breathless and about to dissolve into a warm puddle did not mean that he experienced any sensations that were even remotely similar.

  “What else are you thinking, my lord?” she asked politely.

  “That we must find a way to take advantage of the fact that both Sibson and Saltmarsh are out of Town. There is no way of knowing how long they will be gone.”

  His announcement had an effect remarkably akin to a bucket of cold water poured over her head. So much for thoughts of passion, fleeting or otherwise.

  “What else can we do that we have not already done?”

  “There is one other piece of this puzzle we have not yet examined,” Leo said softly.

  “What do you mean? We have searched the lodgings of all three men. You have hired a Runner to make inquiries and you have examined Dr. Cox’s journal of accounts. I do not see what else we can do.”

  “We can take a closer look at Trull’s Museum.”

  She suppressed the trickle of dread that teased her spine. “But you said it has been closed since the afternoon Mr. Saltmarsh and I were trapped inside.”

  “I have had a watch kept on the place. There has been no sign of activity inside. But that damned establishment seems to play a central role in this thing. I think it warrants a closer inspection.”

  “You plan to pay a visit?” She paused when she saw Arabella and Pearson Burnby emerge from the ballroom. Pearson had a gentle, possessive grip on Arabella’s arm, she noticed.

  The couple walked across the terrace to join Beatrice and Leo.

  “Hello, Arabella.” Beatrice smiled. “Did you and Mr. Burnby come out to get some air?”

  “We came to tell you something.” Arabella glowed.

  Pearson brought her to a halt a short distance away. He inclined his head with stiff respect. “Mrs. Poole. Monkcrest.”

  “Burnby.” Leo looked both bored and irritated.

  “Before we tell you and Mrs. Poole our great news, sir,” Pearson continued gamely, “I wish to apologize for what occurred between us yesterday. I hope you will accept that it was prompted by a gross misunderstanding on my part.”

  Leo’s brows rose. “Of course. I have already forgotten the incident.”

  A tiny frown puckered Arabella’s smooth brow. “I do not understand. Why are you apologizing to his lordship, Pearson?”

  “I made a mistake,” Pearson said steadily. He held Leo’s gaze. “I acted hastily. My only excuse is that I was overcome by strong emotion.”

  “It is never wise to be guided by strong emotion,” Leo said dryly. “Unfortunately, one seldom learns that lesson until one is well advanced in years. By then one generally need not concern oneself with the results.”

  Beatrice did not trust Leo’s mood. She moved swiftly to change the course of the conversation. “Well then, Arabella, what is your grand announcement?”

  Arabella’s expression cleared. “Pearson has asked me to marry him and I have accepted his proposal.”

  “I see.” Beatrice glanced uneasily at Pearson. “I am very happy for you both. I trust your parents are equally pleased?”

  “I shall inform them of my decision later tonight,” Pearson said calmly. “I am certain they will be delighted.”

  Arabella had been right in her estimation of Pearson, Beatrice thought. For better or worse, he had made his decision without waiting for his parents’ approval. She could only hope that they would not explode when they heard the news.

  “Allow me to be the first to congratulate you, Burnby,” Leo said.

  “Thank you, sir.” Pearson looked at Arabella. “Let us go find Mama.”

  “Yes, of course.” Arabella smiled at Beatrice. “Pearson and I have agreed to keep our announcement quiet for a while. We do not want to trample on your own wonderful news.”

  “Pray don’t let the announcement of our pending engagement keep you from making your own plans public. At our ages, Monkcrest and I are far too mature to allow ourselves to get overexcited about that sort of thing. Is that not right, my lord?”

  His eyes glittered. “Quite right, my dear. We are both long past the point where one indulges in grand romantic gestures. High passions are for the young.”

  “When one need not worry excessively about suffering a fit of apoplexy after experiencing them.” Beatrice concluded in liquid tones.

  Leo gave her a laconic smile. “Indeed.”

  She resisted the temptation to kick him, but it was not easy.

  Pearson looked at Leo. “You’re quite certain you won’t mind if word gets out about our engagement this evening?”

  “Trust me, Burnby, it will not bother me in the least.”

&n
bsp; “Very well, then.” Pearson nodded once more and swept Arabella off in the direction of the ballroom.

  With a thoughtful expression Leo watched them go. “With any luck, their announcement will divert some of the attention of the ton.”

  “Do you think so?” Beatrice was dubious. “Surely you hold more interest for most people than Mr. Burnby does.”

  “I assure you, today the Polite World finds young Burnby a good deal more fascinating than it did yesterday, before he issued his challenge.”

  Beatrice was briefly startled. Then she understood. “Yes, of course. Mr. Burnby no doubt enjoys considerable cachet tonight. He issued a challenge to the Earl of Monkcrest and lived to tell the tale.”

  “Just so.”

  “Little does Society know, of course, that the notorious Monkcrest has slipped into his dotage while rusticating in Devon. I doubt that anyone realizes that the Mad Monk no longer presents much of a threat to a young, vigorous man such as Mr. Burnby.”

  Leo’s teeth flashed wickedly in the shadows. “The only thing that matters to me, madam, is that you still consider me a threat to your virtue.”

  “You are incorrigible, sir.”

  “At my age, it is one of the few pleasures left.” The rakish amusement faded from his face, leaving behind the familiar raptor-sharp gleam. “Shall we return to those plans that we were about to make when Arabella and young Burnby interrupted us?”

  “A visit to Trull’s?”

  “Yes. I think we should have a look around the place as soon as possible.”

  “As I started to say earlier, I am free in the morning.” She halted abruptly when he shook his head. “Ah, I collect you mean tonight?”

  “We can arrange for your aunt and Arabella to go on to the Ballinger affair in the carriage I hired for the evening. You and I will find a hackney to take us back to your town house so that you can change into your trousers. And then on to Trull’s.”

  She pushed aside the memories of her reaction to the disturbing atmosphere in the underground chamber and pasted what she hoped was an enthusiastic smile on her face. “How do you intend for us to enter the establishment?”