A Marquis to Marry (28 page)

“How nice of you to recognize its significance.”

With his gaze still firmly latched onto the gem, he added, “I know there aren’t many emeralds the size of that one in existence, and it looks flawless. Tell me, has it been in your family for a long time?”

“No. My husband gave it to me on our wedding day. He told me only that he had purchased it on one of his trips abroad, knowing he would remarry one day, and it would be the perfect gift for his bride.”

“A very thoughtful man.”

“Yes, God rest his soul. You seem to have more than a casual interest in gems, Mr. Winston, and certainly more than the typical gentleman.”

His shoulders went back a little farther, and he lifted his chin proudly. “With good reason, Your Grace. I am a master jeweler, and I work for the prince. I seek out rare gems and gold pieces and buy them for him.”

Susannah raised her eyebrows. This man had given her the perfect invitation to ask about pearls. He couldn’t have been more accommodating if she’d planned the entire conversation ahead of time.

“What an important job that must be.”

He laughed lightly and then sniffed, obviously pleased with himself. “Yes, quite. It is an honor to serve the prince. He has quite the passion for exquisite gems, and I’ve been fortunate to add many to his collection.”

“I’m intrigued. How would you go about doing something like that?” she asked innocently.

“Mostly from private sales, of course. For instance, someone might have seen this magnificent emerald you are wearing tonight and mention it to me. I would then approach you and ask to see it.” He stopped and moistened his lips. “If I thought it might be something that would catch the prince’s attention or something he would desire, then I would ask if you wanted to part with it for a sum of money far greater than its value.”

“And what is the usual outcome?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes people will sell, and sometimes they won’t,” the man said, noticeably happy that he could give her so much information about his work. “I know the prince would be pleased to add your emerald to his collection. Tell me, do you have any interest in parting with it?”

“I’m afraid I couldn’t possibly, but what an honor for you to work for the prince. Tell me, does the prince ever wear pearls, or only precious stones and gold?”

Mr. Winston didn’t blink, hesitate, or do anything suspicious at the mention of pearls. Surprisingly, he gave her a knowing smile and said, “No doubt you’ve met, or, at least, you have seen the gentleman here tonight who is wearing pearls. If the prince had a collection like that man, he would probably rather see them on a lady than on himself.”

Susannah carefully watched every facial expression and mannerism, but Mr. Winston didn’t seem to be the least bit nervous that she had mentioned pearls. But that could be because he was so confident in his position as jeweler for the prince, and it didn’t necessarily mean he had not stolen the necklace.

“You’re talking about Captain Spyglass, are you not?”

“Yes. He’s wearing a magnificent pearl cluster ring tonight and the most beautiful rosette brooch I have ever seen. I’ve heard quite a bit about the man and after we were introduced, I asked him if I might take a look at his collection while he is in London.” Mr. Winston stopped and rolled his eyes. “He said ‘perhaps,’ if you can believe that. Clearly, leaving no doubt he’s not one of the king’s subjects.”

Susannah couldn’t hide her smile. Mr. Winston didn’t appreciate the captain’s snub. “Maybe he is afraid you would offer to buy some of his pearls.”

“And I might. From all I’ve heard, the man’s fortune is in his pearls and that scandalous ship that sits in the harbor.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Susannah saw Race standing not far away, glaring at her with intensity while he talked to a young lady who didn’t seem to notice that his gaze was not on her. Susannah’s stomach jumped, and she was furious with herself that he could disturb her so pointedly.

Though she wanted nothing more than to run from Race, she held her ground and spoke with Mr. Winston for a little longer before excusing herself.

Susannah didn’t know where the ladies’ retiring room was located but decided to find it. She needed a few minutes to collect her thoughts. She wanted some time alone to think about what Mr. Winston had to say. Seeing Race was causing her more pain than she had imagined and she wanted to get him off her mind.

As she turned down a dimly lit corridor, she heard someone call her name. She turned around and looked straight into the dark blue eyes of Lord Martin Downings, the man who had ruined her twelve years ago.

He was heavier around his middle, and of course, older than when she’d last seen him. His once thick, chestnut-colored hair was thinning on top and graying at his temples, but he was still a handsome man.

“Forgive me. I should have said, Your Grace.” He bowed arrogantly.

Staring at her former beau, Susannah realized she felt absolutely nothing for him. She had always wondered what she would feel if she ever saw him again. Would she be filled with the longing of unrequited love, bitterness, or even anger that he had rejected her all those years ago and left her to face alone the repercussions of their tryst? A calming peace washed through her, and she relaxed, knowing she felt none of those things. She had no more emotion for him than if she were meeting a complete stranger for the first time.

Susannah smiled and lifted her gloved hand for him to kiss. “Lord Martin, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you, but you are looking well.”

He smiled and took the tips of her fingers in his and squeezed them a little firmer than necessary, making her immediately wary. He kept his dark blue gaze on her face while he kissed the back of her hand, letting his lips press overly long before lifting his head, stepping closer to her, and saying, “I’ve been in the Cotswolds for a few days and returned last evening to hear you were in Town and attending parties.” He moved closer to her, and in a low voice, said, “Why didn’t you let me know you were coming to London?”

Susannah thought his question presumptuous, but as she pulled her hand from his, said, “Why would I?”

He smiled suggestively. “So that we might get reacquainted, of course.” He stepped even closer to her, and Susannah backed up. “Surely you knew I would want to be with you again, privately, of course.”

Susannah gasped. She was insulted with Lord Martin’s forwardness and felt no compunction about not sparing his feelings.

She waited until a server passed them in the hallway and then said, “But I had no desire to see you.”

He pouted, lowering his head, showing his double chin, before raising his eyes to look at her face. “How can you say that after all we meant to each other?”

She smiled confidently at him. “Because it is true, Lord Martin. I know I really should be grateful to you, but the truth is, I’m not.”

His eyes lit up, and he smiled eagerly. “Grateful to me? Really?”

“Yes,” she said and waited for another server holding a tray of glasses to pass them before adding, “If you had offered to marry me twelve years ago, I would have accepted, and today I would be living a very dull life. As it is, my life has been exceedingly happy and full.”

His smile drooped. “Surely, you don’t mean that.”

“I do. Now, excuse me, I was just on my way to speak to someone.”

“Wait!”

She turned away, but Lord Martin grabbed her upper arm so suddenly and firmly that Susannah gasped. “How dare you touch me,” she whispered harshly. “Take your hands off me.”

“Not until you hear what I have to say. Duchess or not, I must explain my actions of long ago.”

She tried to pull free of him. “I will not hear what you have to say. Release me immediately.”

“What’s going on here?”

Susannah heard Race’s voice behind her and turned as his protective hand settled firmly against her back. A deep wrinkle of anger marred his brow, and his gaze shot daggers at Lord Martin.

Lord Martin snatched his arm back as if she’d suddenly burned him, and he stepped away from her.

“Nothing, my lord,” Lord Martin said, pulling nervously on the tail of his coat.

“Good,” Race said and then glanced down at Susannah. “I believe this dance is mine, and it’s starting right now.” He looked back at Lord Martin and coldly said, “Touch her again, and I will break your hand.”

Lord Martin huffed. “How dare you be so offensive, my lord!”

Race reached over and grabbed him by his neck-cloth and shoved him aside. The trembling man stumbled back and almost fell.

“You don’t know what offensive is, yet.” Race didn’t take his deadly stare off Lord Martin. “Waylay her again, and you’ll find out.”

With his hand confidently on her back, Race started propelling Susannah forward.

“What do you think you are doing?” she asked as she walked beside him toward the dance floor.

“As Lord Chesterfield always used to say, ‘I’m saving you from a fate worse than death.’”

“If I wasn’t still so angry with you, I would laugh at that. You know good and well Lord Chesterfield never said anything of the kind.”

“Really?” he questioned, sweeping her with his hot gaze. “I thought he did. Must have been Gibby.”

Susannah inhaled deeply. She was too attracted to Race for her own good. Why did she want to laugh at his silly attempt at humor? Why did she feel like the luckiest woman in the world to be walking by his side? Why did just looking at him thrill her very soul? Why didn’t she hate the very sight of him for making passionate love to her one night and tearing her heart out the next morning?

“I watched Lord Martin kiss your hand as if he wanted to eat your entire arm.”

That was exactly what his kiss had felt like. She was tempted once again to smile at Race but was able to suppress the urge.

“I can manage Lord Martin without your interference or your brute help,” she assured Race.

“Can you?”

“Yes, and I can handle you, as well.”

“Handle me, Susannah. Tell me I’m the worst kind of beast and I treated you appallingly and you never want to speak to me again.”

Race smiled so genuinely at her that her heart melted into a watery pool.

“You are an impossible man at times. Everything you said was true and more. You are a horrible man.”

“I agree. But, for the moment, back to Lord Martin. If you can manage him, why did he grab your arm and not let go when you tried to walk away from him?”

Susannah shook her head and kept walking but didn’t look over at Race. “He is a harmless oaf. I do not want to discuss Lord Martin or anyone else with you. You are much more a threat to me than he has been, is, or ever will be.” She stopped at the edge of the dance floor. “Furthermore, I do not want to dance with you.”

He stared down at her with such an engaging smile, Susannah wanted to let all her hurt from his accusations wash out of her, but she couldn’t. She was still too raw from his thinking her capable of stealing from him. That had cut her too deeply.

“You owe me a dance,” he said, his voice hushed.

For some reason, the words excited her as much as his note had, but she had to deny those wonderful feelings.

She jerked her head toward him. “I beg your pardon. I don’t owe you anything. You accused me of theft.”

His gaze fluttered down her face to her lips. “I might have acted hastily.”

She gasped. “You might have?”

“No, you’re right, I did. I’m not a perfect man, Susannah.” He looked into her eyes and softly said, “We never had our dance.”

His heated body on hers as they moved together as one flashed through her mind. She gave him a quizzical look. “Didn’t we?”

His passionate gaze held on hers, and she saw in his expression that, no matter what he might have thought her capable of, he wanted her.

“You’re right,” he said, “we did, but not on the dance floor.”

The music started. He reached down and picked up her hand. “You do know how to waltz, don’t you?”

“Of course,” she said as he led her to the center of the floor.

They took their positions, and she gave him a stiff frame. She felt strength and warmth in his touch. On the correct note, she stepped back, and the marquis stepped forward. At first, she felt rigid in his arms, like she didn’t belong, but within seconds, she was floating along effortlessly with him.

“I believe I told you yesterday morning that I never wanted to see you again, and now you have accosted me for the second time since then.”

“No, you told me never to come to your house again, that I wasn’t welcome there.”

“Most gentlemen would recognize that means a lady doesn’t want to see the man anywhere, anytime, any place, and she certainly doesn’t want to dance with him in front of a hundred people.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“Pray God there won’t be a next time,” she mumbled as she allowed him to glide her across the floor, never once bumping into any of the other couples crowding the small space.

“You might be interested to know that I received a letter from my solicitor today,” Race said.

“Why should that interest me?”