Ransomed Jewels (11 page)

Chapter 14

Claire’s blood boiled. Her body trembled in anger at seeing the man who’d caused her so much pain.

He was just as she remembered him, as handsome and distinguished as before. And she wanted to kill him.

She wanted to take his life as she was certain—whether directly or indirectly—he’d taken Hunt’s. She wanted to make him pay for embroiling Alex in this mess. She wanted to cause him pain equal to the pain he’d caused her. A pain that would never go away. Instead, she lifted her gaze and greeted him as was appropriate her station.

“Lady Huntingdon. What a pleasure. And Major Bennett.”

Roseneau gave the major a challenging look, then turned his attention back to her. He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the air above her fingers. Oh, how she wanted to pull her hand away from him and slap his face. How she wanted to let him know how much she detested him.

But she didn’t. She couldn’t. He had Alex. Until Alex was free, she couldn’t do anything but follow her plan.

“Monsieur Roseneau. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Lady Huntingdon. You cannot imagine how devastated I was to hear of your husband’s death. Lord Huntingdon and I had conducted many business dealings together. He was a most admired associate as well as a dear friend. He will be greatly missed.”

“Thank you, Monsieur Roseneau.”

Roseneau stepped back and let his gaze move in slow perusal. “May I compliment you, my lady? You look stunning.”

Claire fought the shiver of revulsion as his eyes slowly undressed her. The seductive smile on his lips made her feel dirty.

He hesitantly released her hand and said, “I was afraid perhaps you would not come.”

Claire lifted her eyebrows. “Oh, really. And why is that?”

For a second, Roseneau looked a little nonplussed, but recovered quickly. “Because of your recent loss, of course.”

She looked him squarely in the eyes, not giving him the opportunity to doubt her meaning. “Yes. Well, there are times when matters of importance take precedence over personal preferences.”

“That sounds very serious, my lady.”

“It is. The tragedies in one’s life are often pushed to the background under light of such matters.” She paused for effect. “I have made certain discoveries that demanded I attend tonight.”

A slow, euphoric smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I’m sure I will find anything you have discovered most worthwhile, Lady Huntingdon. Perhaps we could discuss this further after dinner.”

A gleam of victory shone in his eyes. He was like a cat ready to pounce on his prey.

Claire fought a chill that made her shudder. If Roseneau was the cat, she was the mouse he was about to devour. The thought scared her to death, and yet . . . Roseneau had Alex. She had no choice but to make whatever sacrifice was necessary to free him.

She lifted her head and then spoke the last words she wanted to say.

“I’d be delighted.”

Sam pushed his way through the crush of people crowding the small ballroom after dinner, and reached for a glass of brandy from one of the small refreshment tables scattered throughout the room. As he brought the glass to his lips, he moved his gaze from the spot where Claire talked with a group of women on one side of the room to where Roseneau held court with a group of status-seeking members of the
ton
on the other. It wouldn’t be long before Roseneau made his move. Claire’s comments had enticed him enough to guarantee he’d seek a moment alone with her. Sam didn’t want to be too far away when their meeting took place. The room was too crowded to risk losing sight of either of them.

He took another sip of brandy and ignored the small orchestra playing softly in the corner. Numerous clusters of sofas and chairs dotted the room, all of them filled with guests intent on some topic of conversation or another. Those who couldn’t find room to sit, stood together in little groups.

Sam let his gaze sift over the crowd, trying to memorize every face there. One of them was undoubtedly the traitor. And whoever it was, they possessed enough influence that they were privy to top military strategies. The problem was that there were a dozen or more here tonight who fit that requirement.

Sam’s thoughts were cut short by his uncle’s interruption.

“There you are, my boy,” the Marquess of Rainforth said, striding up to him with his usual exuberance. Sam always thought his uncle moved with the forcefulness of a thunderstorm, showering countless blessings, or wreaking willful destruction on everything in his path. He was no different tonight.

“Have you had a chance to talk with Ross?”

Sam shook his head. “He’s been quite busy fighting off his crowd of female admirers,” he said with a smile. “I haven’t seen him alone all evening.”

“Well, when you do, I would like to ask a favor.”

“Of course. What trouble has my cousin gotten into now?”

“No trouble, really.”

“Ah. Then he has been remiss in some area and you think it will have a greater impact if
I
remind him of his duties.”

Rainforth smiled. “I never could put anything over on you. You get that from your father. He always knew what I needed before I asked. Sometimes it was quite exasperating.”

Sam smiled while letting his gaze take in the crowded ballroom. Claire was still in sight, as was Roseneau. He turned his attention back to his uncle.

“. . . and you always manage to bring him around to do what’s expected of him.”

“And just what is it you’d like me to discuss with him?”

“I want an heir, Samuel. Ross is turning eight and twenty, and I’m not going to be around forever. I want the Rainforth title secured before I die.”

Sam tried to hide the smile that lifted the corners of his mouth. To his uncle, the Rainforth title and the considerable fortune that went with it were of the utmost importance. Sam only wished his cousin felt the same. From all the rumors he’d heard, Ross Bennett, Earl of Cardmall, went through money as fast as his father could give it to him.

Sam checked again to make sure Claire was in sight. She was. “Is there anyone in particular you want me to suggest as a future daughter-in-law?”

“Now, don’t laugh at me, boy. But what kind of father would I be if I hadn’t put at least a little thought into the kind of female who’d make the best countess for Ross? And since he isn’t putting any effort into finding a wife himself, I feel I have to.”

“He looks like he’s doing pretty well to me,” Sam said, nodding to where Ross seemed to be the central attraction for at least a half-dozen single ladies of the
ton
.

“Pshaw! That’s all for show. There isn’t one female in that gathering who’d be a suitable countess. He’s playing the ladies’ man simply for my benefit, to make me think he’s making an effort. But I know differently.”

“I see. And on whom have you decided as your first choice for your future daughter-in-law?”

Rainforth nodded to the opposite side of the room where a group of five or six pretty young women stood talking and laughing. “The one in green. Lady Caroline, the Earl of Penderly’s daughter. Excellent breeding, exceptional dowry, and pretty eyes.”

Sam nodded his approval at his uncle’s first choice. She was lovely.

“Or, the one by the window, in blue. Lady Penelope, Baron Renfroe’s daughter. Her father doesn’t have quite the pedigree I’d prefer, but her mother was the Duke of Ashtonbury’s daughter. Excellent family, you know.”

“Of course,” Sam nodded, trying to hurry his uncle’s conversation.

“Then there’s the Marchioness of Huntingdon. I know she’s still in mourning, but special allowances can always be made for a young widow alone.”

Sam’s gaze flew to where Claire stood talking to a group of friends. He suddenly wanted to remove her from the room. Wanted to take Claire out of his uncle’s sight. He didn’t want anyone considering her as a marriage prospect. Bloody hell! He didn’t even want anyone looking at her with that on their mind. “I’m not sure Lady Huntingdon is in the market for a husband, my lord.”

“Nonsense, Samuel. Every lady is hunting for a husband. Marriage to Ross would be an enviable match. Everyone knows that. And they’re of a similar age.”

Sam turned his gaze to the circle of men where Roseneau had been standing. He was gone. Sam searched the room while his uncle continued down his list of reasons Ross should settle down with a wife. Roseneau wasn’t anywhere.

“Are you listening, Samuel?”

“Yes, Uncle.” Sam looked to the spot where Claire had been. “I’m listening.”

She was gone, too.

“And you’ll talk to Ross?”

“Yes, of course. Now, if you’ll excuse me. I see someone I need to speak with.”

Sam pushed his way through the crowd, searching for Claire and Roseneau. His heart raced as he realized they weren’t in the room. That somehow they’d left without his notice.

Damn his uncle and his trivial worries. Damn Ross and his irresponsible ways. But Sam knew he had only himself to blame. He’d let her get away when he’d sworn to keep her in view.

Sam walked the perimeter of the room, searching every alcove and secluded spot. When he was sure they weren’t in the room, he headed toward the stairs. Perhaps Roseneau had taken her to Rainforth’s study, or the library, or—

“I say, Sam,” his cousin Ross said, grabbing Sam by the arm to stop him from rushing past. “What’s the hurry?”

“Not now. I’ve got to—”

Sam brushed Ross aside and turned to search the other side of the room. Ross’s words stopped him from taking another step.

“He not here.”

“Who?”

“Roseneau.”

Sam spun around to face his cousin. “What makes you think I’m looking for Roseneau?”

“A guess.”

“Actually, I was looking for Lady—”

“Stay away from him, Sam.”

Sam lifted his eyebrows. “Is that a warning, Ross?”

Sam studied his cousin’s face. Ross’s easygoing expression was gone, the look in his eyes as serious and menacing as the tone of his voice. Sam took note of the change and decided to feign ignorance. “But he’s your father’s friend and a guest, Ross.”

“You know exactly what he is, Major. I only wish my father did. He thinks the sun rises on him.”

Sam stared at his cousin, trying to evaluate the message he was sending. How could Ross know about Roseneau? How could he know about anything?

Sam struggled to find an answer.

“Don’t underestimate him, Sam. He’s not as harmless as—” Ross stopped, as if he realized he’d said too much.

“As what, Ross?”

“Just be careful.”

Before Sam could say more, Ross threw the remainder of his brandy to the back of his throat and handed the empty glass to a passing footman. “Oh, look. There’s Pinky. I have to offer him my sympathies. I hear he’s betrothed to Lady Eunice Quigham, though it seems he’s quite happy about it.”

Ross took a step away from Sam and stopped. When he turned around, there was a happy smile on his face. “If you’re looking for Lady Huntingdon, I believe she’s out on the terrace.”

The Earl of Cardmall walked away, laughing gaily, as if their serious conversation had never taken place.

Sam watched him go, then made his way to the double French doors that led out onto the terrace. The same gut-wrenching unease he felt before every battle roiled deep in his belly.

And a greater fear as Ross’s words echoed in his head.

Chapter 15

Claire kept her hand on Roseneau’s arm as he led her out into the cool night air.

“Do you need a wrap, my lady?” he asked, his concern a practiced art. It meant absolutely nothing to her tonight.

“No. I am fine.”

He placed his other hand over her gloved fingers and walked with her to the far side of the terrace, to a secluded spot where they couldn’t be seen or overheard. When they reached their destination, Claire turned to step away from him. But Roseneau clamped both hands around her upper arms to stop her.

“You’ll be warmer if you stay close, Claire.”

Claire stepped back, deliberately breaking his hold. She wanted to slap him, wanted to rake her fingers down his face and leave him scarred and bleeding. She wanted to see the fear in his eyes when she pulled the small pistol she’d hidden in a pocket of her skirt and pointed it at his chest. But she couldn’t do any of that. Not until Alex was free.

“I’m far from cold, monsieur,” she said with the gentlest of smiles on her face. “I rarely am. And . . .” She took a step away from him, then another, while slowly tracing her fingers over the low cement balustrade. When she was a safe distance from him, she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. “. . . I didn’t realize we were such close acquaintances that you felt at liberty to use my Christian name?” She smiled seductively. “Yet.”

His eyebrows arched, then his smile broadened. And he laughed. “Am I correct in assuming this enjoyable banter is leading somewhere?”

“Perhaps.”

“Then,
perhaps
, you would like to enlighten me.”

Claire turned around to face him, her expression as relaxed as she could make it. “I want my brother released.”

He stepped closer. “Then I presume you brought me the necklace.”

“Can I presume you have already released my brother?”

Roseneau smiled. “How thoughtless of me. If I would have anticipated you having the necklace, I certainly would have. Do you have it, Lady Huntingdon?”

“No.”

“Who does?”

Claire tried to sound in control. Tried to make the lie believable. “Major Bennett. He’s keeping it until the Russian representatives come the end of next week.”

“And the papers?”

“Papers?”

“Don’t play the fool, my lady. You know what papers I’m talking about. If you have the necklace—which you do—then you also have the papers. Where are they?”

Claire shrugged, as if his accusations meant nothing to her. “Major Bennett’s working every hour of the day and night to decode them. I think it won’t be long until he knows the traitor’s identity. I’m sure all of England will take great pleasure in watching such a man hang.”

Roseneau was quiet. When he spoke, Claire felt a greater fear than she thought was possible.

“If you do not have what I want with you, then there is nothing for us to bargain with.”

“And there’s no need for you to hold Alex. Keeping him hostage can do you no good.”

“Can’t it? I want that necklace and the papers, Lady Huntingdon.”

“I already told you. I don’t have them.”

“Then get them!”

“You know as well as I that Major Bennett will never trade them for Alex’s freedom.”

“That’s very unfortunate, my lady. Your brother was sure you would come to his aid.”

Claire’s blood ran cold. “Don’t hurt him. Please. None of this is his fault. He isn’t involved in any of it.”

“But you are. And I want that necklace.”

Claire’s heart raced. The blood thundered in her head. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She had no choice. Alex would die unless she could help him. Unless she . . .

“What else will you take in place of the necklace?”

His eyes turned hard and black and dangerous. For a long time he only stared at her, his gaze angry and hostile. Then understanding dawned, and the glint in his eyes frightened her more than before. “What else are you offering, my lady?”

Claire swallowed hard. She couldn’t do this. She was going to be ill. She clutched her hands at her side, making tiny, painful fists. “Anything I have that you want.”

He stepped closer until he was so near her she could feel the heat of his vile body next to hers. The corners of his lips curled upward. His eyes gleamed with a greedy, eager look.

Claire forced herself not to run when he touched his hand to her bare flesh. She forced herself to stand still when he ran the fingers of one probing hand along the low bodice of her gown.

“How interesting.”

His eyes ogled the flesh that was exposed to his gaze as he ran his fingers back across her skin. With each passing, he dipped lower over her breasts, his long fingers reaching deep beneath the material, so deep he nearly touched her nipples. She swallowed hard.

He smiled. Then he leaned close and Claire knew he intended to kiss her.

“Lady Huntingdon,” a voice said from somewhere behind them.

A small gasp of relief escaped from deep inside her. Roseneau stiffened. “How unfortunate,” he murmured against her ear, then turned to face their intruder. “Major Bennett, what a surprise. Did you also come out to enjoy this nice evening?”

“There was a matter I needed to discuss with Lady Huntingdon and couldn’t find her. Thank you for seeing to her welfare,” the major said, crossing the terrace until he stood next to her.

Claire watched the two men evaluate each other, heard the unspoken threat, felt the undeclared challenge. They were both formidable enemies. Both dangerous, threatening men. But one she would trust with her life.

“The pleasure was mine.” Roseneau lifted her hand and brought it to his lips. “We had a very enlightened conversation, Major. One you would have found quite interesting.”

“Then I regret I did not seek the lady out sooner.”

“Your loss was my gain.” Roseneau turned so his gaze bore into her. “If you will excuse me, my lady. There are many friends inside I have yet to greet. I bid you a pleasant good night.”

He turned to go, then stopped. “Thank you for your generous offer, Lady Huntingdon. I’m not sure I can be persuaded to exchange one treasure for another, but one never knows. The offer is tempting indeed.” Roseneau shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever I decide, you will know my answer shortly.”

Claire watched him go through the double French doors, then spun away and clutched her arms around her middle. She couldn’t stop shaking. Couldn’t find enough air to fill her lungs. Couldn’t keep her small cries from echoing in the darkness.

She felt herself sway. The major’s arms came around her, turning her, pulling her close to him.

“What the hell was that all about?”

“Hold me,” she whimpered, her voice a weak whisper, her words jagged fragments. “Please . . . Oh, please.”

Claire nestled against him and buried her face against his warm chest. There was nothing sexual in the way he held her; nothing sensual, and yet . . . she’d never experienced such complete surrender as she did at that moment. She wrapped her arms around his waist and clung to him. Twice he’d saved her. Twice he’d come when she’d needed him. Twice he’d held her in his arms.

His hand traveled up and down her spine, comforting her. Soothing her. His lips touched the top of her head. She could feel his muscled strength, smell his clean, masculine scent. He held her until she stopped shaking. Until her breaths could fill her lungs. And he held her even longer.

Finally he placed his fingers beneath her chin and tilted her face. He was angry. She could see it in his eyes. They blazed hot, the gray as intense as she’d seen the night he killed Roseneau’s henchman. Some of his anger was directed at her, she knew. But most of it was directed at Roseneau.

“Why did you come out here alone with him?”

“How else did you expect me to deliver your message?”

“Not out here where no one could see you. Not alone!”

“What would you have had me do? Conduct our conversation in front of fifty people?”

“No, but I couldn’t find you. He could have—”

He stopped. She saw the concern in his eye and waited for him to finish. He did not. He only looked at her. “Are you all right?”

She nodded and gave him a shaky yes. “Please, take me home. I want to go home.”

“Very well.”

He wrapped his arm around her waist and escorted her through the crowd still drinking the Marquess of Rainforth’s excellent and never-ending supply of liquor. They said a quick farewell, and the major got their cloaks while Claire waited by the door. She couldn’t wait to leave. Couldn’t wait to get away from Roseneau.

The major came back with her cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders, then led her out of the house and down the steps.

When Honeywell saw them exit the town house, he pulled the carriage away from the curb and crossed the street to get them. Before it came to a complete stop, the major had the door open. He lowered the step, and Claire took her first shaky step up.

“My lady! Lady Huntingdon! Wait!”

Claire turned around as one of Rainforth’s servants came running toward them. “This is for you, Lady Huntingdon,” the maid said, holding out a narrow, oblong package. “Monsieur Roseneau said to make sure you got this before you left.”

Claire shook her head and pulled her hand back. She didn’t want anything he had to give her. Didn’t want any gifts from him.

The servant’s happy smile turned to perplexed agitation, and she glanced from Claire to the major, looking for instructions as to what to do.

“But he said to make sure you received it, my lady.”

Claire pulled back even further. It must have become obvious to the major she wasn’t going to take it. He took it for her.

“Thank you,” he said to the relieved servant. “Tell Monsieur Roseneau that Lady Huntingdon received it.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

The servant bobbed a quick curtsy, then raced back to the house. Major Bennett followed Claire into the carriage. “Do you know what it is?” he asked when the carriage was rolling down the street.

She shook her head.

“Why would Roseneau give you a gift?”

“I don’t know.”

But she did know. It was the answer to her proposition. An answer she didn’t think she was brave enough to discover.

Claire huddled in the corner of their carriage as it rambled through the streets. Her teeth chattered and her whole body trembled from her encounter with Roseneau. She’d never been so frightened in her life. Never been so physically sick with dread. The box was the size a necklace might come in. What if he had accepted her proposition? What if he hadn’t?

She wrapped her arms around her middle and tried to keep her teeth from chattering. She couldn’t.

“Bloody hell, Claire,” she heard the major whisper. He placed Roseneau’s package on the seat and moved beside her. He pushed her skirts aside to make room for his large frame.

She made the mistake of looking at him. His eyes still brimmed with fury; his mouth was pressed to two tight lines. The only term that could describe the expression on his face was
murderous
.

He slid close beside her, and with infinite tenderness wrapped his arm around her shoulder. She turned into him when he pulled her close, as if that was where she belonged. She buried her cheek into his chest and slid her arm around his middle, feeling the strange warmth of his flesh beneath his linen shirt.

“Do you think Roseneau believed you when you told him I had the necklace and the papers?”

She nodded, unable to get the words out.

For a long while they sat in silence. Then he asked the first question she knew she could not answer. “What generous offer did you make him?”

He spoke through clenched teeth, his words short and clipped. She could hear the anger in his strained voice. She could feel the bridled fury in the tenseness of his muscles. Every part of him seemed stretched taut, ready to snap.

“What?” he repeated.

“It was nothing,” she lied.

“What did he mean when he said he wasn’t sure he could exchange one treasure for another?”

Claire pushed herself away from him, moving as far into the corner as she could. “I don’t know. Please, leave it be.”

“I can’t and you know it. What treasure was he talking about? What did you offer him, Claire?”

His voice echoed in the closed carriage, his anger a palpable thing. He turned to face her, his enraged face looming closer to her in the dark shadows.

“What?”

“It was nothing! I did what I was supposed to do. I told him you had the necklace and had no intention of giving it to him. And I told him you were close to discovering the traitor’s identity. Now leave me alone!”

Claire clenched her fists in her lap. Damn him! They had less than one week to find the necklace, and she didn’t have the slightest idea where Hunt had hidden it.

“What deal were you attempting to make?”

Claire was ready to shout her denial when the carriage stopped. The major jumped down to the street, then turned to help her. She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She knew he expected her to confide in him. Expected her to play the part he’d assigned her, then yield to his better judgment when any decisions had to be made. But it wasn’t
his
brother Roseneau was holding hostage. It wasn’t his life that had been destroyed.

She felt his hands at her waist, touching her, helping her, and she ignored the strange swirling in the pit of her stomach.

The second her feet hit the ground, she spun past him and raced to the house. She needed space. Needed to be alone so she could think. So she could search the house more thoroughly.

Oh, she wished Barnaby were here. Wished things were different and she could confide in the major. She was desperate to give her problems over to him.

Claire sped up the short walk, then through the open door Watkins held for her. The major was close on her heels. She knew it even though he hadn’t made a sound.

It was strange how she felt his presence. Even Hunt’s nearness hadn’t been this powerful. But Hunt had never held her like the major had. Hunt had never comforted her the way the major had. And Hunt knew what the major hadn’t discovered yet. Hunt had found out what the major would never know.