The Bride's Necklace (26 page)

A
n icy December frost settled over London. Thick tendrils of fog drifted through the streets, the heavy mist making the cobbles slick and difficult to navigate. But in the master’s suite of the earl of Brant’s town house, a warm fire snapped and crackled pleasantly in the hearth and the chill remained outside the windows.

Several lamps had been lit, giving the room a soft, golden glow. Tory sat on the blue velvet stool in front of the dresser. In the mirror, she could see her husband behind her, so handsome in his dark evening clothes and gold brocade waistcoat, leaning forward a little as he draped the beautiful diamond-and-pearl necklace around her throat.

“Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?”

She turned to look up at him, the netting on her copper silk gown rustling with the movement. Though she was several months gone with child, her pregnancy had only barely begun to show. “Have I told you lately how happy you make me?”

The diamond clasp made a soft click as it went to
gether. Tory felt the cool, comforting weight of the strands, then the press of her husband’s lips against the side of her neck.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” he whispered softly.

She rose from the stool and went into his arms, slid her own arms up around his neck. Her throat felt too tight to speak so she simply held on to him.

His mouth traveled up to her ear. “Are you certain you don’t want to just stay home and forget the ball? I imagine I could find a way to keep you entertained.” He nuzzled her ear and little shivers ran over her skin.

Tory leaned back to look up at him. “I am certain, my lord, you could persuade me with very little trouble to do most anything you wished. But we have promised your friend the duke that we would attend his ball and I think we should do as we have said.”

He sighed, though his eyes held a smile. “I suppose you are right.”

She turned away from him and went to retrieve her reticule. When she turned toward him, Cord must have noticed the slight crease that had settled between her eyes.

“What is it? You’re worried about something. Tell me what it is.”

Tory hung the cord of her copper silk reticule over her shoulder. “I saw Gracie today.” Cord knew the truth about Grace and her real father. There were no more secrets between them—not anymore. “She was extremely upset. It seems her father—her real father—has been tossed into prison.”

“Prison? What in God’s name for?”

“The charge is high treason with the French. Grace is afraid they are going to hang him.”

“There’s been nothing in the papers. When did this happen?”

“Only just this morning. She told me some time back that her father was a man highly placed in the government.”

“Perhaps he was privy to information that would be valuable to the French. Did she tell you his name?”

“Yes, just this morning. His name is Harmon Jeffries, Viscount Forsythe. Do you know him?”

“I’ve met him once or twice. A man in his forties. I don’t remember much else about him.”

“Perhaps he is innocent.”

“For Grace’s sake, we can only hope.”

She walked to where he stood, reached for his hand and brought it to her lips. “There is something I would ask of you.”

Cord smiled. “Anything, my love. By now, you must know that.”

She let go of his hand, reached up and touched the pearls at her throat. Each precious diamond glittered in the lamplight.

“I’ve never believed in legends or curses. I don’t know if what they say about the necklace is true. But my stepfather once owned it and now he is dead and no one ever had a blacker heart than he.”

“And no one has a purer heart than you, my love.”

“Though the road was not always smooth, in the end, I’ve been blessed with everything I’ve ever wanted. I have a husband who loves me that I love more than my own life, and soon we will have a child. Claire is safe and never been happier.” She felt the burn of tears and blinked to hold them away. “We all have so much and Grace has so little.”

She looked up at him and prayed he would understand. “I want to give her the necklace, Cord. I want Grace to find the kind of happiness I have found with you.”

Cord’s gaze held hers. “The necklace was a gift. It belongs to you, Victoria. It’s yours to do with as you wish.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Thank you.”

Cord bent his head and very softly kissed her. “You won’t be disappointed if the necklace doesn’t work, will you?”

She shook her head. “At least Grace will have the joy of wearing it.”

“Then I wish her just that.” Cord straightened away from her. “Now that I have behaved like such a prince, can we stay home?”

Tory laughed. “You are shameless! We are going to His Grace’s ball.” She cast him a look. “But as I recall, the house is quite large. Perhaps we might find some small room not in use, a place where we might be private?”

Cord’s golden eyes darkened. A corner of his mouth edged up. “I imagine that can be arranged.” Far more eager than he was before, he settled a hand at her waist and guided her out the door.

Tory bit back a smile, certain he was already thinking what place he might find—and exactly what he would do with her once they got there.

I
hope you enjoyed Cord and Victoria and the tale of
The Bride’s Necklace.
Grace Chastain and Captain Ethan Sharpe, marquess of Belford, meet for the first time in Grace’s story,
The Devil’s Necklace.
It’s a clash of wills and a tale of high adventure.

Find out if the necklace will bring Grace the same happiness it brought Tory in
The Devil’s Necklace.