Authors: Janet Kent
Caspian.
“Dammit, man,” Ian grumbled, and
folded his arms across his chest. “It’s seven o’clock in the morning.”
Caspian shrugged and stepped away
from the window to clap Ian on one shoulder. “This is my second visit. I came
at half past three and you had not yet returned.”
“I was out,” Ian said, “doing
your favor.”
“Do stop grumping,” Caspian
scolded in a cheerful tone. “It doesn’t become you. Have you got any names?”
“On my desk.”
Caspian smiled. “I’ll ring for
tea while you fetch them, then.”
Ian sighed and trudged back up
the stairs. By the time he’d changed his clothes and tucked the list into his
pocket, he’d begun to feel more awake. He headed down to the dining room.
Caspian sat at the table sipping
tea. A small silver tray piled high with toast and eggs towered in front of
him. Caspian’s plate indicated he’d been helping himself while he waited. He
turned to Ian and grinned.
Without a word, Ian slid into the
chair across from him and tossed the folded paper next to the tray. He fixed a
plate and ate with sudden hunger while Caspian scrutinized the list.
“All thirteen individuals
mentioned recent windfalls?” he asked.
Ian finished a gulp of tea. “Or
extravagant purchases.”
Caspian nodded. “Good work. I’ll
check out their finances, and we’ll see whether there are known explanations.”
“When will you be back?”
“You know me,” Caspian replied
with a grin. “I’ll pop in sometime.”
“Yeah, I know you.”
“What?” Caspian gasped with mock
indignation. “Are you upset I left you alone in London for so long?”
Ian fixed him with a sour look.
“Come now, Ian, what’s a week?
How bad could it have been? Besides, I got you introduced to Chadwick’s
daughter. She’s a sight, isn’t she?”
“Beautiful, yes. Batty, more so.”
“Miss Kinsey?” Caspian exclaimed.
“Really? She seemed so sweet. I felt Dame Fortune had dealt her a bad hand.”
“She’s bizarre,” Ian repeated. “One
moment smiling and sensible, the next raving about who-knows-what. She can be
quite witty, especially when dealing with that obnoxious cousin of hers, but
she’s a bit too high in the instep for my taste.”
“She snubbed you?” Caspian asked
in disbelief.
Ian scowled and concentrated on
his toast.
Caspian burst into laughter.
“Rich! So much for my matchmaking aspirations.”
“Mind your investigation,
Caspian. My matters are my own. Have you any additional news?”
“Yes, actually. The most recent
set of stolen jewels were tracked here to London, secreted in a particular blue
vase. A maid noticed its disappearance the same night as the jewel theft, so we
were lucky there. We even discovered which shop held the contraband and on
which day Chadwick intended to come make a purchase.”
“And?”
Caspian shrugged. “And he bought
something else entirely. We waited a few more days, and when he didn’t return,
I sent someone in to purchase the vase. We were able to return those items to
their proper owner.”
“Chadwick is no longer
suspected?”
“So it seems. However, we should
follow through with the note, so we can say with honesty that we left no stone
unturned. How are things on that front? Anything interesting in Chadwick
House?”
Thoughts of Elizabeth sprang to
mind, but Ian figured now was not the time to mention stolen kisses with the
baron’s niece. Instead, he filled Caspian in on the existence of the trick
frame and hollow book.
“Hm. Interesting, if
uninformative,” Caspian mused. “What about the piece of pottery? And the
false-backed drawer?”
“I’ll be going back tonight. I
hope to have more information soon.”
“Very well.” Caspian stood. “I
may be back in less than a week.”
Ian moved to stand as well, but
Caspian motioned him away.
“No worries, friend. I know my
way out,” he said and headed for the door. With a grin, he added, “Actually,
I’m on my way back to Plymouth via Bond Street. My sister seems to think a
bauble of some sort might cheer her up.”
He disappeared around the corner.
Shopping. Indeed. Ian cocked his
head to one side. Women did seem to appreciate that sort of gesture. He
finished his breakfast and rose to his feet. Perhaps a similar excursion would
benefit his own cause as well.
Alicia awoke in total darkness.
The dreamy remnants of Rogue’s kiss lingered in her mind. She smiled. In her
sleep, he’d kissed her more than once. She’d even kissed him back. She imagined
he clasped her to his chest, whispering words of love.
Her smile faded. No sense
dwelling on dreams. No doubt, she thrilled in their secret rendezvous because
of the anonymity. She could experience things she would not, could not, as
herself. If he came back, she might even let him kiss her again. Discover the
difference of someone liking her for herself. True passion. Oh,
would
he
come again?
She propped herself up on her
elbows. No matter. She should stop thinking about Rogue and start thinking
about her own future. She had yet to determine Papa’s sudden rush to see her
wed, and only eight days remained before Louis expected to settle contract
points and apply for a marriage license.
Alicia shoved the covers aside
and swung her legs onto the floor.
With a practiced movement, she
lit the candle beside her bed long enough to apply a face-full of patches and
locate her house cap. She snuffed the flame and crept into the hall. Satisfied
her father’s snores indicated sound sleep for the time being, she tiptoed down
the stairs and into his office.
She slipped behind the desk and
sat in his chair. The large windows to her back let enough moonlight filter
inside to save her from needing to light a candle. For once, there was no rain.
Alicia sorted through the papers
on top of the desk, careful to remember which corner they came from and which
order they had been piled. Nothing regarding business deals of any kind jumped
out at her. Perhaps he kept those papers in the drawers. All these were related
to antiquities in one way or another. Boring.
As Alicia flipped through the
last stack, her name seemed to leap off a page. What in the world? Intrigued,
she stood and brought the paper closer to the window for better light.
Papa had filled the page with a
long list, many items of which were scratched out, some reworded several times.
The single word “Louis” headed the paper. It seemed to be Papa’s notes for the
marriage contract he intended to write.
Alicia scanned the page, curious
to discover the details. She would receive £400 per year income, for the next
twenty years. How lucky! Her firstborn son would inherit the barony only if
Papa failed to remarry and bear a male heir. Of course. And her dowry would be
– Alicia’s jaw dropped. Eight thousand pounds? No wonder Louis was so eager to
have her! If the
ton
gentlemen had known Papa wanted to be dispose of
her that badly, she’d have drowned in a sea of marriage offers, past scandals
or not. Unbelievable.
Hands shaking, Alicia returned to
the desk and replaced the paper in its spot. Rage coursed through her veins.
She wasn’t sure if she were angrier that her ignorance had cost her the
opportunity to find an alternate suitor earlier, or if her fists jerked to her
sides because Papa was selling her off with such an exorbitant sum in a blatant
attempt to rid himself of her as fast as possible.
She stared at the unopened desk
drawers and forced her nerves to settle. There was no way she could search
anymore tonight in a calm manner.
Alicia walked back to the window
and gazed out at the lawn, black with shifting shadows. She might not even be
able to face her father tomorrow without betraying her emotion on her face. She
certainly couldn’t mention the matter to him. Besides the obvious fact that she
ought not have been rifling through his papers in the first place, he would
just remind her that this was how things were done, and she should be happy he
offered Louis a dowry at all.
If only she’d known about the
size of the dowry sooner! Of course, Alicia admitted to herself, she would not
have been able to bring up such a vulgar subject in conversation with anyone,
much less as a public gambit to attract suitors. She sighed. Why couldn’t she
attract men on her own right, without attaching gratuitous perquisites to the
package? Well, she had attracted one mysterious suitor, of course, although he
was the least liable to solve any of her problems.
Alicia turned from the window and
jumped.
Rogue filled the doorway as if
she’d conjured him with the power of her mind. He relaxed against the
doorframe, muscles filling out every inch of his black-on-black garb, one
booted leg crossed in front of the other. His arms were behind his back, as if
he brought another rose, this time careful to hold it rather than chew it.
Alicia’s mood lifted. She found
herself smiling, and took a step closer.
“More flowers?” she asked.
Rogue shook his head.
She took another step forward and
stopped. “Something for me?” she asked, a little embarrassed by her earlier
presumption.
He grinned and nodded.
She inched closer until she stood
a mere foot from him. “Must I continue guessing?”
Rogue brought his ungloved hands
from behind his back and laid one over the other. He opened his closed fist.
Something small caught a glint of moonlight and glinted in the darkness. Alicia
reached out with one hand. Her fingertips brushed a delicate chain. She lifted
it slowly, discovering a necklace with a heart-shaped charm. She brought her
other hand to her chest, amazed by his sweetness.
“The pendant is a locket,” Rogue
said, a hint of embarrassment in his voice.
Alicia cupped the dangling heart
in one hand and worked the tiny clasp with the other.
“It’s…” The locket sprang open.
“Empty?”
“Of course it’s blank,” Rogue
answered in solemn tones. “Love is a mystery.”
She grinned.
“I couldn’t very well enclose our
miniatures, could I?” he teased. “A black mask on one side, a big bonnet on the
other?”
Alicia chuckled. “It’s perfect.
And… it won’t get soggy, should one of us have unwisely decided to place it in
his mouth.”
“Just so. May I further suggest
your neck as the ideal locale, my lady?” he asked, straightening from the
doorjamb. He held out his hand. “May I?”
She nodded and placed the
necklace back in his hand. She turned around, presenting him with her back, and
gathered her hair to the back of her cap with both hands. She waited.
An anticipatory shiver skittered
down her spine as Rogue stepped closer, sliding his hands past her neck until
they met in front of her face. He leaned forward, his cheek against the back
of one of her trembling hands, as he captured each end of the necklace between
his fingertips. His head lifted and he drew his hands towards himself until the
necklace draped around her neck.
His fingers brushed against her
as he closed the clasp and let go. The necklace fell against her neck and the
cold metal of the pendant skidded down her skin as it sank into her bodice just
above her breasts.
Alicia didn’t release her hair.
Rogue’s fingers were softly stroking the warm flesh on the back of her neck.
His hands slid to her shoulders. He leaned forward, allowing his cheek to rest
against her fingers.
His skin felt hot and a little
scratchy, as if he hadn’t shaved since morning. He turned his face until his
mouth rested against the back of her hand. He pressed a trail of little kisses
down the back of her head to her neck. His breath was hot, moist, ragged.
Alicia gave a little shudder. Her whole body felt tense and sensitive and
strange, as if she could feel his kisses on every inch of her skin.
Rogue nudged his head against the
inner crook of her arm and she let her hair fall, allowing her arms to drift
back to her sides.
He continued to pepper her neck
with kisses, and slid his hands from her shoulders to her sides. With a light,
gentle grip, he turned her in a slow circle. The trail of soft kisses traveled
from the back of her neck to the front of her throat, up to her ear and along
the line of her jaw.
Alicia couldn’t stand it anymore.
When his mouth pressed against her chin, she angled her head, forcing his lips
to meet hers. She splayed her fingers across his chest and the grip on her
waist tightened. She stood kissing him just as she imagined herself doing in
her dream, but here he was. Real. With her. She pulled her head back to look at
him in wonder.
“What is it?” he asked in a husky
whisper.
She shook her head, unable to
articulate her thoughts.
He frowned for a brief moment.
“Is there someone else?”