Arcana (19 page)

Penelope loops her arm through mine, and I smile at her gratefully. “We must take note of every piece of fine china and crystal,” she says in a serious tone. “The number of chandeliers and paintings is also extremely important.”

I nod seriously. “Yes, we must also be aware of the height of the windows in the sitting room, for I could not live anywhere that didn’t have floor-to-ceiling windows.”

She laughs and glances over at her mother and my grandmother behind us. “I swear they’re having an identical conversation—only they aren’t joking.”

“Oh, I can practically guarantee it.”

Lord Blackburn holds up his hand to get our attention. “If everyone will follow me, we’ll walk through the garden first.”

He strides away, and I lean toward Penelope as we follow. “The garden must have at least three fountains or it won’t be worth our time.”

“Yes, but our real concern should be whether the statues are Greek or Roman.”

I laugh quietly, feeling only marginally guilty to be amusing ourselves at my grandmother and her mother’s expense. But then I think of Grandmama’s earlier censure, and the marginal guilt disappears.

The gardens, though, are nothing to scoff at. Amidst rectangles of perfectly manicured lawns are brightly-blooming azaleas, purple butterfly bushes, and a sweeping stone railing to contain it all. Penelope nudges me as we pass a weathered stone fountain, complete with a Greek goddess statue pouring the water.

The stormy gray house looms behind the garden, and Lord Blackburn brings us around to the front. His servants open the door with a flourish, and we enter into a marble foyer with a large crystal chandelier. I think again of the rumor Lord Thornewood told me and shake my head. He must be mistaken. No one living in such opulence could be indebted. Though, of course, Lord Blackburn’s financial status no longer interests me. What I
am
interested in is whether he is one of the men of whom my mother warned.

When we enter the drawing room, Eliza touches the gilded frame of what appears to be a family portrait. “Such a beautiful family, my lord,” she says. “Is this you as a child?”

A small, tow-headed boy with rosy cheeks clutches a wooden toy beside a regal-looking couple. Lord Blackburn smiles at the image. “It is indeed.”

“Penelope,” Lady Hasting says, “come see this painting of your grandparents. It’s a lovely rendering.”

“Coming, Mama,” Penelope says with a quiet sigh.

The dark walls are covered with paintings of Lord Blackburn in his youth, his horses, and various noblemen and ladies. While the others view each one, Lord Blackburn touches my arm with a feather-light touch. “What think you of the grounds and the horses?”

I don’t have to fake any sincerity when I say, “It’s all beautiful. A lovely escape. I would never want to come to town.”

“. . . if you lived here?” Lord Blackburn adds to the end of my sentence. His expression is hard to read—serious? Hopeful?

“If I was mistress of a champion racing stable? No, I would never want to leave.” My tone is light. I don’t want him to read into my statement too much, as flirting is not my intention. I don’t want it to be his either.

“Believe me, you and your brother are welcome to come back anytime.” He glances over his shoulder at Eliza and Amelia. “Miss Gray, Miss Uppington, that invitation includes you as well.”

Eliza smiles widely, showcasing her straight white teeth. “I will have to take you up on your offer, for I haven’t seen such a beautiful home and grounds in ages.”

“I am so glad you are all enjoying yourselves—this is a real treat for me, too,” he says.

Now that he is distracted by Eliza, I glance around for Penelope. I would rather not give Lord Blackburn the chance to focus his attention upon me again. I frown when I realize she and her mother are no longer in the room.

“Is there something wrong?” Lord Blackburn asks.

“No,” I answer, a trace of annoyance in my tone. Now I shall never be rid of him. “Only, do you know where Penelope has gone?”

“Actually, I believe she and her mother walked in the direction of my library. I have many unusual artifacts I’ve collected over time, and I’m rather proud of it.” He offers me his arm. “Shall I show you the way?”

I think of the odd way he has behaved today. Perhaps it would be better if I did not follow him to some distant corner of his house. “Is it very far?”

He gives me a curious look. “Not at all. It’s adjacent to this room, in fact.”

I nod then and take his arm. He wouldn’t dare try anything with so many others present, and when will I ever have the chance to be in his home again?

He leads me down a richly carpeted hallway and into a large library, only there aren’t any books.

I look around, both eyebrows raised. “My lord, this is amazing.”

Instead of books on the shelves, there are artifacts from all over the world. Enormous jade vases from Asia, carved ivory statues from India, glittering gemstones bigger than my fist, swords and armor from another era. But the most amazing things are the ones not on the shelves at all.

Lord Blackburn places his hand on the sarcophagus of an ancient Egyptian pharaoh. “This is perhaps one of my rarest acquisitions.”

“Wherever did you get such a thing?”

A slow grin crosses his face. “Ah, that’s my little secret. I have connections all over the world—other collectors who, like me, are searching for rare wonders.” He takes a step toward me and runs a finger down my cheek.

“How fascinating,” I say and take a step back. “It seems Penelope is not here; shall we return to the others?”

His eyebrows shoot up before falling down into a frown. “Perhaps an ancient mummy is of little interest to you.” He gestures toward the shining gemstones behind him. “You would rather peruse the jewelry?”

I hesitate. I think of the strange ring I noticed at the opera. “Do you have anything like that?” I ask, nodding at the ring on his finger.

He holds it up to the light. “It’s so interesting you noticed this. The symbol is an ancient one. An Egyptian ankh that represents eternal life.”

“A powerful symbol indeed,” I murmur. There is something about the seemingly innocuous shape that sends a shiver of apprehension racing up my spine.

“And considering what happened earlier during the race,” a humorless smile fills his face, “I think you are more than worthy of knowing about the ring’s origins.”

He knows. My eyes widen as he steps toward me. I move back until the corner of a bookcase presses against my shoulders. “My Lord, I wouldn’t want to pry. Clearly the ring is important to you—I only meant to say it was beautiful.”

“As beautiful as you,” he says. His eyes drop to the low neckline of my gown, and my lip curled in response. “Tell me, Miss Sinclair, would you like to know more about me? I could show you . . . so many things.”

My heart is pounding a furious warning. I feel trapped pressed so close to the bookcase. Anger vies with fear within me. I’ve been a fool; I should have never trusted him. There is no mistaking the feeling that one wrong move will ensnare me as quickly as a snake could catch a mouse. I glance at the open doorway. “We should go back,” I say firmly. “The others will be asking where we’ve gone.”

A look of fury flashes across his face before he buries it again. His eyes search mine as if he expects me to change my mind. After a moment, he smiles, the gesture deceptively relaxed. I can tell by the stiff carriage of his back and the tightness of his jaw he is loathe to relent. “Very well. You’re right, of course. There’s a proper way to do these things.”

I sidestep around him and stride toward the door. When he does nothing to physically stop me, I let out a breath in relief. That was much too close, and I am lucky to have escaped unscathed, for one thing is clear: he knows the truth about me.

THIRTEEN

T
HE
next week is a monotonous copy of the week before. Having somewhere to be each night makes me long for the comfortable schedule at home. Though, as I think these things, I know the real reason this week is so much more tedious than the last: I’ve hardly seen Lord Thornewood. And when he does attend, it’s only for such a short time that I barely lay eyes on him before he is gone again.

Lord Blackburn, on the other hand, has been almost impossible to avoid. Thanks to my grandmother, I have been forced into more than one dance with him.

In the beginning, I tried to explain to Grandmama how perfectly loathsome he is to me, but she would hear none of it. I couldn’t very well explain what had happened at his estate, so I am forced to rely on my own ingenuity in avoiding him. Unfortunately, I am almost always hindered by the stifling social laws I must abide by while in town. Those very same laws, though, make it nearly impossible for him to get me alone. For this I’m grateful.

On the way to this particular ball, however, my stomach is a writhing mass of nerves. If for no reason other than it’s the last ball of the week, so both Lord Blackburn and Grandmama will be at their most persistent.

I grasp my reticule tighter to my chest. Inside I’ve concealed a wickedly sharp letter opener—the best weapon I could find in Grandmama’s townhome. I’ve brought it to every ball, and though Lord Blackburn has never done anything overtly threatening, I feel safer with it. Even if using it would almost guarantee my disgrace.

“Remember,” she says to me in the carriage, “let Lord Blackburn have the first dance. There’s been talk of his growing interest in you, though any fool with eyes can see.”

I have long since given up arguing with her, so I just nod. The next few days—as far as I know—are free. Surely I can survive this one last evening.

“Mention his horses, too,” she adds after a moment as if the thought just popped into her head. “You know he talks of nothing else.”

This isn’t entirely true, to be fair. But I’m not in the most charitable mood, so I just stare out the window with a mean smile on my face.

My grandmother leans over and pinches my cheeks. I suck in a breath with a hiss. “What was that for?”

“Oh hush, child,” she snaps. “It’s only to give you a little color.”

“I don’t need any,” I say and then press my lips together. Even I can hear the childish note in my voice.

My irritable mood clings to me like wet sand as we enter the ballroom. When I see Penelope in the far corner of the room, a small smile touches my lips. No sooner do I move in her direction than Lord Blackburn approaches me.

“Miss Sinclair,” he says with a dip of his head, “I was hoping to see you here tonight. How beautiful you look.”

I manage a wan smile when I want to cringe. Damn the etiquette that requires me to stay and speak to him rather than go to my friend. “You are very kind.”

“Would you save the next dance for me?”

He already feels much too close. I can detect not only his cologne, but also the soap he used to wash himself. Dancing will require us to get that much closer. “Absolutely,” I mumble. “If you’ll excuse me for the moment, though, I must go say hello to Penelope.”

He bows, a scowl on his face as I scurry away from him; even my skirts feel clingy against my legs.

“You look as though you’re running away from someone,” Penelope observes when I reach her side, my expression no doubt harried.

“Oh, just from Lord Blackburn. I’ve promised him the first dance,” I say, turning my back on his direction so I won’t be forced to look at him any longer than I have to.

Penelope nods gravely. “And I fear your night may be about to become more trying.” She points to the ballroom’s entrance. “Lord Thornewood has arrived.”

My eyes shoot to the doorway and drink in the sight of him. He seems taller, darker—more aloof than usual. His bored look is in place, his clothes midnight black. I shouldn’t let myself revel in that happy-bubbly feeling, especially since every other time, he left after only a few minutes. But as he makes his way toward me, his strides long and sure, the bubbly feeling reaches my face and I can’t hold back a smile.

Penelope and I sink into curtsies when he reaches us. He gives a short bow back. “Miss Sinclair, I am shocked to find you without your shadow for once.”

My smile disappears. “Oh? I’m sure I don’t know who you mean.”