Ransomed Jewels (12 page)

She didn’t stop to hand Watkins her cloak, but walked across the entry room toward the stairs.

“Claire.”

She continued on her way up the stairs.

“Claire. Stop.”

Claire halted, then turned to face him.

He was close. Not close enough to touch her, but close enough that she could see the fire in his steel-gray eyes. Close enough to feel the power that radiated from his towering strength.

She held his gaze, daring him to question her further. Her mind was made up. She would do this on her own. She would battle Roseneau with the only artillery she had. With the only means at her disposal. There was nothing the major could do to help her except give over the necklace. And she knew he wouldn’t if he had it.

“I’m tired.” She started to turn away from him, but the lift of his hand stopped her.

“Open it.”

He held the package the servant girl had brought out to them. A pretty little box wrapped in gold paper and tied with a deep burgundy ribbon. She didn’t want it. Maybe tomorrow she could face the gift Roseneau intended her to have. The first of many gifts she would receive for services rendered. But she didn’t want to see it tonight.

“Open it!”

She gave him her most defiant look, then snatched the package out of his hand. She pulled at the ribbon, whipping it free. It fell to the floor. She tore at the gold paper with little care. It fluttered down with the ribbon. When the long, flat box was unwrapped, she looked him in the eyes, then tossed the lid in the air and held the box out to him.

She didn’t want to see what Roseneau had given her. Didn’t want to see what value he put on what she’d agreed to do for him. So she kept her gaze focused on the major’s face.

His reaction was unmistakable, but not the one she anticipated. He did not look at the contents of the box as if he was impressed or amazed, but as if he were shocked. Puzzled. Repulsed.

“Claire?”

He reached for the box, taking it from her hands. It was almost as if he wanted to hide it from her. She looked down. Looked at the scrap of cloth she knew had once been ivory linen with the letters
AL/MH
embroidered in the corner. One of a matching set of three handkerchiefs she’d given Alex last Christmas with the initials
AL/MH
, Alexander Linscott, Marquess of Halverston. The handkerchief was lying in the bottom of the box, soaked in blood.

“No!”

Claire clamped her hands over her mouth to muffle the scream she couldn’t stop. Her legs threatened to go out from beneath her while her body trembled like a leaf blowing in a gale storm. The major put down the box and held her, but Claire was oblivious to his arms around her or his hands caressing her.

She had Roseneau’s answer. She’d failed. If she didn’t give him the necklace, Alex would die.

Chapter 16

“Claire!”

Sam guided Claire to the base of the stairs, picked her up in his arms, and carried her to the nearest room. Watkins rushed ahead of him and opened the door to the downstairs study. Sam stepped inside and placed her on the nearest sofa. She trembled and gasped for air. Sam was suddenly frightened for her.

“Claire.”

He reached for her hand and held it. Her fingers shook in his; her lips were pressed tight and colorless.

“Claire, what is it? Whose handkerchief is that in the box?”

She looked up at him. Her face was as pale as fine porcelain, her eyes filled with terror. “It’s Alex’s. Oh, God help him. It’s all my fault.”

Sam turned to the butler. “Bring me a glass of brandy.” Watkins raced to get the brandy. “What does your brother have to do with this, Claire?”

“The handkerchief is his. His initials are on it—Alexander Linscott, the Marquess of Halverston.”

Sam mumbled a harsh curse as Watkins handed him a glass. “Here, drink this,” he said, lifting the brandy to her lips. She looked at it as if she’d never held a glass of brandy before, as if she had no idea what to do with it. He tipped it and let her swallow.

“Tell me what’s happened. Everything.”

Her tears flowed freely now, streaming down her cheeks as her body trembled. “He has him. Roseneau has Alex,” she said through her sobs. “He told me tonight he wouldn’t release him until I gave him the necklace.”

Sam tried to absorb her words.
Roseneau has her brother.
This was why she was so intent on finding the necklace. Why she couldn’t let anyone else find it. Why hadn’t he realized that greed wasn’t the reason she wanted it?

She twisted her hands in her lap. “I never should have lied to him. I should have told the truth so he knew we didn’t have it and couldn’t give it to him.”

“It wouldn’t have made any difference.”

She flashed him a hostile glare. “How do you know? It might have.”

“Roseneau isn’t that benevolent of a man.”

“But if he knew we didn’t have it, maybe he would have agreed to my bargain and let Alex go. Oh, God! What have I done?”

Sam’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean, maybe he would have agreed to your bargain?”

She pounded a fist against her thigh as she rocked back and forth on the settee. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. That’s why he sent the handkerchief. To tell me he wouldn’t agree to anything I offered.”

Every nerve in Sam’s body snapped. She’d tried to make Roseneau an offer. But what did she have that he might want? She didn’t have the necklace. She didn’t have the papers. She had nothing except—

“Bloody hell! You offered to trade places with your brother. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was trying to get my brother back!”

“Why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you tell me Roseneau had your brother?”

“Because you couldn’t help me. No one could. Not without the necklace.”

Sam looked at her and knew why she hadn’t come to him. Knew that he’d made it plain he wouldn’t give the necklace up just to save one man. Even if that man were was brother.

“Watkins. Go find Lieutenant Honeywell.”

“Yes, Major.”

“Take one more sip,” he said to Claire, lifting the glass to her lips.

She did and nearly choked on the swallow.

Sam waited for her to catch her breath, then dabbed at her tears with a handkerchief he had in his pocket. She lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes filled with pleading, with fright. “Please, help me.”

Sam nodded and set the glass on a nearby table. When he turned back to her, he unclasped the linen frog at her neck and slipped her cloak from her shoulders. “How long has Roseneau had your brother?”

“Since I was attacked. The man Roseneau sent told me they had him and wouldn’t release him until I handed over the necklace.”

Sam whispered a muffled oath while he slipped her gloves from her quivering hands. “Does Barnaby know?”

“I told him when he was here last night.”

Sam got up from the settee and paced the room. “Where is Barnaby now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did he say what he was going to do?”

She shook her head and tried to answer, but her voice broke when she tried to speak. But he’d heard the fear in her words. Seen the trepidation on her face.

He raked his fingers through his hair in frustration and walked across the room. With one arm braced against the fireplace, he stared into the flickering flames. Bloody hell! They only had a few days.

“Roseneau won’t kill your brother until he’s certain we won’t ransom the necklace for him. This was a warning. His trump card. He’ll wait now for us to answer him.”

“How?”

Sam was saved from having to lie to her when Honeywell burst through the door.

“What is it, Major? Watkins said—” Honeywell’s eyes grew wide when he looked at Claire.

Sam turned back to Claire. “We need to find your brother, my lady. Does he have a town house here in London?”

“On Kensington Square.”

Sam issued Lieutenant Honeywell an order. “Go to Lord Barnaby’s place on Kensington Square, Lieutenant. See if he’s there.”

“Yes, sir. And if he’s not there?”

“Go to Roseneau’s town house on Berkely Square. See what you can discover. Be careful, though. Don’t let anyone see you.”

“Right, Major.”

The door closed behind Honeywell before Sam could bring himself to face her. He knew what he’d see on her face. The pleading look that said she wanted his promise to hand over the necklace if they found it. A promise he could never make.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and lie down for a while? I’ll send someone for you when your brother arrives.”

“I’m not tired. I can use the time until Barnaby gets here to continue our search.”

“You’re exhausted. What good will you do anyone if you become ill?”

She bolted from the settee and glared at him. “What good will my resting do Alex? If
you
need to rest, feel free to do so, Major. I intend to look for the necklace.”

Sam held his breath and forced his temper to cool. She wasn’t thinking clearly, wasn’t in any condition to know what was best for her. She’d gone through too much in the last few weeks. That must be it, or she wouldn’t have tried to handle everything on her own. She would have come to him a long time ago.

“You and Roseneau were never lovers, were you?”

She turned on him with the most blatant anger he’d ever witnessed. “I loathe the man.”

“And at his ball? When I saw you in his arms?”

The look of surprise on her face was genuine. “Roseneau caught me unawares. He made advances that”—she paused and took a breath—“that I was unable to stop. Luckily, Barnaby was keeping an eye on me and interrupted us before things went too far.”

Sam swiped his hand across his face and thought of all the times he’d accused her of being unfaithful. Of having an affair with Roseneau. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what? That there was nothing between Roseneau and me? That finding the necklace was a matter of life and death? That I couldn’t let you have it when we did find it?” She clenched her hands at her sides. “I did!”

With a lethal glare, she stormed across the room. They were in Hunt’s study, the room that most reminded them of Sam’s friend, Claire’s husband. The two side walls were lined with books, the shelves running from ceiling to floor. The back wall was made up of tall, multipaned windows that looked out onto the garden behind the house, a garden that, if it were daylight, would boast well-tended flowers in full bloom.

A door took up the middle of the front wall, the empty spaces on either side of the opening decorated by two huge paintings, one of which Sam was certain was a Gainsborough original. This whole room represented the Marquess of Huntingdon’s life, from the books on the shelves to the paintings on the wall to the maps and charts on a table in the corner. This was what his friend’s existence had consisted of.

Sam felt a pang of regret and loss. Then he wondered what he would leave behind if something happened to him. And whether or not his death would matter to anyone.

Even Hunt’s presence, in time, would be of little consequence. Once the people whose lives he’d touched were no longer here to remind the world of his existence, what would be left behind to tell future generations of the man he’d been? Hunt had left no legacy. No children. No heir. Even his name would be extinct after Lady Huntingdon was not alive to carry it. Or when she remarried and forsook the Huntingdon title to take on her new husband’s name.

Sam felt a stab of anger that things had turned out as they had. That Hunt’s life had yielded so much—yet so little. But was his own life any different?

He looked at the woman sitting on the floor, opening each book in search of the necklace. She’d been Hunt’s wife. Had known him better than anyone. But what did that matter when she was left alone with nothing but her memories?

Sam realized how little he really knew her. How wrong he’d been about her. And how much he admired her.

The need to be with her and protect her intensified. He’d never had these feelings before. Never wanted to let anyone get close enough to be a part of his life. Not like he wanted Claire to be a part of his.

He suddenly realized these feelings for her had been growing for a long time. From the second he’d found her after Roseneau’s henchman had hurt her. When he’d sat at her bedside hour after hour and cared for her. When he’d comforted her and held her in his arms. And later, when he’d kissed her.

If he would have allowed his heart to speak instead of his mind, he would have known then that he wanted her. Even though he knew how impossible it was for him to ever have her. He was a bloody spy. The same as Hunt had been.

He mentally shook himself, facing head-on a dilemma that had only one outcome. No matter how he looked at it, the situation both he and Claire had been thrown into could end only one way. He had a duty to perform, for both his fellow man and his country, and that duty was to do whatever it took to bring about a quicker end to the war. He could never let his feelings for Claire get in the way of what he had to do.

With every ounce of his will, he concentrated again on the task before him. “When you and Hunt returned from France, what did Hunt do?”

“I told you already,” she said, thumbing through another book. When she finished, she put the book back on the shelf. “We returned home late afternoon. We changed, ate a cold supper, then Hunt came in here. I didn’t see him for the rest of the evening. When I came down the following morning, he was still working in here. I don’t think he’d slept all night.” She pulled another book from the shelf and opened it.

“Did he say anything? Anything at all about the necklace? Or the papers?”

She shook her head, then put the book in her hands back on the shelf and reached for another. “I sent a tray in to him because he hadn’t joined me for breakfast. About an hour later he had his valet pack a bag and he left.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“He said he had estate business he needed to take care of.”

“How long was he gone?”

“A month. Maybe longer. I can’t remember.”

“A month? He left you here alone for a month?”

“He did that often when he had estate business. Now I know that excuse also included work he did for the government.”

“Did he say anything at all before he left?”

She shoved herself to her feet and moved to the other side of the room. “No. But that was not uncommon. He rarely did.”

Sam watched her pull out a book, look inside, and shove it back with more force than before. He knew he shouldn’t ask her more, but he had no choice. Time was running out.

“He rarely did what? Inform you where he was going or when he would return?”

“Both, Major. Does that surprise you? Hunt told me very little of his business dealings. He spoke even less of things that mattered to him. His purpose was obviously to keep me in the dark regarding anything in which he was involved. It was only when we were in public, when the two of us were on display and he had to act his part, that he pretended we were the perfect couple. Now are you satisfied?”

Sam stood in shock, his feet rooted to the floor. He watched her whip books from a shelf, open them with an angry flip, then shove them back in place.

Sam knew she’d passed the point of exhaustion long ago. She was frantic with worry. And desperate. Perhaps that was why she said what she just had. Had exposed certain pieces of her personal life she normally wouldn’t have revealed.

“This isn’t Hunt’s fault,” Sam said, as if he knew how angry she was with Hunt.

She slammed a book against the floor. “Isn’t it? Then whose fault is it?”

Sam didn’t have an answer for her. He wasn’t even sure why he’d said that, other than he’d felt a need to defend Hunt.

“He loved you, Cl—”

“Don’t!” She held out her hand to stop him. “You can say a lot of things. But don’t tell me my husband loved me. I don’t care what you thought he said. He—”

She clamped her hand over her mouth and hissed through clenched teeth as she took a deep breath. When she spoke again, her voice was laced with bitterness.

“Just. Don’t.”

Sam watched her continue searching through the books. How could her marriage to Hunt have been anything like what she was describing? Hadn’t Hunt’s dying words been that he loved her?

“I don’t understand what you’re telling me,” he said, watching her open another book.

“Don’t try, Major. It’s not important.”

“Maybe I think it is.”

She glared at him with a look that left no room for debate. “Perhaps I don’t consider my relationship with my husband anyone’s business but my own.”

Her face was pale, her lips drawn tight. Sam knew she was on the verge of collapse. He stared at her as she turned to continue her search. She staggered, and Sam bolted forward to catch her. He wrapped her in his arms.

She allowed him to hold her long enough to gain her balance, then tried to push away from him, but he refused to let her go. “You can’t keep this up for much longer,” he whispered in her ear.