With This Ring (25 page)

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A curious expression lit Beatrice's eyes. "Calm yourself, sir."

"You dare advise me to calm myself after what you put me through?"

"I did nothing to you, sir." She braced her hands on his shoulders. Her toes dangled several inches off the floor. "It is your own fault that you were not aware of my plans."

"My fault?"

"If you had called upon me in a timely fashion this afternoon, we could have gone to Trull's together."

"I was occupied with other business. You should have waited for me."

Mocking surprise flashed across her face. "But there was no way of knowing when or even if you would condescend to visit."

"I told you that I would call upon you today."

"Did you? I got no message saying when I might expect you." She took one hand off his shoulder to push back the swath of loosened hair that had fallen over her brow. "Surely you did not think I would sit home all day, my lord?"

"I told you, I had other business."

She smiled much too sweetly. "Just as well that I was occupied with my own business, in that case. Otherwise, I might have wasted the entire day waiting to hear from you." "You knew damn well I'd get here eventually."

"Did l?"

"Yes, you bloody well did." Leo set her on her feet, yanked her into his arms, and kissed her full on the mouth. Beatrice gave a muffled protest, more surprise than an-

ger. Then she flung her arms around his neck. She returned his kiss with a fierce passion that brought back vivid memories of the events that had taken place in Clarinda's room.

He groaned. His erection was sudden, heavy, almost painful in its intensity. Driven by a ruthless need for the satisfaction he had experienced during the night, he deepened the kiss.

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It was the sound of footsteps in the hall that broke Leo's trance. The housekeeper, he thought. Or perhaps Winifred, or Arabella.

He dragged his mouth away. With an effort, he raised his head and looked down into her flushed face.

"Good Lord, anyone could walk in on us here," he muttered.

"Yes, of course." She stepped back so quickly that she staggered slightly. "It would never do for someone to see us in such a situation, would it?"

"No, it would not. Your reputation-"

She rounded on him without warning, eyes overbright with anger. "Do stop harping on my reputation, my lord. So long as it does not get out that it is Mrs. York who is having an affair with you, all will be well."

"Speaking of Mrs. York..."

She turned her back on him. "When did you discover my secret?"

"This afternoon when I went through your desk to see if I could find anything that would tell me where you had gone.-

"You searched my desk?" She glared at him over her shoulder. "Have you no shame, sir?"

"'Very little when it comes to your safety. In addition to your manuscript, I found the note from Madame Virtue. Why did you not tell Saltmarsh the truth?"

"That it was Madame Virtue who sent me the note?" Beatrice sighed. "Because I happen to agree with you, sir. I think it would be best if Mr. Saltmarsh were not drawn, any deeper into this tangle. I do not want him to come to a bad end because of me. I only hope he will be safe while he looks into the ownership of Trull's Museum."

Leo walked to the window. "I shall confront Madame Virtue later this evening."

"We shall go together to confront her."

"'Beatrice, you may dare many things, but not even you

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could successfully masquerade as a client of the House of the Rod."

"Perhaps if I were to put on men's clothing?" she suggested hopefully. "Lucy could no doubt alter some masculine garments for me in a couple of hours."

"No. "Now, Leo-"

He turned to face her. "No."

She eyed him for a moment and then apparently decided not to pursue the issue. "That reminds me." She swung around on her heel and went behind her desk. "It occurred to me while I was making my way through the secret passage this afternoon that I should have checked something before I set out."

He did not like the quick change of topic. It did not bode well. "What are you talking about?"

She yanked open a desk drawer and peered inside. "It's gone.-

"If you're looking for the note from Madame Virtue, I crumpled it up and tossed it aside." Leo glanced at the crushed sheet of foolscap on the floor near the hem of the curtains. "There it is."

"Why ever did you throw it there, sir?"

"I believe I was in a foul temper at the time."

"That is hardly an uncommon state of affairs for you, is it?" She rounded the edge of the desk. "Really, Monkcrest, you must practice more self-control."

"I shall keep your advice in mind."

Beatrice picked up the paper and put it on the desk. Very carefully she smoothed it until it lay flat. "Now, where did I put the first note she sent to me?"

He finally realized what she was doing. "You intend to compare the handwriting?"

"Yes." She opened the center drawer and flipped through several papers until she found the one she wanted. "Here it is. Look at this, Leo."

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He went to stand beside her as she put the first note on the desk beside the second.

"They do not match." He studied the notes more closely. "The one you received this afternoon was written by someone other than Madame Virtue."

"Yes." Beatrice straightened slowly, a relieved expression in her eyes. "Do you know, although it might have simplified the mystery, I am rather glad to learn that it was not Madame Virtue who tried to lock me in that storage room this afternoon."

"This turn of events presents other problems, however."

"Yes, I know. Whoever sent this to me is aware that I am acquainted with Madame Virtue."

"It was no doubt sent by the same person who employed Ginwilly Jack to spy on us when we met her in the park."

"Was he the one?" Beatrice asked quickly. "Yes. I got the truth out of him last night."

"How did you- Never mind.' Beatrice frowned. "Leo, do you think Madame Virtue might be in any danger?" "I cannot say. She is a clever woman, well accustomed

to taking care of herself. But this afternoon I sent her a message instructing her to be on her guard, just in case." "I am relieved to hear that." Beatrice sank down into her

chair, a pensive look on her face. "Do you know, Leo, at first I was only concerned with regaining Arabella's inheritance and discovering whether or not Uncle Reggie had been murdered. But the deeper we delve into this affair, the more it arouses my curiosity."

Leo exhaled heavily. "I would take it as an act of merciful kindness if you would avoid the use of the word arouse. I seem to have encountered it with alarming frequency this afternoon.-

Beatrice stared at him in openmouthed astonishment.

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Then her eyes flicked briefly to the front of his breeches. She turned a brilliant shade of pink.

"Oh, I see. My apologies, my lord. I had not realized the effect it had on you." She broke off. Her lips twitched. The twitch became a grin.

A second later she threw herself forward on top of her desk, convulsed in laughter.

OX ap le r 14

The glimmer of moonlight revealed the specter.

It glided across the empty ballroom, a dancer

doomed forever to an endless masque....

FRom CHAPTER Fo uRTEEN oF The Ruin BY MRs. AmELiA YORK

4!

I ais oui," Beatrice said.

"Mais oui," the three women seated in front of her repeated dutifully.

"It's one of those useful phrases you can fling about quite casually without any regard to actual meaning," Beatrice said. "Use it whenever you are in doubt. The same is true of nest-ce pas."

One of the women, a stout blonde with the face of a pretty milkmaid, raised her hand. "Beggin'yer pardon, Mrs. Poole-"

"Pardon, madame," Beatrice corrected. "Always remember to refer to ladies as madame, Jenny. It never fails to impress them."

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"Oui, madame."

The other two students burst into giggles. At first Beatrice thought they were mocking Jenny's accent. Then she realized that all three were gazing past her toward the door of the small room.

She turned in her chair and saw Leo lounging in the opening. His dark head nearly brushed the top of the door frame. An expression of deep curiosity gleamed in his eyes.

"Monkcrest." Beatrice stared at him in astonishment. She had not seen him since the previous day, when he had taken his leave of her after the incident in Trull's Museum. "What on earth are you doing here, my lord?-

"'Mrs. Cheslyn told me that I would find you here this afternoon."

Beatrice realized that her three students were eyeing Leo with considerable interest. "That is enough for today," she said. "Remember to practice using mais oui and nest-ce pas whenever possible."

The women jumped to their feet. Still giggling as though they really were the innocent young ladies fate had prevented them from becoming, they made their curtsies, said their good-byes, and filed past Leo down the stairs.

When the last one had disappeared into the fitting rooms below, Leo met Beatrice's eyes.

I assume this is where your traveling companion, Sally, gained her atrocious French accent?"

"Her name is Jacqueline now, not Sally," Beatrice said smoothly. "She is from an extremely remote village in France. Her accent is, therefore, not Parisian."

"I see." Leo smiled. "I met your friend Lucy a few minutes ago. Tell me, how long have you two been turning young prostitutes into French seamstresses and ladies' maids?"

"About five years. Some time ago we hired a tutor to give the language lessons, but she sent a note saying that she

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was ill and would not be able to teach today, so I took on the task."

"How did you get started in such an unusual undertaking?"

Beatrice gazed around at the low-ceilinged quarters she and Lucy had once shared. "It all came about by chance. But once we had begun, we could not seem to stop."

"Some things happen that way," Leo said softly.

She did not know what to make of the expression in his eyes. To distract herself from the intensity she saw in him, she spread a hand to indicate the tiny room. "This is where Lucy and I lived for the first two years of our widowhood." He studied the room. "Cozy."

She laughed. "That is putting it very politely. Lucy and I pawned nearly everything we owned to obtain these lodgings and the shop downstairs. I wrote my first two novels up here while Lucy lured customers with her French accent and high prices. In the beginning I helped her with the sewing, although Lord knows I have no great talent for it."

"Lucy has remarried."

Beatrice wondered what had provoked that observation. "Yes. Her husband appreciates her business abilities." She hesitated. "They have two children."

"Do they?" He met her eyes. "That is a topic that we have not yet discussed."

She cleared her throat. "Children?"

"Yes. There are precautio' s that can be taken." n

Memories of his unrestrained lovemaking flashed

through her mind. "So I have been told." Her voice sounded high and a trifle squeaky even to her own ears. "But I do not believe that we need worry overmuch about the matter."

He watched her closely. "Why do you say that?"

She turned away and walked to the table, where a halfempty pot of tea stood.

"I told you that the one thing my husband wanted from

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me was a son. I could not provide him with one.' The teapot trembled in her hand as she lifted it. "He did not know it, but I wanted a child more than he did." Someonetowhom shecould give all the love that Justin had not wanted. "It was not to be." "Did his mistress ever get pregnant?"

She swung around so quickly, tea splashed over the edge of her cup. "Why, no. Not to my knowledge. Why do you ask?"

Leo raised one brow. "Among other sciences, the men in my family have paid particular attention to animal husbandry for years. I have occasionally had strong young bulls that could never manage to get any of my cows with calf. But when I introduced those same cows to another bull, they conceived immediately.'

"I see." Her face was so hot now, she knew she must be an extremely vivid shade of red. "Justin was not exactly a, uh, bull, my lord, but he was quite, uh, healthy. I'm certain that the problem lay with me. Really, I do not think we need discuss this anymore. Please."

Because if she allowed herself to dwell on the impossible notion of holding Leo's babe in her arms, she would surely do what she never allowed her heroines to do. She would burst into tears.

He looked as though he were about to argue, but he changed the subject instead. "As you wish."

She took a large swallow of tea to fortify herself. Then she banged the cup down on the saucer. "You have not yet told me why you came to find me here this afternoon, sir."

"To give you a report of the results of my inquiries this morning. I went back to Trull's. You will be interested to know that the porter has vanished and the establishment is closed to the public."

"Hinin. So much for discovering who prepared that tea." "Indeed. I shall pursue the matter, but in the meantime I have made some plans for tonight. I thought I had better tell you about them."

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That statement got her immediate attention. "What do they involve?"

"The visit to Cox's apothecary. I have put it off long enough."

"I will go with you."

"I have already said no."

"This affair of the Rings grows increasingly strange, my lord. I have decided that we must work more closely together. I will accompany you tonight."

He raised his brows. "Do you intend to quarrel with me over the matter?"

She gave him her brightest smile. "Of course not, my lord. I would not dream of involving myself in a vulgar quarrel." She paused. "I intend to blackmail you."