long evening out.
But he’d only brought her here
because she’d offered him no alternative. Lia was painfully aware that —right
now—the man she’d called husband wanted nothing to do with her.
“I sent a letter to the
headmistress from my parents, noting I would be absent this final quarter due
to family concerns. I sent a letter to my parents from the headmistress, full
of marvelous praise of my skills and diligence, and of how I had very
graciously volunteered my last Christmas there to help tutor the parish girls.”
“My heavens. I had no idea they
were teaching forgery at young ladies’ academies these days.”
She twirled the quill a little
faster.
“And theft,” he went on. “I
presume you did bother to steal the official stamp of the school.”
Lia lifted a shoulder. “It
wouldn’t have been very convincing without it.”
“Quite. And the marquess’s seal?”
“I had a copy made Easter last.”
“Cunning.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome. It’s always
a pleasure to acknowledge the talents of a fellow delinquent.”
She propped her cheek upon her
fist. The quill was pheasant, she thought, striped and spotted.
Perhaps quail. She frowned down
at it, because it was easier to contemplate than Zane.
He’d also removed his wig and his
elegant black coat. His waistcoat was silver brocade, a pattern of willow
leaves and vines just barely visible in the weak early light. He’d raked his
fingers absently through his hair until it fell into a sheen of tawny,
sun-tipped gold; it was brown and blond and longer than she’d ever seen on any
man, nearly half as long as her own.
She wondered that he’d never cut
it shorter. She was glad that he never did.
He left
the door to prop a foot up on the cushion of the armchair beside hers—shoe and
all—and bent his head until his hair spilled forward again, sliding over one
shoulder. Without looking at her, he began slowly to plait it.
“Expenses?”
“A
saved allowance.” “Papa is generous indeed.” She let him think it. Until this
month she hadn’t spent more than a guinea on herself in three years. Half of
those nose-in-the-air ninnies at Wallence thought she herself was on the
parish.
“And of course, Madame Langford, I am most curious as to which aspect of your former curriculum
covered bald-faced lies. Everyone back home seems to be under the impression
that you are a sad, sad case. Not a hint of any of the old family traits.”
“That part is true,” she said,
pausing her circles with the quill.
“Then how is it you know the
whereabouts of this fabulous diamond?” he inquired smoothly. “When no one else
does?”
The quill made a series of
scratchy dots across the page. “Mostly true.”
“ Mostly. How awfully
intriguing,” he said, in a tone that indicated it wasn’t. He abandoned the
plait, nearly done, to prowl across the chamber, pausing at a decanter on the
marble-topped secrétaire. From the corner of her eye, Lia watched him
pour a glass of dark liquid. It was claret. She could smell the dry spice of it
from here.
He held it between his palms,
staring moodily at the surface. He did not offer her any.
“I don’t see how it concerns you
how I got here,” she said, throwing down the quill. “All that matters is that
I’m here to assist. I would think you might appreciate that. I don’t want any
of the money for myself, you can have the whole pot. Any other thief in the
world would be overjoyed to have a beautiful woman offer to show him the way to
a valuable gemstone.”
“Alas. No lessons offered on
modesty, I suppose.”
She made a motion with her hand.
“I only meant—that is—” A sigh escaped her; she swiveled in the chair to see
him. “I’m well aware of my face. It’s part of what happens to our kind. You
were quite right.” She swallowed. “We are monsters. But…I could be the monster
who helps you. At least in this.”
His eyes lifted to hers. They
gazed at each other as
But he’d only brought her here
because she’d offered him no alternative. Lia was painfully aware that —right
now—the man she’d called husband wanted nothing to do with her.
“I sent a letter to the
headmistress from my parents, noting I would be absent this final quarter due
to family concerns. I sent a letter to my parents from the headmistress, full
of marvelous praise of my skills and diligence, and of how I had very
graciously volunteered my last Christmas there to help tutor the parish girls.”
“My heavens. I had no idea they
were teaching forgery at young ladies’ academies these days.”
She twirled the quill a little
faster.
“And theft,” he went on. “I
presume you did bother to steal the official stamp of the school.”
Lia lifted a shoulder. “It
wouldn’t have been very convincing without it.”
“Quite. And the marquess’s seal?”
“I had a copy made Easter last.”
“Cunning.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome. It’s always
a pleasure to acknowledge the talents of a fellow delinquent.”
She propped her cheek upon her
fist. The quill was pheasant, she thought, striped and spotted.
Perhaps quail. She frowned down
at it, because it was easier to contemplate than Zane.
He’d also removed his wig and his
elegant black coat. His waistcoat was silver brocade, a pattern of willow
leaves and vines just barely visible in the weak early light. He’d raked his
fingers absently through his hair until it fell into a sheen of tawny,
sun-tipped gold; it was brown and blond and longer than she’d ever seen on any
man, nearly half as long as her own.
She wondered that he’d never cut
it shorter. She was glad that he never did.
He left
the door to prop a foot up on the cushion of the armchair beside hers—shoe and
all—and bent his head until his hair spilled forward again, sliding over one
shoulder. Without looking at her, he began slowly to plait it.
“Expenses?”
“A
saved allowance.” “Papa is generous indeed.” She let him think it. Until this
month she hadn’t spent more than a guinea on herself in three years. Half of
those nose-in-the-air ninnies at Wallence thought she herself was on the
parish.
“And of course, Madame Langford, I am most curious as to which aspect of your former curriculum
covered bald-faced lies. Everyone back home seems to be under the impression
that you are a sad, sad case. Not a hint of any of the old family traits.”
“That part is true,” she said,
pausing her circles with the quill.
“Then how is it you know the
whereabouts of this fabulous diamond?” he inquired smoothly. “When no one else
does?”
The quill made a series of
scratchy dots across the page. “Mostly true.”
“ Mostly. How awfully
intriguing,” he said, in a tone that indicated it wasn’t. He abandoned the
plait, nearly done, to prowl across the chamber, pausing at a decanter on the
marble-topped secrétaire. From the corner of her eye, Lia watched him
pour a glass of dark liquid. It was claret. She could smell the dry spice of it
from here.
He held it between his palms,
staring moodily at the surface. He did not offer her any.
“I don’t see how it concerns you
how I got here,” she said, throwing down the quill. “All that matters is that
I’m here to assist. I would think you might appreciate that. I don’t want any
of the money for myself, you can have the whole pot. Any other thief in the
world would be overjoyed to have a beautiful woman offer to show him the way to
a valuable gemstone.”
“Alas. No lessons offered on
modesty, I suppose.”
She made a motion with her hand.
“I only meant—that is—” A sigh escaped her; she swiveled in the chair to see
him. “I’m well aware of my face. It’s part of what happens to our kind. You
were quite right.” She swallowed. “We are monsters. But…I could be the monster
who helps you. At least in this.”
His eyes lifted to hers. They
gazed at each other as
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