Marcus leaned back in his chair. “A white streak. How… interesting. Did anyone in Southampton
catch the woman’s name?”
“I spoke to the innkeeper in Southampton
,” Chase answered. “He spoke to her briefly while she was waiting on the mail coach, but she never gave her name. All she said was that she was returning home, to London
.”
Anthony noted that Marcus did not appear surprised at that information. Was it possible… did Marcus know who this woman was?
“So the ring has come back to London
,” Marcus said softly. “Chase, were you able to find anything else?”
“No. Not really. Except… the innkeeper mentioned that she certainly knew a lot about the ancient sword he had on display in the front room. She told him some things about the execution of Italian sword hilts that he didn’t know, though she was the most taken with an antique—”
“Snuffbox,” Marcus finished with a final note, his jaw tightening. Bloody hell, of all the women in London
, why did it have to be
her?
He could only hope he was wrong. But from the description… it had to be. There could be no other.
It was the last thing he needed right now. He was in the middle of acquiring the Melton estate after the bloody fool lost his fortune at the gaming table just last week. Marcus’d had his eye on the estate for years now, for it sat adjoining an especially rich piece of land he’d acquired years before at an auction. Now it was to be his, which was only fair, as he’d been patiently biding his time as ne’er-do-well Lord Melton ripped through his fortune one losing card at a time.
Twice before, Marcus had offered to purchase the lands outright, and twice before, Melton had haughtily sent him on his way. But now the dissolute younger man was desperate and willing to talk. Marcus was ready. A feeling of power surged through him; before the negotiations were through, Melton would wish with all his heart he’d settled before things had gotten so grim.
Marcus knew that was what he should have been focusing on—increasing his family’s holdings and not this silly matter of Mother’s missing ring. Blast it, he had important things to do, and the ring was becoming more and more of a distraction.
Anthony caught his gaze. “You know who it is.” Marcus gave a short nod. Of all his brothers, Anthony was the one who most understood what it was like to be responsible for a name and a fortune… mainly because he was in charge of his own family, the ne’er-do-well Elliots. “There is only one woman who fits such a description and who would know about Italianate hilt work: Miss Honoria Baker-Sneed.” The name lingered on Marcus’s tongue long after it dissipated into the air. God, even the sound of it made his chest tighten unpleasantly.
Anthony pursed his lips. “I never heard of her before.”
“Which is your good fortune,” Marcus said grimly. “Miss
Baker-Sneed is the bane of my existence.“ Marcus could tell from the interested stares that surrounded him that he was not going to get away with such a simple answer. ”Her father travels far and wide and collects antiquities. To supplement their rather limited income, she often accompanies him to the sale on Monday morning at Neilson’s Antiquities.“
“Neilson’s?” Brandon
said. “Where you bought the tapestry in the front hall?”
Chase shuddered. “Horrid thing, that tapestry.”
“It depicts one of the greatest battles of the Crusades,” Marcus said.
“It has woven pictures of decapitated soldiers,” Chase said, clearly unimpressed. “And it’s not even very lifelike.”
“It is very lifelike if you realize it was woven in the twelfth century.”
“How do you know that?” Brandon
’s frown was heavy with suspicion.
“He doesn’t,” Chase said placidly. “That’s just what they told him when they sold it to him.”
Devon
shrugged. “Daresay those antiquities places are all the same, willing to claim that any bit of rusted metal is a Viking helmet or some such nonsense.”
A dull ache was beginning to form at the base of Marcus’s skull. He had scores of things to do today, not the least of which was to meet with Melton’s man of business to discuss the state of the man’s holdings. “That tapestry is priceless.”
“And ugly,” Chase added.
Brandon
nodded. “Wouldn’t have it at my house, musty old thing.”
Anthony gave a sleepy smile. “You’re all fools. I’ve always coveted that tapestry. My only complaint is that I didn’t find it first.” He looked expectantly at Marcus. “Tell us about this Miss Baker-Sneed? Is she attractive?”
“Worse; she’s intelligent. She knows as much about antiquities as I. For that reason, she and I tend to end up on the opposite ends of the auction table, usually bidding against one another.”
Anthony pursed his lips, his eyes alight with amusement. “Chase, this innkeeper… did he mention if Miss Baker-Sneed was a handsome woman?”
Chase blinked. “Actually, yes. He mentioned twice that she was deuced attractive. And he asked me if I thought she might be coming back.”
Anthony nodded, amusement and satisfaction resting on his face. “I begin to see fate’s hand at work. Or at least that of the ring. Be cautious, Marcus. It seems to me that Miss Baker-Sneed might well be your intended bride.”
“Not while I’m alive,” Marcus said, growing suddenly irritated with the whole lot of them. “And even if I were dead, not with
that
woman.” With that final pronouncement, he stood and regarded his brothers with a dismissive stare. “Do you have any more information to impart?”
Looking annoyingly relieved, Brandon
practically leapt to his feet. “Not that I can think of. Come, let us go and leave poor Marcus to his work.”
“Wait.” Devon
sent a slanting glance at Chase. “Don’t you have something to ask Marcus?”
Chase blinked. “Me? What could I possibly have to ask M—” Realization dawned, followed quickly by a shake of his head. “Oh no you don’t! I have nothing to ask Marcus. Nothing at all.”
Marcus lifted his brows. “No?”
Chase’s face heated and he glared at Devon
before turning to his oldest brother. “It was nothing, really. Just… Harriet and I had thought to invite you to stay with us for Christmas, but since she’s in the family way, I thought you might not wish to—”
“That is quite kind of you,” Marcus said shortly. “But as you rightly noted, I have work to do.”
“At Christmas?” Devon
asked, pausing by the door. “Surely you will cease working for a few days and—”
“Unlike you, I have no desire to waste my time with frivolities. Chase, I thank you for the invitation, but no thank you.”
Brandon
brightened. “Well! I suppose that’s all there is to be said about that. Verena also wished you to visit—but as you say, you have no time.” He looked at his brothers. “I believe I shall repair to White’s. Anyone wish to join me?”
Devon
nodded briefly. “I’ll accompany you.” He looked at his oldest brother and hesitated. “Marcus, surely you have plans of some sort for the holidays. I mean, you won’t be alone, will you?”
Marcus pulled the ink well closer and dipped his pen into the ink, faintly amused at the concern he saw mirrored in his brothers’ faces. “I’m in the midst of acquiring a new estate and I must retrieve the blasted talisman ring. I will be well occupied.”
Brandon
frowned. “That doesn’t sound very much in the holiday way. Will… will you let us know if you need assistance?”
“If the ring is indeed in Miss Baker-Sneed’s possession, you may rest assured it will be in mine by the end of the week.” He drew his papers forward and began perusing the day’s correspondence. “Thank you all for attending me. Enjoy White’s.”
There was a moment more of silence, and then one by one his brothers bade him a brief good-bye and left. All except Anthony.
He waited until all of them were gone before he stood and gave a leisurely stretch. “You are turning into a complete curmudgeon. A woman would soften that hard shell you’re building.”
“I don’t need my shell softened, thank you. And I have a woman.”
“A mistress who coos every time you sneeze does not count.”
A flicker of irritation tightened Marcus’s shoulders. “Lady Percival does not coo. She is discreet. Pleasant. And not given to giggles or chatter.”
“She is also hinting that you will soon come to point. In fact, she seems quite confident that it is only a matter of time.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“At breakfast this morning, at the meeting of the Four Horse Club. She apparently took Lord Chudrowe into her confidence. They used to be quite close before you arrived, you know.”
A wave of irritation washed over Marcus. “I have never given Lady Percival any reason to hope our liaison is more than what it is—a flirtation.”
“Perhaps she thinks it only natural. You have been seeing her for quite a while.”
“A year, if that.” Marcus lifted a letter from the stack on his desk and glanced through it. A sophisticated widow, he’d thought her a safe mistress… until now. “There are a dozen Lady Percivals; which is fortunate since I shall have to find a new one now.”
Anthony sighed. “Marcus, I hope you will take a word of advice from a brother with your best interests at heart. Do not belittle the talisman ring. Fate does not spare those who mock her.”
Marcus opened a letter from his Yorkshire
solicitor. “I don’t believe in fate.”
“You will. And it just may be this mysterious Honoria Baker-Sneed who will prove it to you.”
“Balderdash.”
“Wait and see, Marcus. Just wait and see.” With a quiet laugh, Anthony turned on his heel and quit the room, closing the door firmly behind him.
Marcus threw the letter back onto the desk. Anthony’s levity was outside of enough. Had the man any knowledge of
Honoria Baker-Sneed or her sharp tongue, he’d know that it would take a far more tolerant man than himself to bear such a harpy company. But that was Anthony of late; he suffered from the same illness as his other brothers. Since the lot of them had married, they were continually plaguing him with their high spirits. Plaguing him and probably everyone else they knew.
Marriage had changed every one of them, in various ways. Chase was more energetic and laughed aloud all the time. Devon
, who had never suffered from ill spirits, was surrounded by smiling peacefulness. And Brandon
was more focused, more ambitious. But the biggest change was in Anthony. Anthony was gentler and far more willing to laugh at his fellow man.
Marcus wondered if perhaps his own spirits would rise if he were to find a woman who—“Bloody hell, what am I thinking?” he muttered. He flicked through the rest of the day’s correspondence. He had far more important things to do than think of impossibilities. As soon as he met with his solicitor about the upcoming settlement on the Melton estate, he would schedule a very brief visit with Miss Baker-Sneed and retrieve the ring once and for all. Everyone knew the Baker-Sneeds were in desperate need of funds. All it would take was a little finesse and a strong dose of patience.
Despite Anthony’s dire prediction, that would be that. Marcus was sure of it; there were few problems that money could not solve. Once he had the ring back in the hands of the family, he’d lock it away and spend his time doing more important things, like growing the family fortune.
Truly, it was a pity his brothers had allowed themselves to get so involved in the chaos of their own lives that they had forgotten the peace that came from a more orderly existence. But that was to be expected, Marcus supposed. It certainly seemed that the cost of marriage was high indeed. One not only gave up one’s peace, but one’s faculties of reason as well.
Added to that—and in Marcus’s estimation, this was the worse part—one was forced to accept another person’s life and
their
relatives, mad or foolish or crazed as they might be. Why, just look at Brandon, who was now related to a family of complete shysters because of Verena. The last Marcus had heard, Verena’s father was passing himself off as a Russian count and causing untold problems in Italy
.
Devon
, meanwhile, had just married Katherine MacDonald and had been forced to build a workshop for his lady in the back of his estate outside of London
just for the seven huge, hulking Scotsmen who helped her do her glasswork. While Marcus admitted that Kat’s talents were above the ordinary, he could not imagine the madness that was now Devon
’s life.
Then there was Chase, with his wife’s herd of brothers and sisters; and Anthony, who had opened his home to a flock of noisome children as well as Anna’s meddling grandfather… Bloody hell if Marcus would marry, ever! Not unless he could find a nice, quiet woman who could not speak and was orphaned in the bargain. Perhaps then he’d consider it.
And perhaps not. What would be the point, anyway? Marcus liked his life just the way it was. Or he had, until the ring went missing and he discovered that his discreet liaison wasn’t quite so discreet any more.
Marcus sighed, drew forth a fresh paper and threw himself into his work. His pen flashed across the paper, and all thoughts of women and their disagreeable tendencies to change a man and make his life unpleasant faded away.