“I’ll allow you to stay on a trial basis,” he said.
Laura released a breath. “Thank you,” she said rather stiffly. “I’ll give you no cause to regret it. I’ll take excellent care of Lady Josephine, you’ll see.”
The hint of relief on her face only intrigued him further. Alex opened the door, then turned back as if in afterthought. “By the way, my aunt’s jewels are secured in a lockbox at Barclay’s Bank. As my uncle’s executor, I’m the only one with a key.”
Laura gazed blankly for a moment. Then she clenched her fists at her sides and took a step toward him. “Are you suggesting that I came here to
filch
her ladyship’s valuables?”
Alex allowed a sardonic half smile, one that had been known to make lesser mortals quail. “I only thought you should know in case Aunt Josie wishes to wear a certain piece.”
Laura gave him a withering look. “Then tell me, does she own a fine emerald necklace? Something that will complement a green-and-white gown? If you feel it is
safe
, do send the jewels here on the morrow so that her ladyship might wear them to Lord Scarborough’s ball.”
With that, she flounced past Alex, giving him another alluring whiff of her feminine scent. She offered no curtsy or nod of farewell, only continued on as if he were a footman that she’d already forgotten.
He watched from the doorway as she marched down the wood-paneled corridor. Her shoes kicked up her back hem, affording him a glimpse of slim ankles clad in white stockings and clunky dark shoes. He hadn’t actually expected her motive to be robbery, but he’d wanted to assess her reaction just to make certain.
It was clear that she had been greatly insulted by his insinuation.
Alex combed his fingers through his hair. There was something he was missing. If she sincerely believed in her father’s innocence, why would she be so eager to associate with the highbrow people who had condemned Martin Falkner—and herself by association?
The answer came to him in a flash.
Of course.
Laura hoped to clear her father’s name. She must be planning to find the phantom thief. It was exactly the sort of wildly imprudent scheme that she would devise.
Alex scowled at the spot where she’d disappeared. He could only imagine the uproar if she were to make false accusations toward any member of the ton. It would spark a fiery scandal—and to no purpose since the real thief, her father, was no longer alive.
Laura, however, might just land
herself
in big trouble.
Chapter 8
The following evening, Laura surveyed her reflection in the long pier glass of her dressing room. The light of a sputtering candle revealed an unremarkable woman in a high-necked gown of dark, coffee-colored muslin. Her tawny-blond hair was concealed by a puritanical white lace cap with side lappets that brushed her shoulders.
Spinsterish
, she concluded in satisfaction, picking up the spectacles and donning them to complete the disguise. Among the brilliant butterflies at Lord Scarborough’s ball, she would be a dull brown moth.
She had striven purposefully to create the dowdy persona. Which was why it made no sense at all for her to walk across the small dressing room to a cupboard and draw forth one of the fancy slippers that had been a gift from Lady Milford.
Laura glided her fingertips over the lining of garnet-dyed satin. The splendor of the crystal beadwork fed her beauty-starved soul. It transported her back to a time when she had owned an extensive wardrobe with gowns and accessories for every occasion. A time when she had been oblivious to all but the pleasures of privilege and wealth. A time when she had been pursued by many suitors, though only one had made her heart race.
That had been before Alexander Ross, the Earl of Copley, had proven himself to be a beast.
Laura clutched the slipper to her bosom. The audacity of the man to imply that she could not be trusted with his aunt’s gems! He’d meant it, too. He had
not
sent a courier today with the jewels she had requested, which only verified his low opinion of her character.
Then why had he allowed her to remain in his aunt’s house? Only one reason seemed plausible: he preyed upon servant women. He viewed Laura as a ripe plum for his plucking.
He had demonstrated his intentions by gliding his thumb over her lips and murmuring an intimate proposal.
What we once shared was only the first course. A mere taste of the feast that I could have given you—and could still give you.
At the time, she had not been able to stop an involuntary shiver. The allure of his presence had startled her with its intensity. Despite all that had happened, his magnetism still affected her. Even now, the memory of his touch made her feel flushed and unsettled.
Her spontaneous reaction defied all good sense. It would be madness to let down her guard around such a scoundrel. Long ago, she had been naive enough to fall under his spell. But now she was wiser, having witnessed the heartless way he’d treated Papa.
Alex could go to the devil for all she cared.
The earl
, Laura corrected herself for the umpteenth time. It was only force of habit that kept her thinking of him in a familiar fashion. She needed to be careful not to voice his first name aloud in company.
That shouldn’t be a problem since he seldom attended society events. His presence would only have to be endured when he came here to visit his aunt. Laura had no intention of letting him catch her alone again. He’d soon realize the futility of trying to seduce her.
She gazed down at the slippers, conscious of a strange compulsion to slide them onto her feet. How foolish of her to wish she was still that frivolous young girl. Finding Papa’s murderer was the only thing that mattered now. And since she wouldn’t be dancing at tonight’s ball, she needn’t exchange her plain leather shoes for these fine beaded slippers.
With firm resolve, she replaced Lady Milford’s gift in the cupboard. Then she extinguished the candle, picked up a black knitted shawl, and headed through the gloomy guest bedchamber to the door. Out in the corridor, an assortment of age-darkened landscapes decorated the walls. The only light came from a flickering oil lamp on a side table.
Peering over the tops of her spectacles, she went the few steps along a faded floral carpet runner to Lady Josephine’s quarters. There she paused, somewhat alarmed to find the door partway open.
Had her ladyship become confused and left her chambers? Had she forgotten Laura’s instructions not to navigate the stairs unaided? Or had a maid merely forgotten to shut the door?
Laura rapped twice on the panel to announce herself before stepping inside the bedchamber. Shadows cast by a branch of candles wavered over the cavernous ceiling with its frescoes of cherubs frolicking among the clouds. The heavenly theme continued in the gilt-and-white furniture, the gold brocade hangings on the windows and the four-poster bed, and the carved alabaster mantel where a fire danced softly.
The room might have been a private paradise if not for the excessive bric-a-brac. Every nook and cranny had been filled with displays of ivory painted fans, music boxes, and cloisonné vases on pedestals. On all available surfaces rested a vast collection of ceramic figurines from shepherdesses to goddesses, cavalrymen to Greek heroes, all gifts from Lady Josephine’s beloved late husband.
An array of clocks ticked in discordant rhythm, ormolu on the mantel, delicate porcelain on the writing desk, French gilt on the bedside table. They showed the time to be more or less half past eight, depending upon which one Laura consulted.
In the far corner of the chamber, a yellow rectangle of light spilled from the dressing room doorway. She took it as an encouraging sign that Lady Josephine was still here, after all.
Lowering her chin to peer over the spectacles, Laura picked a path through a maze of footstools and ottomans. No one on the staff except for her seemed concerned that their aging mistress might trip and break a bone. She itched to rescind Mrs. Samson’s order to keep everything in precisely the same place. Perhaps she ought to ask her ladyship’s permission in the presence of the housekeeper. Yes, that might work, for Lady Josephine was always agreeable to suggestions …
Laura had almost reached the dressing room when the glow of light suddenly dimmed. Glancing up, she spied a man blocking the open doorway. A tall, broad-shouldered gentleman in dark evening clothes and snow-white cravat.
Alex.
Her heart catapulted into her throat. His presence in her ladyship’s bedchamber caught Laura so much by surprise that she stopped in mid-step, one foot forward.
“
You?
” she sputtered, then realized how imprudent it would be to let rudeness give him cause to dismiss her. She managed a token curtsy. “Forgive me, my lord. I didn’t expect to find you here.”
“Ah, Miss
Brown
. I came to deliver my aunt’s emeralds. The ones you ordered yesterday.”
The murmur of voices came from inside the dressing room, Lady Josephine’s along with that of her maid. Out here, the clocks ticked into the silence as Laura strove to hide her bitterness that he didn’t trust
her
with the jewels. “I’m sure she appreciates the gesture, my lord. On your way out, you may wish to instruct the butler to lock up the jewelry upon her ladyship’s return tonight. I wouldn’t want to see thieves make off with her valuables.”
So much for meekness. But Laura just couldn’t help herself.
One corner of his mouth quirked, though whether in displeasure or humor, she couldn’t tell. “An excellent suggestion,” he said. “Especially since those ridiculous eyeglasses would blind you to a robber creeping right past you in the corridor.”
“I can manage perfectly well, thank you. If you’ll excuse me now, I’ll check on her ladyship. She may need my assistance.”
Laura stepped forward, and so did he. With her gaze on his blurry figure, she nearly stumbled over a footstool. He caught her elbow and held her upright. “Steady there.”
She found herself hemmed in by chairs and tables with the earl blocking her path. A deep awareness of him flowed through her body. Never in her life had she been in a bedchamber with Alex. It brought to mind unbidden, unsuitable,
unwelcome
thoughts.
“Pray move aside,” she said stiffly. “Your aunt may be ready to depart, and I don’t wish to keep her waiting.”
“You’ve a few minutes yet. The maid is still doing her hair.”
He didn’t budge, so Laura tilted up her chin to aim a stern look at him. The glasses distorted her vision and no doubt spoiled the effect. She scooted them down to the very tip of her nose, only to realize that Alex was ogling her quite outrageously. His gaze roamed from the top of her prim white cap down over her dark frock and shawl, lingering a long moment on her bosom before returning to her face.
A faint smile touched his mouth. “My governess taught me that a gentleman always offers a compliment to a lady. Since I cannot profess to admire such an unattractive gown, may I say that you have very pretty eyes.” He snatched off the spectacles and tucked them inside his coat. “At least now that I can see them.”
Laura’s immediate impulse was to plunge her hand inside his coat and retrieve her property. But there were some boundaries she didn’t dare cross. “Give those back to me at once!”
“In due time. Do you really think you’ll fool people with your disguise?”
“Yes! Not all men stare at women the way you do. Now, haven’t you a gambling club to visit or a debutante to ravish?”
He chuckled, the gruff sound causing a bothersome stir in the pit of her stomach. “I didn’t come here just for my aunt,” he said. “I brought something for you, too.”
“For
me
?”
Intensely curious in spite of herself, Laura watched as he reached into an inner pocket of his coat—the opposite side from where he’d stashed her precious eyeglasses. He drew forth an oblong box made of black enamel and decorated with colorful inlaid flowers.
It looked suspiciously like … a jewel box.
The earl held it out to her. When she didn’t touch it, he grasped her frozen hand and placed the box in her palm. “Open it,” he ordered.
Her fingers closed reflexively around the hard edges. The smooth surface felt warm from being tucked against his chest. She didn’t look down at the box, though; she couldn’t take her eyes from his face. With his dark brown hair tumbled onto his brow and the candlelight bathing his scarred cheek, he resembled a fallen archangel.
No, he was a mere mortal, and a wicked one at that. He had the
droit du seigneur
arrogance of a feudal lord. An earl didn’t give expensive presents to a servant without having a nefarious purpose in mind. He was plying her with trinkets for one reason—to coax her into his bed.
Laura tried to shove the box back at him, but he refused to take it. “All I want from you is my spectacles,” she said tightly.
“You’ll have them. After you open that.”
“Is that a promise?”
He placed his palm over his heart. “On my honor as a gentleman.”
Laura wanted to retort that attempting to buy the favors of his aunt’s hired companion branded him a rogue. But he soon would realize his mistake. No gift of jewelry, regardless how spectacular, could ever tempt her to surrender her virtue to him.
She undid the little latch and slowly opened the box. For a moment she could only stare down at the object that lay nestled against the lining of pale blue velvet. A pair of gold-rimmed spectacles.
Laura glanced up at him in confusion. “What—? Why would you give
this
to me?”
“Allow me to demonstrate.”
He plucked the spectacles from the case and stepped closer to fit them on her nose, carefully sliding the stems inside her spinster’s cap and behind her ears. The brush of his fingers sent tingles over her skin, and the heady masculine scent of his cologne distracted her.
At least until she realized something.
Gazing through the eyeglasses, she could discern every minute detail of his face, from the faint shadow on his jaw to the long thread of his scar to the amber flecks in his brown eyes. “I can see perfectly!”