help you, Mr. Lake.”
He arched a brow. “You’ve been helpful enough, my lady, thank you.”
“No.” She tugged him to a stop by his arm. “The diamond was snatched from about my neck. It is my responsibility to get it back. Besides, I’ve a good deal of money invested in Hope and Company stock. If word gets out that Hope cannot safeguard his own assets, much less anyone else’s—well, I don’t need to tell you that the bank will be ruined, and so will I. Please, Mr. Lake. We’ve got to find the French Blue. I’ve got to find it, before I lose everything.”
If only she knew the safety of England, and all her brave soldiers, were at stake, too, he thought. If the diamond was lost, Violet would not be the only one to suffer.
Henry tugged a hand through the hair at the back of his neck. His heart beat an uneven tattoo inside his chest. Even with all this danger and talk of destitution—even with the very real threat of defeat looming over him—all he could think about was getting up to that damned drawing room.
“I suppose I need all the help I can get,” he said, sighing. “We’ve got more information than we started with this morning, but it’s still not enough. You might contact me through Hope if you find out more.”
Without waiting for a reply, he bounded up the narrow kitchen stairs. Even as he told himself he was heading for the front door—it would be the first, and likely only, time he would use it—his gait slowed as he approached the drawing room.
The doors were slightly ajar; a beam of bright sunshine separated them, illuminating tiny motes of dust as they floated drunkenly through the still air. He could hear the murmured purr of conversation.
He stepped closer, peering through the crack between the doors.
His heart fell with a squish to the floor.
Caroline sat on the edge of a sofa, her hair provocatively mussed; she wore a virginal morning gown that did not suit her, not one bit. Even though there were dark smudges beneath her eyes, they appeared very much alive, and hopeful, as if she were keen to see someone as much as he longed to see her.
She bent her neck to politely laugh at something; the high collar of her gown pulled back, revealing a telling raspberry that marred the smooth skin of her neck.
Good God, in his wanton abandon he’d marked her.
Henry wasn’t sure if he was horrified, or proud, or (secretly) a little of both.
He hadn’t time to decide, for at that moment Caroline looked back in his direction; she met his gaze through the crack in the door. Her eyes flashed with surprise. The smile faded from her lips; they parted, slightly, as the breath caught in her throat.
“Caroline!” Henry jumped at the sound of the earl’s voice behind him. “Caroline—oh, hullo, Mr. Lake, pardon me, I’ve just got to collect my dearest sister—Caroline! Let’s go.”
Harclay poked his head into the drawing room. “Come along, love, you look like you could use a rest—no offense.”
“None taken,” she murmured, her eyes never leaving Henry’s. She rose, and appeared about to say something—to him, to Harclay, he couldn’t quite tell—when Lady Violet appeared at his elbow. She and Harclay exchanged a heated look before she turned back to Henry.
“Ah, Mr. Lake, there you are,” she said, tugging him aside. “You’re coming with me. You know, two minds are better than one, that sort of thing.”
He would’ve groaned aloud had the realization not dawned on him at that very moment. It was obvious Lady Violet titillated Lord Harclay to the point of distraction; he was taken with her, and would probably follow her to the gates of hell (which is where that blackguard belonged anyway). And Caroline, being Harclay’s dearest sister, was close with him.
It was safe to assume, then, that wherever Lady Violet was, Lord Harclay would soon appear. And where Harclay turned up—well, Caroline wouldn’t be far behind.
Yes, yes, Henry had pledged to leave Caroline
He arched a brow. “You’ve been helpful enough, my lady, thank you.”
“No.” She tugged him to a stop by his arm. “The diamond was snatched from about my neck. It is my responsibility to get it back. Besides, I’ve a good deal of money invested in Hope and Company stock. If word gets out that Hope cannot safeguard his own assets, much less anyone else’s—well, I don’t need to tell you that the bank will be ruined, and so will I. Please, Mr. Lake. We’ve got to find the French Blue. I’ve got to find it, before I lose everything.”
If only she knew the safety of England, and all her brave soldiers, were at stake, too, he thought. If the diamond was lost, Violet would not be the only one to suffer.
Henry tugged a hand through the hair at the back of his neck. His heart beat an uneven tattoo inside his chest. Even with all this danger and talk of destitution—even with the very real threat of defeat looming over him—all he could think about was getting up to that damned drawing room.
“I suppose I need all the help I can get,” he said, sighing. “We’ve got more information than we started with this morning, but it’s still not enough. You might contact me through Hope if you find out more.”
Without waiting for a reply, he bounded up the narrow kitchen stairs. Even as he told himself he was heading for the front door—it would be the first, and likely only, time he would use it—his gait slowed as he approached the drawing room.
The doors were slightly ajar; a beam of bright sunshine separated them, illuminating tiny motes of dust as they floated drunkenly through the still air. He could hear the murmured purr of conversation.
He stepped closer, peering through the crack between the doors.
His heart fell with a squish to the floor.
Caroline sat on the edge of a sofa, her hair provocatively mussed; she wore a virginal morning gown that did not suit her, not one bit. Even though there were dark smudges beneath her eyes, they appeared very much alive, and hopeful, as if she were keen to see someone as much as he longed to see her.
She bent her neck to politely laugh at something; the high collar of her gown pulled back, revealing a telling raspberry that marred the smooth skin of her neck.
Good God, in his wanton abandon he’d marked her.
Henry wasn’t sure if he was horrified, or proud, or (secretly) a little of both.
He hadn’t time to decide, for at that moment Caroline looked back in his direction; she met his gaze through the crack in the door. Her eyes flashed with surprise. The smile faded from her lips; they parted, slightly, as the breath caught in her throat.
“Caroline!” Henry jumped at the sound of the earl’s voice behind him. “Caroline—oh, hullo, Mr. Lake, pardon me, I’ve just got to collect my dearest sister—Caroline! Let’s go.”
Harclay poked his head into the drawing room. “Come along, love, you look like you could use a rest—no offense.”
“None taken,” she murmured, her eyes never leaving Henry’s. She rose, and appeared about to say something—to him, to Harclay, he couldn’t quite tell—when Lady Violet appeared at his elbow. She and Harclay exchanged a heated look before she turned back to Henry.
“Ah, Mr. Lake, there you are,” she said, tugging him aside. “You’re coming with me. You know, two minds are better than one, that sort of thing.”
He would’ve groaned aloud had the realization not dawned on him at that very moment. It was obvious Lady Violet titillated Lord Harclay to the point of distraction; he was taken with her, and would probably follow her to the gates of hell (which is where that blackguard belonged anyway). And Caroline, being Harclay’s dearest sister, was close with him.
It was safe to assume, then, that wherever Lady Violet was, Lord Harclay would soon appear. And where Harclay turned up—well, Caroline wouldn’t be far behind.
Yes, yes, Henry had pledged to leave Caroline
Similar Books
