A Poisoned Season by TASHA ALEXANDER Page A

contain nothing of consequence, just a friendly correspondence with a man called Léonard. Cécile says he was Marie Antoinette’s hairdresser and a close confidant. She entrusted him with her personal jewels when it became clear the royal family was in danger. It was he who took them out of France and eventually brought them to her daughter after the revolution.”
    “Was the pink diamond one of those jewels?”
    “Yes.”
    “That’s most likely why Francis had the letters. They, in a sense, go with the stone.”
    “I am certain they are somehow more significant.”
    “Has Cécile read them? It’s possible that a native speaker of the language might notice something you overlooked.”
    “I had not considered that. I’ll give them to her when I get home.”
    “Is there something else, Emily?” he asked, looking at me closely. “What haven’t you told me? Your brow creases right here”—he touched me lightly—“whenever you are not being candid with me.”
    “There’s no need to accuse me of deception. I hadn’t finished with my story.”
    “I see.” He raised an eyebrow. “Do continue.”
    “I have been involved in a number of strange incidents.”
    “A number?”

    “Three.” I described the coach that followed me from Richmond, the note from my anonymous admirer, and last, Mr. Berry’s visit to my house.
    “Did he try to harm you?”
    “No. Jeremy was with me.”
    “I see.” He stood very still.
    “Colin, you know that—”
    “Was Cécile with you?”
    “She was at a ball.”
    “Right.” He cleared his throat. “Well, thank heavens you at least had Bainbridge.” His demeanor had not changed, but I could sense an increasing tension in him.
    “Colin, you know that Jeremy is nothing more than a friend to me.”
    “Of course.” The tension did not dissipate. I took his hand in mine, wanting to reassure him. He continued to speak in a most businesslike manner. “I am most sorry that my work has taken me away from you so much lately.”
    “I understand.”
    “To make matters worse, I must go now. I’m to meet our friend Berry on Rotten Row.”
    “Are you free this evening?”
    “I had planned to go to the Ellesmeres’ ball. Will you be there?”
    “No. I wasn’t invited. I’m afraid that the combination of my intellectual pursuits and these ridiculous rumors about Jeremy is having a rather detrimental effect on my social life. Not that I particularly mind. It makes the mail much easier to manage.”
    “You should, perhaps, ask Miss Seward to use someone else as the front person for her false engagement. It’s one thing for Bainbridge to embroil himself in scandal. He’ll recover from it unscathed. It might not be so easy for you.”

    “What do I care about that? The fewer invitations I receive, the fewer excuses I have to make for not accepting them.”
    “You say that now, but I don’t think you would enjoy being cut from society.”
    “I hardly think there’s any danger of that happening,” I said, adjusting my hat and preparing to leave. “Am I really to have no kiss good-bye?”
    “Are you really accepting my proposal?”
    “I might if it weren’t such fun to tease you about not accepting it.”
    “Then I see we are at an impasse,” he said with a most charming smile. He raised my hand to his lips but did not even brush my glove with them, then saw me out of the house.
    I had not gone half a block down Park Lane when an open carriage pulled to the side of the road and stopped next to me.
    “Emily, my dear, dear girl! How lovely to see you,” my mother said, so forgetting herself that she reached out of the open carriage as if she would embrace me. What could I have done to gain such uncharacteristic approval? “You must be on your way to see me—I knew you would come today. I do wish your father were home, but he’s at his club. He’s been utterly silent on the subject, you know. Just like him, isn’t it?”
    I was thoroughly confused. “What