The Promise in a Kiss by Stephanie Laurens

yes, you are right. Uncle Fabien likes positive results. No sense in missing a chance to claim his notice.” He waved at Villard. “Remind me to write first thing in the morning.”
    â€œIf I might be so bold, m’sieur, the fast packet leaves early in the day. If you were to write this evening and a rider left tonight, monsieur le comte would have your good news days earlier.”
    Louis plopped down on the bed and stared at Villard.
    Villard calmly added, “And monsieur le comte does like to have the most up-to-date news.”
    Louis continued to stare, then he grimaced and waved at Villard. “Bring me my writing case. I will write my communiqué now, and you may see it off immediately.”
    Villard bowed. “At once, m’sieur.”

Chapter Four

    T HE next morning Helena paced her bedchamber; eyes narrowed, she considered the night before.
    Considered the unexpected tack Sebastian had taken.
    Remembered her dreams.
    Wondered again what it would have felt like to spread her hands over his chest, beneath the silk and satin of his coat, to feel the width and weight of his muscles . . .
    â€œNon, non, non, et non!”
    Furious, she whirled, kicking her skirts before her. “ That is why he did it!”
    To make her dream, yearn, desire . . . want. To make her come to him, surrender like some witless lovelorn maid.
    A sneaky, underhanded conquest.
    Safe and alone in her bedchamber, she could admit it might have worked.
    â€œBut not now.” Not now that she’d realized his true goal. She was twenty-three—no starry-eyed innocent when it came to the games men played. A seduction could be achieved by more than one route; monsieur le duc assuredly knew every road.
    â€œEvery twist in every road. Hah!”
    He would not catch her.
    There was only just over a week to go before the ton left London; she could assuredly hold him at bay until then.
    â€œM ignonne, it is customary to pay some attention to the gentleman who partners you in the dance.”
    Helena shifted her gaze to Sebastian and widened her eyes. “I was merely taking note of the ladies’ jewels.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œWhy?” She stepped around him, circled, then returned to face him, her gaze straying once more to the ladies nearby. “Because the quality here is quite remarkable.”
    â€œGiven your heritage, you must possess a king’s ransom in jewelry.”
    â€œOui, but I left most of it in the vault at Cameralle.” She gestured at the simple sapphire necklace she was wearing. “I did not bring the heavier pieces—I did not realize the need.”
    â€œYour beauty, mignonne, outshines any jewels.”
    She smiled, but not at him. “You have a very quick tongue, Your Grace.”
    H elena was at the breakfast table the next morning when a package was delivered.
    â€œIt’s for you.” Louis dropped it beside her plate as he joined her.
    Marjorie peered up the table. “Who is it from?”
    Helena turned the package in her hands. “It doesn’t say.”
    â€œOpen it.” Marjorie set down her cup. “There will be a card inside.”
    Helena tore open the wrappings and reached in. Her fingers touched the plush cover of a jeweler’s case—a frisson of presentiment raced over her skin. She stared at the open package, almost afraid to draw out the contents. Then she steeled herself and pulled.
    A green leather case. She set aside the paper, opened the case. Inside, on a bed of deep green velvet, nestled a very long double strand of the purest pearls. The strands were interrupted at three points by single stones, each a perfect rectangle, cut very simply to showcase their color. At first she guessed peridot, but as she lifted the necklace and draped it between her hands, the stones flashed and the light caught them; their depth of color was revealed. Emeralds. Three large pure emeralds more vividly green