by Julia Quinn
Roxbury didn’t say anything, so Bella continued. “Or you could ask the women you invite to wear Japanese garb. People like it when you get them involved in the party theme.”
Roxbury stood slowly. “You are the one who organized Lady Neeley’s haunted party, aren’t you?”
Bella smiled widely. “Yes, I have done all of her parties since I’ve been with her, but the Haunted Mansion party is the one that I’m most proud of.”
“How on earth did you get smoke to billow about on the floor like that?” Roxbury asked.
“I’ll never tell,” Bella said, holding her hand up as if she were taking an oath. “So,” she asked. “Who did you come as?”
He grinned, and a more wicked grin Bella had never seen before. It really did make her knees feel weak. “Well, we were asked to come as our favorite famous person that has passed….”
Bella stopped him by placing her hand on his arm. “Oh, no, I remember!” she cried. “I remember you came as Napoleon. You are so naughty, Lord Roxbury, you were supposed to come as someone who was dead.”
“He was, figuratively speaking. I’m just hurt you forgot,” he said.
“Only for a moment.”
“But I did think I was unforgettable,” Lord Roxbury said.
Bella rolled her eyes. “Yes, well, I am sure you are unforgettable to most.” She laughed and realized that her hand still rested on Lord Roxbury’s arm. Her laugh died away quietly, and she cleared her throat as she pulled her hand back and pressed it against her waist.
She really ought to stop touching Lord Roxbury. He would think she was forward.
“Anyway,” she said. “I am sure I will do your party proud, Lord Roxbury.”
He nodded, but his expression had turned a bit dark. He turned away from her, paced toward the window, and then turned back. “Yes,” he said finally. “I am sure you will, Miss Martin.”
“So, I will do a bit of research if you think you would like to continue with the Asian theme?”
“Sounds lovely.”
“We must hurry,” she told him. “Lady Neeley said you wanted this party to happen quickly?”
“Two weeks, actually,” Lord Roxbury said. “Two weeks from today.”
“Goodness,” Bella said. “That gives us very little time. I shall get right to work. I will write up an outline of what I intend and have it delivered here tomorrow.”
“No, I would like you to bring it to me,” Lord Roxbury said.
Bella nodded. “Of course,” she said.
Lord Roxbury smiled, and again, it was a rather wicked smile. “I shall see you out,” he said and put his hand under her elbow.
Bella barely contained the shiver that went through her at his touch. Goodness, she was acting like a ninny. Still, she couldn’t help but notice how very tall Lord Roxbury was beside her and how he smelled very nice. He must use a special soap, for the man’s scent seemed to intoxicate her senses.
She had always known, of course, that she was a sensual person. She loved good smells and liked to spend any extra money on special oils to put in her bath. And she loved soft clothing and had even made herself a silk-covered pillow for her bed.
She had decided, actually, that if she were ever to live alone, her first purchase would be silk sheets for her bed. And then she would get between her sheets utterly naked.
With that fantasy, Bella let out a decidedly languorous sigh.
Lord Roxbury glanced down at her with a strange look in his eye. Bella blinked up at him, pursed her lips, and turned her gaze forward. All of this was not good for her. She would dream about Lord Roxbury’s touch for months, and remember his scent into her dotage, she was sure. And for what?
He was a rake, a scoundrel, a rogue. She didn’t want to have anything to do with him.
With that thought, Bella burst out laughing. As if Lord Roxbury wanted to do anything more than have her plan his party. Goodness, but her imagination did tend to run off on its own at times.
“Is something funny?” Lord Roxbury asked.
“Yes,” she answered and carefully extracted her arm from his grip as they reached the door. “I shall see you tomorrow then?”
Roxbury nodded.
“Good, then I’m off to read up on everything Japanese.”
The small man who had let her in before rushed forward from out of nowhere and opened the door for her.
Bella jumped, and then laughed again. “Thank you,” she said to the butler. He bowed his head, and Bella bounced down the front steps of Lord Roxbury’s home and turned left toward Lady Neeley’s town house.
Herman stood staring after Miss Martin in the exact same manner that Anthony stood staring after Miss Martin. Anthony let his own gaze settle on his butler for a moment.
“Why are you staring at that young lady, Herman?” Anthony asked.
The man jumped a bit and turned toward him. “I think, my lord, that is the first time anyone has ever thanked me for opening the door for them.”
Anthony nodded. “Yes, she’s different, isn’t she, Herman?”
The butler turned to stare down the street again. “Very,” he said.
“There is a bloody handkerchief in the green room, Herman. Have someone attend to it…please,” Anthony said to his butler.
“Of course, my lord.”
“And I’m not using the word as a sobriquet. The handkerchief really is bloody.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Anthony stood for another minute staring out at the large bonnet that adorned Miss Martin’s head. He could still make it out, bobbing along the street. There was something about Miss Martin that had made him decide that he would definitely kiss her before this damned party of hers. He would kiss her for real, so that before she had turned thirty, she would truly have been kissed.
But, suddenly, Anthony realized he could not do that. She wasn’t like the jaded married women he usually played with. Miss Martin was unlike anyone he had ever met, really.
She ought to have slapped him and scolded him, yelled at him at the very least for grabbing her like he had. Instead, she had laughed.
With a long sigh, Anthony closed the door. No, he could not take advantage of someone like Miss Martin. He would definitely make sure that he was not home when she returned the next day.
Chapter 3
…And in our list of suspects, one cannot discount the elusive Miss Martin. As Lady Neeley’s longtime companion, she would have had, more than any other partygoer, an intimate knowledge of the house and of the bracelet. And, again owing to her position in Lady Neeley’s household, it is difficult to imagine that her financial situation would be such that she would not be in need of the funds that such a rubied bauble might bring.
But This Author would be amiss if it were not pointed out that Lady Neeley refused to entertain even a hint of the notion that one of her servants, and in particular her devoted companion, might have been the thief. And she has declared, quite publicly, that she will not have Miss Martin’s rooms searched.
So perhaps the only way one will be able to tell if Miss Martin is indeed an adventuress of the most larcenous kind is if the woman in question suddenly prances down Bond Street with coins dripping from her fingertips.
Unlikely, but an interesting image nonetheless.
LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 31 MAY 1816
Anthony tried very hard to pretend that he didn’t notice Miss Martin. If he were in his right mind, he never would have seen her at all. She did tend to blend in with the decorations.
Unfortunately he was not in his right mind. The second he walked in the door of Lady Hargreaves’ Grand Ball, he spotted her. She was sitting on one of the few chairs available.
She had left the atrocious bonnet at home, thankfully, and wore a dainty cap pinned atop her dark hair. With the huge bonnet, he had not noticed that Miss Martin wore her hair unfashionably short. There was not a piece of hair on her head longer than two inches, if that. And each lock of hair seemed to have a mi
nd of its own, curling this way and that.
Anthony had always liked his women to have long hair that hung about them as they made love. In that very moment, though, he decided it just might be interesting to make love to a woman with a mop of hair that would tickle his nose as she kissed his neck.
He shook his head and looked decidedly away from Miss Isabella Martin. Surely, she was a witch to have him thinking such strange things in the middle of a ballroom. Especially during Lady Hargreaves’ Grand Ball. He had never in his life had a lascivious thought at Lady Hargreaves’s Annual Grand Ball.
Anthony made his usual rounds kissing the hands of the old, decrepit, married, and debutantes—the hands of as many women as he could so the gossipmongers could not attach him to anyone in particular.
Many thought it was Anthony’s way of driving his father mad, but really it was just so the old man would not get his hopes up.
Tonight, Anthony had a devil of a time keeping his mind on whose hand he had kissed and whose he had not. It would be the worst of all crimes if he kissed someone’s hand twice. The gossip columns would surely talk of nothing else for at least a week. His father would announce an engagement and order invites.
Anthony decided he had best make his way to the card room. Probably, he should not have come at all, but he had to admit a perverse interest in watching Lady Hargreaves play her grandchildren like toys on a string. Poor sods, all vying for her favor so they would be named in her will. She’d probably outlive them all.
As he maneuvered through the groups of people, all standing because of the deplorable lack of chairs, Anthony spotted Lady Easterly. He caught her eye and winked at her, and Sophia winked back with a smile. Anthony made it a custom always to wink at the statuesque blonde, because she always winked back.
He had tried, actually, to offer particularly warm solace to the woman when her husband had abandoned her twelve years ago, but he’d been politely rebuffed. She had stayed true to her husband, as far as Anthony could tell. A good woman, that one.
And with that thought, Anthony caught sight of Miss Martin once again. The exact opposite of Lady Easterly, Miss Martin: a small, dark girl sitting on a chair in the corner.
Anthony stumbled a bit, something he was not used to in the least. Miss Martin looked over just at that moment and their gazes locked. Even from a distance, Anthony could see the gray of her truly beautiful eyes. The thing that got to him, though, was the way they shone with recognition when she saw him.
And then she stood.
Anthony couldn’t help but stop as Miss Martin pushed through the crowd toward him. Plucky thing, seeking him out. He couldn’t remember a woman in his lifetime who’d actually approached him at a party. Especially a young single woman like Miss Martin. Actually, she really wasn’t all that young. It was just that she seemed so fresh and new. She made him feel like a jaded and terribly sad old man.
She managed, finally, to reach him. “Lord Roxbury!” she said, slightly out of breath. “I had hoped to see you.” She leaned toward him and put one of her gloved hands on his forearm.
“Really?” he asked, a bit shaken by the contact. She didn’t even notice it. But he did. And he had noticed that she’d touched him when they had first met as well.
He liked it. But he shouldn’t.
And, damn it, she should not be this naïve at thirty. Some man was sure to take advantage of her. Why on earth was Lady Neeley not paying this girl more heed?
“I delivered the plans myself, just as you asked, but you weren’t at home,” she said with a smile. “I realized that we hadn’t set a time. I hope that you received them.”
“Ah, yes, Herman made sure that I got them.”
“Oh good, and what do you think, then?”
She waited for his answer, her small face lifted to his, gray eyes glittering like stars. She really was a fetching little thing: so eager and so damned happy. What did this gel have to be so happy about?
“They seemed fine,” he said, though he had not given them a second glance. Which had earned him quite a glare from Herman. Anthony was rather sure his butler was falling in love with the woman.
“Good, good, I shall continue, then. I will need to have accounts opened for me in your name at the places that I listed so that I can order everything. I made a list, of course, of all the amounts that I will spend. I’m quite proud, really. I’ve managed to whittle it down by making the invitations myself. I’ve the most wonderful idea for the invitations. They are going to be lovely. I’ve learned how to make these cranes folded out of paper, and the invitation will be written on the paper.”
“Hmm,” Anthony said, for he could not truly concentrate on Miss Martin’s words. It was all due to the fact that he had just realized that she had a lovely mouth, her lips like those on a perfectly painted doll. Truly, he decided in that moment, he did adore the way her upper lip was shaped like a perfect bow. He was rather sure he would enjoy becoming intimate with this woman’s mouth.
She smiled up at him. “Are you happy with it all?”
“Oh yes,” he said.
“Good, I am so glad. I have never before worked with anyone but Lady Neeley, and she lets me do whatever I want.”
“I’ve noticed,” Anthony said darkly. Honestly, Miss Martin needed a keeper. She was a lovely, innocent woman just waiting for some lecherous rogue to ruin her completely. He glanced around. “Where is Lady Neeley?”
Miss Martin shrugged. “She was speaking with Mr. Thompson and Lady Mathilda, and so I quickly found a seat out of the way. I am not thrilled at how Lady Neeley is dealing with the problem of her missing bracelet, so I try and stay away when she speaks of it.”
“I have heard that she is not being subtle about accusing the people who were at her party.”
Miss Martin rolled her eyes. “Isn’t it horrible?”
“I also noticed that you seem to be a suspect as well.”
Miss Martin giggled. “Oh, that is only in Lady Whistledown’s column. Lady Neeley would never accuse any of her staff.”
Most women would probably have taken to their bed, deathly ill, upon seeing their name linked to thievery in Lady Whistledown’s column. Obviously, this was not true of the giggling Miss Martin.
“Can you believe it, Lord Roxbury?” she asked now, her eyes lit from within. “My name graced Lady Whistledown’s column. I’ve never been so thrilled in my life. I have decided that it is because of my birthday. I was a bit put out when I remembered that I was to turn thirty with so many things undone. And here it is, my birthday two weeks away and I’ve been named in a gossip column and kissed by a lord!”
This last bit earned them a few glances.
“Whoops,” Miss Martin said. “I guess I should be a bit less exuberant in public, or I shall grace Lady Whistledown’s column again. I’ll take my leave then, and send around a copy of the invitation to you tomorrow. Your father has given me a list of attendees, so I shall not need that from you.”
That was very bad. “No,” Anthony said. “I shall send you a guest list. The one my father gave you can be burned.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. And then she laughed and put her hand on his forearm as she leaned into him. “Your father seemed very determined that you should invite the people on his list.”
Anthony just nodded. Never in his life had a woman flirted with him so. And the worst part was she didn’t even realize that she was flirting.
He could see it in her eyes. She had no idea that when she leaned toward him he caught a whiff of the rose water she used. And that it was making him absolutely randy.
“I must ask you,” he said then, “are you a part of Lady Neeley’s staff?”
Miss Martin straightened and blinked. “Excuse me?” she asked.
“Well, you said before that Lady Neeley trusted everyone on her staff, and I was wondering if you were hired by her. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I could swear that my father once told me you were related to Lady Neeley.”
Mi
ss Martin smiled widely. “Really? You actually remember hearing about me?” She clapped her hands. “How lovely!”
“You are easily amused, I think.”
“Too true.” She grinned hugely, obviously not at all put out at having a laugh about herself. “But, anyway, I am both. I am a hired relative. Lady Neeley pays me for the work I do as her companion. And she is second cousin to my mother.”
“And your mother and father are where?”
Miss Martin cocked her head to the side, her gray eyes dimming a little. “They are both gone.”
“Oh, I am sorry.”
“It’s all right. They were older when I was conceived. I feel blessed that I had a whole twenty years with them.”
Anthony glanced away for a moment. Though his mother had died twenty years before, he still had his father. The fact that he had never in his life thought of that fact as a blessing made him feel very much like a wretched toad right now.
As he looked about the room, Anthony realized that there were a few people watching him and the innocent Miss Martin. Damn.
“Why?” she asked him then.
He turned toward her again. “Excuse me?”
“Why do you want to know about my relationship to Lady Neeley? Are you worried about the party? Do you want me to bring you some samples of my work?”
“Oh no, it is not that at all, really,” Anthony said. “I was just interested….”
His own words stopped him. He was interested, he’d said. And it was true. He was just plain interested in this strange creature that was Miss Martin.
Truth be told, he did not find many things interesting. Thus, he found it quite alarming that he was interested in the answers Miss Martin was giving him to his questions. On top of this rather strange phenomenon, Anthony realized that he really did want to show Miss Martin that she had not been kissed…not really, and not yet.
At the very least, the latter bit was much more true to his character.