Page 28 of A Daring Pursuit (The Clandestine Sapphire Society #2)

T he next day, Noah and Isabelle had given in to Geneva’s demands of leaving her bed, but the sitting room was as far as they allowed her to venture, and she was mightily sick of it, though her confinement had consisted of all of one day. She sat in a comfortable chair that afforded her a nice view out the window. A fat lot of good that did, however, as the clouds were darkening again. One might believe one was under the coal-smoked skies of London. There was one advantage, and that was the freshness of the country. So it didn’t smell as putrid.

Docia sat in the other comfortable chair angled toward the cozying fire, studying her perfectly shaped nails. Her eyes flicked to Geneva then dropped again. “What makes you believe Julius is truly your brother?” While her tone was depleted of its biting edge, it sounded almost… accusatory.

“You sound… curious.” Concerned, Geneva studied her… rival? Nemesis? Whatever her feelings regarding Docia, they felt complicated . The words also sent her hackles rising. She tamped back the defensive urge, inhaling deeply instead. “Did you know that Lord Pender—the late Lord Pender—paid my school fees to Miss Greensley’s?”

Docia raised her head, meeting Geneva’s eyes. “Why would he do that?”

“Quite the conundrum, isn’t it?”

Her eyes fell once more. “Still, it’s a stretch to believe that Julius is your half-brother. You are nothing alike.”

“I disagree.” The biting edge Docia had abandoned, Geneva took up proudly.

“As do I,” Julius said from the door. He strolled over to Geneva and kissed her cheek. “How are you feeling? You appear much better.”

She’d slept the previous day away, only waking for bouts of willow bark, peppermint, and ginger tea doused with honey and lemon, along with broth poured down her by Pasha. However vile the concoctions she’d been forced to consume, they’d worked wonders on the throat irritation. Full recovery was within her grasp. “What of you? Your arm?”

He glanced at the door then slipped his arm from the sling and slowly straightened it. “It distresses Isabelle when I move my arm,” he said, grinning. “I say, the stitches itch horribly.”

“How does that work, exactly? Do they come out on their own? Will they bleed?”

Docia stood abruptly. “I retract my doubts, Geneva. The two of you are identical peas in a pod,” she said with a show of her previous winning personality of disgust. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Geneva bit her lip to keep from laughing outright until the outer door shut a little harder than necessary. She met the gleam in Julius’s eyes, sending the two of them into gales of laughter and the ache in her head back to the far reaches.

He dropped into Docia’s abandoned chair.

“Noah said you don’t recall the events leading up to your fall.”

And just like that, the sharp pain pierced her head. She pressed her fingertips against her temples, black waves swallowing her.

“Geneva! What did you do to her, Jules?”

*

Fear cascaded through Noah as he charged through the room. He tossed the letters he held on the low table and knelt beside her, prepared to lift her up. “Water. Quickly. I’ll get her to her bed,” he barked to his brother. “What did you say to her?”

Julius didn’t answer and Noah glanced over his shoulder. His brother’s face was stark white. “I-I…”

Geneva’s eyes fluttered open amid a groan. “Quit coddling me.” She struggled out of his hold. “Stop. Just stop.” Her breaths were too rapid. They matched pace with the fluttering pulse in her neck and the furious pounding of his heart. “I’m not a child. I don’t understand what’s happening, but a bed will not fix it.”

“Perhaps that is exactly the remedy,” he said, low enough for her ears only.

Her widened gaze shot to his.

“That’s right,” he whispered. “I wish to take you to bed and drive all your fears away.”

“Water?”

“Right here,” Julius said. The hard edge in his tone was not encouraging.

Noah glanced over his shoulder and up at his younger brother. And winced.

Julius held out the glass with a steady hand. “If I ever hear you speak again to my sister in such a way, I’ll run you through.”

Geneva snatched the glass from his hand and gulped down the contents. “That is quite enough from the both of you.” She lifted the glass and teetered it side to side for Julius. But he was too busy glaring at Noah to notice. “Take this,” she snapped.

Her sharpness jarred Julius and he snatched it from her, scowling and stalking away.

“He’s right,” Noah said softly, regretting—no, not regretting, exactly. He’d said what he’d meant. What was it about her that had his level head deserting him to the farthest regions of the cosmos? “I should have—”

Her eyes went over his shoulder and came back to his. Her fingers, two, crossed his lips. “I…” Her gazed dropped then raised again. “I understand.”

His lips curved slightly. He pressed his fingers over hers and kissed their tips. “No. I don’t believe you do. But you will. Soon,” he promised. He glanced over his shoulder. Julius was just setting the glass on a table near the window with his back to them. “Now is not the time.” He came to his feet. “Are you certain you are well?”

“Yes,” she said with a scowl of her own.

“I’m relieved to hear it. Isabelle has set a date for her musicale. A week hence.”

“What are these letters, Noah?”

“Gads, I’d nearly forgotten. You received a post from Lady Abra,” he said to her.

Her dark-blue eyes lit up for what seemed the first time in days. “I’ll come get it.”

“No, you won’t.”

Julius sounded like the man he was fast approaching, Noah thought with a pang, a whole other onslaught of emotion pelting him.

Julius sauntered over and handed her Lady Abra’s missive. The other envelope he held out to Noah. “This one appears to be from Lucius.”

“I’ve lost my blasted head,” he muttered, grabbing it and moving to the settee. He ripped it open and read.

Well, Noah, my stop in London has proved most enlightening. Your enchanting houseguest, Miss Wimbley, is the talk of the Beau Monde. Or should I say, her bloodied dress is…

Noah pushed a hand through his hair. “Christ.”

“Oh, no…” Geneva’s low wail echoed through the sitting room.

He cut his glance to her, then flicked his eyes back to the letter he held. “Your dress?”

Geneva groaned. “Lady Westbridge will never allow me to see my friend again.”

“What of Lord Westbridge?”

Her features tightened. “At one time, I would have said he would never stand between our friendship. But now…” She glowered with the familiar bold fierceness and his insides contracted with yearning. “There is good news. Baron Ruskin has asked for her hand. They are betrothed now.”

From the tone in her voice, Noah couldn’t decide if she was relieved or sad. “Don’t you like the baron? I thought he was most congenial.”

She blew out a pursed breath. “I just hope she is not marrying him for the wrong reasons,” she said glumly.

Noah clucked his tongue. “Ton matches are complicated, my dear.”

Julius dropped beside him. “Noah couldn’t be more right, Gen. The important thing to remember is that Lady Abra not only needs you in her life, but is damn fortunate to have you.”

Tears dampened Geneva’s lashes and she shook her head. The note from Lady Abra trembled in her fingers.

“I take it she informed you of the latest rampant scandal in which you feature?”

“Oh, yes.” She handed him the note.

Gen, I fear you must avoid London for a time. Mother has taken great delight in gossiping with that loose tongue of hers. She has recounted the Incident to any and everyone who would lend an ear. And, believe me, she found no shortage of listeners. Papa will eventually come around. You are, and shall always be, my dearest friend. By the bye, Lord Ruskin has asked for my hand, and I have accepted. But do not fret, my dear. The CSS will live on. You may count on me.

Eternally and unceasingly your friend,

Lady Abra Washington

“‘The CSS’?” Noah murmured.

Geneva waved out a hand and did not deign to answer. Someday, he would have answers regarding this CSS mystery.

“I don’t understand the issue,” Noah said. “Lady Abra seemed quite enamored with Ruskin.”

“Ah, but Lady Westbridge is not. She has much higher aspirations than a mere baron for Abra.” Geneva’s eyes flashed. “There will be much tension until that union is tied.”

She struggled to her feet. “I must return to London.”

Noah pushed her gently back into her chair. “Not so fast, Miss Wimbley. You are in no condition to travel. Besides, Lord Westbridge is quite capable of handling his wife.”

“You don’t know her. Lady Westbridge will do everything in her power to undermine Abra’s choice,” Geneva bit out.

Still, Noah was touched on Geneva’s behalf regarding her friend. “I think,” he said slowly, handing the note back. “There is as much to be said for what Lady Abra has written as to what she has not.”

Geneva frowned. “What do you mean?”

“If Lady Westbridge is as abhorrent as her behavior displayed at Stonemare—”

“She is.”

“—then it should suffice to say, this message was written in the event it was intercepted.”

“But by all accounts, Abra accuses her of being a gossipmonger.”

Julius snorted. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

Geneva snorted as if he were citing something obtuse.

“Perhaps she was secretly hoping the ungracious woman would read it.” Julius grinned. “I would if I were her.”

Geneva tilted her head, and in that fleeting moment, Noah discerned the minutest of similarities between her and Julius. An instant later, her lips tilted in a smile of understanding. “Yes. I see what you mean,” she said, slowly grinning. “Lady Westbridge would hate the line about Lord Westbridge coming around. He really is a good man. I hope he can forgive me.” She bit her lip and Noah wanted to kiss her.

“But you did nothing, Gen. Nothing. It wasn’t your fault you tripped and got blood on your dress,” Julius huffed out in full indignation.

“No, but Lord Westbridge had taken Abra and me aside and spelled out in no uncertain terms that another scandal would not be tolerated.”

Noah’s brows rose. “ Another scandal?” He watched as her normally creamy complexion turned an alarming shade of crimson.

“Abra told her father we were going to Cornwall, not Northumberland,” she admitted. “To visit Meredith—er, Lady Pender.”

“Good God. And he believed you?” Shaking his head, he fell against the settee’s back and folded his arms over his chest. “Obviously, the two of you need keepers.”

She bristled. “Our plan would have worked if—”

“If my father hadn’t died,” he finished for her.

Her shoulders fell. “Yes.” But she rallied and squared them. “In my defense, I told her we should return to London before anyone found out.”

Noah leaned forward, looked into those navy eyes. “And what a tragedy that would have been,” he said softly. “We’d have never met otherwise.”

Julius plopped down beside him. “Nor would I have learned I had a sister.”