Page 32 of A Daring Pursuit (The Clandestine Sapphire Society #2)

N oah rubbed his hands over Geneva’s cold arms despite the blazing fire in the library’s hearth. “I have something for you,” he said.

Her arms wrapped around his waist, her head lay on his shoulder. “I don’t need a thing. I have you.”

“I never found your locket, but I have something else I hope will suffice.”

A startled laugh erupted from her. Then she started to giggle. Uncontrollably.

Noah shook her. “What the devil?”

Tears were filling her eyes.

Panic roared through him. “I tried, darling. Truly, I searched my father’s chamber, but there was nothing there. I checked the trunks in the attic Winfield’s had packed away. The safe only Father used. I’m so sorry, love. I couldn’t find it. I was even going to rifle through Julius’s private belongings. I’d given it to him when he was just a lad. As a keepsake from… his mother. But it was kept in the safe.”

Still, she laughed until he realized she couldn’t stop.

He crashed his mouth over hers. A move that sobered her in an instant. He licked her lips. They parted and he stroked his tongue against hers, one that felt of crushed velvet. The texture drove him wild, along with her response that drove every coherent thought from his head. Slowly, he pulled away and studied her. He tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and gently dabbed the tears from her face. “What was that, love? I don’t understand.”

“The locket. I found the locket,” she choked out, taking the handkerchief from him.

“What? Where?”

“What is this about my locket?” Isabelle strolled in, Julius on her heels, startling him.

His brother’s eyes narrowed. “More importantly, why would you rummage through my personal belongings?”

“Don’t be angry with Noah,” Geneva chastised him. “I came to Northumberland to find a ruby locket my mother had promised me when I was just a little girl. For the longest time, I’d thought I had dreamed it, but then Abra and I found a box under a plank in the floor of my flat. There was a letter she was writing to Lord Pender, er, the late earl—”

“Go on,” Julius said.

Noah intervened. “I offered to help her find it. But it had disappeared from the safe.”

A sheepish expression crept over Julius’s face. “I, um, gave it to Isabelle, but I told her never to tell you. I thought it would hurt your feelings if you knew. It wasn’t as if I could ever wear it.”

Relief hit Noah in the chest.

Julius’s eyes took on a distant gaze. “Sometimes I would see you take it from the safe and watch you studying it. You looked so… so troubled.”

Noah led Geneva to the seating before the fire and dropped next to her. Isabelle and Julius followed.

“I didn’t know the entirety of what happened until Geneva stormed Stonemare.” Noah took her hand and squeezed it.

Julius laughed. “I gave it to Isabelle for her twelfth birthday.”

Noah shook his head, touched in spite of the unfolding events.

Isabelle tugged at the delicate chain around her neck and displayed a large ruby encased in a gold filigree frame that resembled a wreath of leaves. “This is yours?” she directed to Geneva.

“No, my sweet,” Geneva told her. “It’s yours now. I’m thrilled Julius gave it to you.”

Docia, Sander, and Verda filtered in.

“Oh! Jewelry.” Docia hurried over. She held the locket on her flattened palm, then turned it this way and that. “It looks remarkably like one my mother used to have. She was buried with it…”

Geneva’s head tilted, her body stiffened. “Buried… How old were you?”

“Five or six. I don’t remember.” Docia’s gaze never left the piece, one finger tracing the intricately woven leaves. “It’s latched. Have you ever opened it?”

“It requires a key that I don’t have. I didn’t wish to break it.” Isabelle’s wistful tone broke Noah’s heart.

“Perhaps I can help,” he said.

“Key?” Geneva bolted from the settee like the cannonball that had nearly felled Wellington at Waterloo, as history recounted. She dashed from the chamber as if fire licked at her heels.

*

Geneva burst into the Morpho Suite and into her bedchamber, startling Pasha out of her skin. “Quickly, where is my reticule? The one from London,” she demanded.

“Of course.” Pasha hurried to the wardrobe and dug through, quickly returning with Geneva’s dark-blue reticule. Made of a sturdy cotton, the dark color hid much of the wear, as Geneva had been using this same bag for years.

She snatched it from Pasha and loosened the drawstrings, dumped the contents on the bed. “It’s not here.”

“What are you looking for, miss?”

“A key.” Geneva pilfered through the stack of pound notes, a coin purse, a small pamphlet on The Importance of Educating the Masses , and another on Women in an Economic London . “It’s not here.”

Pasha pushed her aside. “You are too upset to see properly.” She opened the coin purse and turned out the contents. No key. She picked up each pamphlet and the rusted key hit the coverlet from the Women in an Economic London .

Geneva snatched it up. “Oh, thank you.” She hugged Pasha and was off again.

Within minutes, breathless, she stopped at the library door. She set an open palm, a fist, and her forehead against the cold oak and breathed deeply. The key cutting into her hand seemed to singe her skin. One more inhalation, then she entered.

Noah met her near the door. “What is it?”

She opened her palm. Raising her eyes, she met his where she detected a distinct sparkle.

“Let’s see what we uncover,” he said. He took her arm and led her to Isabelle.

“Try this,” Geneva said on a rush of air, handing her the key.

“But…”

Geneva closed her fingers over Isabelle’s. “Try it.”

“All right,” she said.

It took a few minutes with everyone hovering, but with some coaxing, the click, barely discernable, triggered and the locket sprung open.

Docia gasped. “Why, that’s a miniature of Papa… and… me.” Her words stumbled, her expression confused.

“Might I see?” Geneva pushed through the throng and took the locket from Docia. “That’s you?”

“Yes, but—”

Geneva worked one of the miniatures free and turned it over. “There’s something written here. It looks like a year.” She leaned in closer. “1824.” She glanced at Docia.

She turned absolutely chalky. “But that isn’t possible. I would have been seven. Mother perished in ’22.”

Geneva met her eyes. “I think it’s me.” She had a sudden need to sit, instead found herself swaying. Noah was at her side in an instant and guiding her to the settee.

Docia followed and lowered beside her. “Look behind the other one. The one of my father,” Docia said in a cracked voice.

“ To Emily, the love of my life .” Slowly, Isabelle raised her gaze, meeting Docia’s and hers.

Geneva glanced at Docia. “I—I think we may be sisters.”

Tears filled Docia’s eyes. “That must be why he kept going to London for all those years after Mama passed.”

Geneva clutched her hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You have a brother, and now, a sister.” Docia’s fingers twisted about and tightened around Geneva’s. “I’ve missed having a sister.” A distant gaze softened her focus. “Someday, I shall tell you all about Eleanor.” She blinked and turned back into her haughty, more familiar self. “And you are younger, which shall make it much easier to boss you about.”

Geneva smiled through a blurred vision. “I doubt that you shall find it easy. Now more than ever, you’ll have to treat my friend Abra with her due respect. Otherwise, I shall flatten you,” she choked out. She threw her arms around her newfound sister’s neck. So many questions flooded her. She withdrew, unable to meet Docia’s eyes. “Somehow, Papa—Wimbley—must have learned the truth of my… heritage. That must have been what he meant when he said…” She looked at Noah. “When he said what he said about Mama.”

“I think that was likely the case. There’s also the possibility he confronted Chaston… the former Chaston,” he said gently.

Docia gasped, her eyes going to him. “You believe he killed my father?”

“He confessed as much.”

“He was an awful man,” Geneva told her.

“I’m glad he’s dead,” Isabelle said with heartfelt emotion. “If I were already a doctor, I would not save him. I suppose I would have to, really.” She paused, her gaze going to Noah, then said, “Perhaps you should crack his skull open and study his brain, Noah.”

Sander cleared his throat. “Good gads, Isabelle. The ghastly things you come up with…”

“Well,” Verda interrupted. “I take it Miss Wimbley will be staying around awhile?”

“Of course she will be,” Noah informed her. “She’s already agreed to be my wife.”