Page 25 of An Earl’s Sacrifice (The Clandestine Sapphire Society #3)

M eredith stole up to the hidden room, vowing to be careful, yet requiring a distraction from her father barging into her home and upsetting the sense of balance that had taken her three years to effect.

She set her lamp on the floor near the windows where little light was able to break through the thick coat of soiled dirt.

She found the old journal on the floor near where Lucius had fallen.

There was an old chair with threadbare brocade of a color so faded it was impossible to determine its origin. She tested the legs before deeming it safe enough to hold her weight, then sat. Opening the book, she settled back and lost herself in the past.

Meredith’s skin prickled at that last statement. It sounded so… prophesying. She read on.

Her spine stiffened and she reread the passage. The wood legs on her chair creaked ominously. Tunnels below? The dungeons? Did Lucius know about this? She felt a little ill at the thought.

10 September 1758, “The air around Perlsea grows heavier with each passing day. I find myself pacing these halls more and more often. Our motto, once I thought so clever, now weighs upon my shoulders. The others remain steadfast, but I can’t help sensing cracks in our unity.

One of us has grown restless—too eager to capitalize on plans before the time is right. I fear action may be required.”

1 October 1758, “The deed has been enacted. The man who would see us undone remains a threat no longer.”

With a gasp, Meredith’s hand flew to her chest; she forced herself to read on. As if she could have stopped. She leaned forward and, again, the chair swayed so precariously, she moved to the floor and closer to the light.

“’Tis a necessary evil. I shiver to think the earth remembers all debts. I do not write his name, for that would be foolish indeed. Guilt lies heavier than stone. Alas, in memory he shall remain. Perlsea has seen many things, but the blood on my hands may be the darkest yet.”

Tears blurred her vision and she swiped them away, confused by her reaction. It made no sense. The man and the man he’d murdered were long dead. Still, she couldn’t stop reading.

12 November 1758, “I have instructed my son-in-law on the importance of the family’s role in these affairs.

He appears to understand the gravity of our mission, and that eases my mind.

Perlsea shall be his to protect, along with all it holds to his heirs.

I’ve no option but to trust him since I’ve but a single daughter, but my faith is fragile.

He is not of my blood. God knows I couldn’t very well share such horrors with my wife and child.

There are too many eyes watching now. If we are not mindful—well, the consequences would be dire. ”

9 January 1759, “There is talk of a fracture among us. Whispers have reached my ears, though I know not yet who dares to sow more doubt. I shall not let the situation unravel. A division would mean an end for us all—too much rests upon the success of our plans. I have already buried one secret. Alas, what is another?”

What the devil had been their plans? And, who were “they”?

“What the hell are you doing here? I thought I decreed this chamber off limits.”

Meredith glanced up, blinking at the picture her husband made, stirring her pulse into an irritating flutter.

His angular features appeared harsh in the oil lamp’s flickering flame.

The very little light coming through the dirty windows had waned considerably.

His arms were folded over his broad chest and his dark hair gave him a brooding quality.

“You are disturbing the ghosts,” he said.

She snapped the journal shut and dropped it to her side, scowling.

“Did you just tell me you decreed something? The woman you abandoned for three years to her own devices? The woman who is now turning this Keep into a livable place to reside? The woman to whom you’ve informed you wish an annulment?

” By the time Meredith had reached the end of her litany, her voice was a near shrill.

He held out his hand.

After a minute’s hesitation, she grasped it and let him assist her to her feet and quashed the stab of guilt at his sharp gasp.

“My pardons, Lady Pender. You are right, of course. I did you a grave injustice. You have my abject apologies.” He leaned in and touched her lips with his. They were softer than she thought they would be. His eyes closed and the tip of his tongue lined the seam of her lips.

The shocking sensation startled her and she gasped.

The sharp intake left her mouth gaping, allowing the gates open for pure bliss.

Without the slightest hesitation, he angled his head and slipped his tongue inside and gently lapped at the low tide of velvety warmth.

Such unguarded ardor from him sent a jolt through her chest.

He drew back.

She couldn’t seem to put her shock into words though her mouth still hung open.

The intensity of his eyes bore through her, and after a moment, he lifted her jaw with an index finger.

“I’m, uh, here to remind you of our dinner edict.

” His voice came out deep and husky as if from the center of the earth’s fiery core.

He framed her face with his hands. “I’m not about to sit through another meal without you.

And certainly not alone with only Rathbourne as company. ”

She blinked once, not completely comprehending until she blinked a second time. That one caught in crystallized clarity and reality reasserted itself. “Oh, blast. Dinner. Worse… Papa!” She spun on a heel and dashed from the chamber without the lamp or the journal.

*

With a wry grin, Lucius took a moment for the cold air in the chamber to cool his nether regions to half-mast. He leaned over, wincing, and picked up the oil lamp.

Then stopped, spotting the book she’d been reading.

On closer inspection, it appeared to be the journal she’d shown him before.

Tightening his abdomen against more pain, he managed to scoop it from the floor and open it, wondering what had captured her attention so completely she hadn’t heard him enter the room.

Alas, it had grown too dark to read in the low light. Neither did he have the time if he was to make the duke’s mandate. Oil lamp and journal both in hand, Lucius made his way out of the old library and carefully down the stairs.

An hour later, he entered the dining hall where a fire crackled in a hearth large enough to roast a spit pig. Long shadows danced across the floor from the flames.

Meredith stood near her father holding—gripping, her knuckles blanched white—a glass of sherry, her expression a blank mask. Quite practiced. Something worth remembering he told himself.

He strode to her and accepted his own glass from a tray Bartlett held out before leaning in and brushing her lips with his. She was so startled, her hand jerked and wine spilled over the edge of the glass on her hand.

Lucius was hard pressed to keep from laughing outright.

An astonishing sensation. When was the last time he’d felt like laughing?

If they’d been alone, he’d happily have licked every drop from her dainty fingertips dry.

He quickly produced a handkerchief and dabbed her hand.

“You must be careful, my dear. You don’t wish to ruin your lovely gown.

” And, lovely it was. Champagne silk trimmed in gold reflected the firelight with a soft shimmering sheen.

“It’s years out of date,” the duke remarked with a condescending sweep of his gaze over his daughter.

Meredith’s green eyes flashed then glittered like emerald shards.

“Sorry I’m late, darling,” he murmured, turning into her body. “I think your gown is quite lovely.”

She inclined her head but her plump lips remained compressed.

Lucius blocked the duke from seeing her reaction. He straightened and turned to the smug arse, sipping his wine.

“How nice you could join us,” Rathbourne said with a cold smile. “I see your wife managed to issue my invitation.”

Before Lucius could flatten his father-in-law, Verity’s portly figure appeared, and he announced dinner.

Lucius took Meredith’s hand and laid it on his arm. He could feel its warmth and its trembling on his arm through his frockcoat. He seated her at one end of the table then took his own seat at the far end, duke be damned. This was their home, not Rathbourne’s.

Silence stretched for a time while the first course of turtle soup was delivered. A silence that didn’t last long.

“It’s good to see you finally returning to your rightful place, Pender. I feared you’d forgotten your family’s obligations.”

Lucius paused, fork half raised toward his mouth, appalled yet unsurprised at Rathbourne’s insolence.

The words also seemed to contradict the duke’s own from that morning.

He turned his own cold smile on the blackguard.

“Your announcement at my father’s wake of Meredith’s delicate condition was quite the reminder.

” He lifted one shoulder. “But I’m here now. ”

The man did raise a point. What were those obligations his father had made on Lucius’s behalf? Something, he decided, that needed looking into immediately. He would write the solicitor—no!—instinct told him waiting that long would be a mistake.

Rathbourne’s fork clinked against his plate. “Indeed, indeed,” he said in that annoyingly blustering, obnoxious way of his. “The Pender estates require a firm hand. I’m sure Perlsea Keep has missed your leadership.”

Lucius bristled in Meredith’s stead. “On the contrary, Your Grace. My wife has handled the Keep’s affairs admirably.” He flashed her a quick smile, hoping she discerned his genuine sincerity. But her attention was focused on her food. Or, rather, pushing it about her plate.

The duke’s eyes flickered to his daughter then back to Lucius. “Of course she has,” he said with a touch of impatience. “She is of my blood after all. But the handling of an estate of this magnitude requires a man’s hand.”

“I disagree,” Lucius said mildly. “One of her first tasks upon arriving in Cornwall was to hire a competent steward.” He shot her a smile and surprised himself by not choking on his words.

The duke frowned. “He can’t be that competent,” he groused. “This place needs more servants.”

“That is due to the mine’s needs for able-bodied workers, Papa.” Meredith had finally spoken up, but her father was getting under her skin, based on the edge in her tone. “There were but four when I first arrived.”

And so went the excruciating dinner… for another four courses.