Page 8 of Not His Usual Style (Diamonds of London #10)

When she strained to hear the conversation, her breasts brushed the earl’s chest, and another host of tingles went down her spine.

Why was there any sort of reaction for him on her part?

He wasn’t free and even if he was, the likelihood of a man like him choosing a woman of her station was laughable.

Why can’t a woman choose the man she wants?

Shoving the errant and quite inappropriate thought away, she said, “I can’t hear anything. ”

“It sounds as if they’ve moved out of the library. Perhaps someone has distracted them.” One of his hands drifted to her hip, and she idly wondered what it would take for him to start exploring. Was that sort of distraction something he might have interest in?

Good heavens, Tori, enough. He’s not for you. Stop this nonsense.

In this, she needed to follow her own advice. Such a thing was farfetched, and she had more pressing thoughts to worry about. As her heartbeat thrummed through her veins in an accelerated rhythm, Tori dared to lay a hand on his chest. “What now?”

“I don’t know.” As he backed away and put a modicum of space between them, the earl blew out a breath. He narrowed his gaze. “Give me the necklace.” And then he held out a hand, fully expecting her to follow orders.

Thinking he’d definitely been in the military before, she wished to ask him about it, but now didn’t seem like the appropriate time. “And what then?”

“It will be my insurance that you won’t run away, because surely you’re not stupid enough to pin a theft on an earl.”

She narrowed her eyes. “As a matter of fact, I’m not stupid ever.” Could she trust him? “How do I know you won’t abscond with the necklace, especially after I’ve told you how much it’s probably worth.”

“Madam, are you mad?” He drew himself up to his full height. Even in the darkness, annoyance shot like daggers from the rich depths of his eyes. “I have no need for the necklace and neither do I care that it might be a piece of missing French history.”

“It must be lovely to have such security. I wouldn’t know, for my father has a penchant for gambling away much of the income he takes in from his jewelry business.”

“Yes, well, some of us have more self-control than others.” Anger shivered through his whispered tone.

“I spent five years fighting against Napoleon and his horrors. That time in my life was wasted, but at least I did my duty to England. I want nothing else to do with anything connected with France… except perhaps its brandy.”

That sounded all too authentic. “Very well, but I wouldn’t mind a pastry every now and again.

” Throwing her lot in with his was probably the best way out of this sudden mess.

Slowly, she drew the diamond necklace from her bodice and slipped it into his gloved hand.

“Do you promise not to reveal that I was the one who stole the necklace?”

“I promise, but I have to know why you care about this thing anyway?” The diamonds glittered in the dim illumination and looked like water in his hand.

“I suppose I don’t like it that a piece of history is tucked away in some lord’s study either from greed or the urge to own something so valuable.” She frowned as she shrugged. “It’s not right, and it needs to be returned to France.”

“You realize that these diamonds were probably one of the reasons that prompted the revolution? Marie Antoinette never failed to flaunt her wealth, and she had no love for the peasants beneath her who toiled and labored to keep her on that damned elevated platform.”

“No, it was Marie’s own fault. The diamonds had nothing to do with it.”

“God, when you think about it, nothing good has come out of France for a long while. The rulers are constantly causing havoc, giving in to greed and corrupted power, and weren’t above using the people to further their own causes.

” A growl escaped him. “If you want my honest opinion? Take the diamonds and sell them. Go travel with the coin you make. Or use these blood stones for something that will make a difference instead of handing them straight back to some wealthy wastrel who won’t care or doesn’t need them. ”

“Wouldn’t that make me just as horrid as those rulers in France you can’t stand?” It was an interesting peek into his mind, and she suddenly wished she had the time to converse with him further. His fiancée must be a fortunate lady. The conversations they must have together!

“I am not one to judge. Once this bit of drama is over, you can do whatever you want. I won’t care a whit.”

That was… disappointing. “What do we do now?”

“I’m going inside to see what is happening. Let five minutes elapse and then you come inside as well, tell your father you’re ill and would like to leave early.” He shrugged. “Perhaps one of the men in attendance will rise to the occasion and offer to drive you home.”

“That would be easier if not scandalous. No doubt my father won’t allow it.” Why wouldn’t Greystone offer? “Perhaps I should find a chair in the retiring room to pretend to collapse onto to lend the story some authenticity.”

He snorted. “Do so in the library. That way I can return upstairs, say I found you lying there when I went in for a brandy, and that I was to locate Baron…?”

“Irvington,” she helpfully supplied.

“Very well.” The earl nodded. He tucked the necklace into a pocket near the tails of his coat. “And while you are upstairs, glean whatever information you can about Lord Dawson and his plans. If I encounter him, I shall do the same.”

“One question.”

“What?”

“Why are you taking this risk? For me? I’m a stranger.”

That brought on another fierce scowl. “I don’t know.

” Then he shook his head. “Remember, five minutes, then your arse needs to be fainting on a sofa in the library. And I’ve changed my mind.

Don’t go upstairs. Don’t find your father.

Just lie on a sofa. I’ll take care of the rest.” The authority of an earl was in his voice and bearing.

And it sent tingles of interest twisting down her spine. Was this his way of trying to protect her? To minimize the potential fallout?

Then Greystone was gone, leaving her standing in the shadows with her ears pricked to listen in the event that guests had entered the library.

As a cool breeze flirted with her skirting, Tori counted to sixty five times then she quietly and cautiously crept into the room, being sure to pull the door closed behind her.

Since it didn’t appear anyone had entered since she and the earl had passed inside, she scurried over the floor.

Seconds later, she dramatically arranged herself on one of the leather sofas, resting her head on a decorative pillow as if she’d managed to collapse there when her head pounded far too much for her fragile, female form to withstand one second longer.

By the time she had truly become immersed in her role, the sound of footsteps just outside in the corridor reached her ears.

She closed her eyes and threw an arm over them to further seem as pathetic as she could.

Then a familiar hand was on her arm and the owner smelled like pipe smoke and peppermints.

“Papa?” Truly, this was far too easy, but she hadn’t expected he would come so soon.

“Yes, yes, it’s me. Are you ill? I was informed by Greystone that he’d come upon a woman doing poorly in the library and it sounded like you, so I immediately came down to find out what ailed you.”

Well, that had happened quickly. “My head pains me.” But she made her voice small and pathetic as she looked at him from what she hoped were tired eyes. “I didn’t wish to disturb you while you were socializing, which is why I wandered down here, and I wanted somewhere quiet.”

“Understandable.” He patted her hand. “Greystone said he came upon you by accident when he went for brandy, but why did you come here?”

“I, um, couldn’t find the retiring room.” Then she flicked her gaze to the door, where Greystone had entered, and cool relief slid down her spine. Perhaps he could take up the narrative, for she felt that dissembling wasn’t her forte.