Page 1 of One Jewel-tide Scandal (Singular Sensation #10.5)
Somewhere between Derbyshire and Bedfordshire
England
Sir Alexandar Tattingham tried to focus his concentration on the book he’d been reading for the last couple of hours, but the task was nearly impossible.
He’d been in the traveling coach for more hours than he cared to admit due to the dodgy weather that had been vacillating between and snow, which made the roads muddy and rutted, but finally three hours ago, the precipitation was completely snow, and quite heavy.
And that meant travel was becoming more and more hazardous with each passing quarter hour.
The warm brick at his feet had long ago given up any sort of warmth, and wrapping his greatcoat and muffler tighter about his person couldn’t chase away the chill. Why the devil was he traveling now?
Because it was tradition. Because it was expected. Because he was a fool.
He glanced at the opposite bench where his beagle Charlemagne lay curled in a tight ball on the old, tattered blanket that belonged to him.
When the dog cocked an eyebrow and cracked open one eye to stare back, Alex chuckled.
“Well, my friend, I hope this miserable trip will be worth it at the end.”
Unfortunately, at the end of said trip was his family in Derbyshire where the whole extended connection was gathering for the Christmastide holidays.
Bah, Christmastide!
It was no secret to his family that he wasn’t fond of the holiday season, but they issued an invitation to him every year regardless.
And he, being a dutiful son—oldest of five siblings—accepted the invitation.
He made his way to the large manor in Derbyshire, and with everyone in the family staying there through Twelfth Night, the structure was usually filled to the rafters.
No one was given a room to themselves, and there was always so much noise!
Yells, crying, laughter, conversation, debates, the din from all would fill the air and provided a cacophony of assault on the ears, for most of his siblings were married and had already made inroads into reproducing as if the Earth would suddenly become devoid of people if they didn’t.
Not only did he not care for that, but he didn’t particularly enjoy the snow.
It was far too cold and messy for his liking.
Secondly, it prohibited travel and generally put people in bad humors.
With a glance out the window, he glowered at the snow that continued to come down so heavily he wondered how the driver could even see the road.
With a shake of his head, he frowned and continued to view the rapidly whitening outside world.
If truth be told, he wasn’t of a mind to be with his family.
He was the only unmarried or unmatched sibling, and since he was the oldest child of five—with two sisters and two brothers—he didn’t want the inevitable questions regarding when he would marry, why wasn’t he courting anyone, when would he settle down?
Frankly, he didn’t need their help in finding a match, for if he willed it, he was quite popular with the ladies.
Yet that was exactly the problem. If he wished it, he would never hurt for company in the petticoat line, and while he didn’t mind squiring various beautiful women about Town, none of them had particularly managed to connect with him in all the ways that mattered.
Ordinarily, he wouldn’t mind, for some of them had been naughty widows that had happily warmed his bed, but to his way of thinking, as a man of five and thirty, he wanted a woman in his life that had more in common with him than pleasures between the sheets.
A long-suffering sigh escaped him. Perhaps he was simply too picky and had always managed to find fault with those ladies.
They were always “too much” of something or “not enough” of something else, but he couldn’t explain it, not even to himself.
He always maintained that when he met the woman he would marry, he would simply know she was the right one.
At times, when men served in the military, they developed that sixth sense, almost, and applied it to every aspect of his life.
He huffed. That was another thing he had failed to come up to the mark about.
Though his father had bought him a commission in a cavalry unit, he’d done nothing heroic over and above the call of duty, he’d not been singled out as a man among men, he hadn’t been grievously injured on the fields of battle and hadn’t any scars to talk about, and he certainly hadn’t done anything to land his name in the papers.
All in all, he’d been remarkably average.
And he feared that was exactly how he was in every other aspect of his life.
Giving up the pretense of reading, Alex snapped his book shut and then stuffed the volume into the valise on the bench beside him.
The afternoon was already dreary and full of snow and soon the night would be upon them, which meant if they didn’t reach a posting inn soon, he, the driver, and the beagle might be spending a cold night bedded down in someone’s barn.
“What are the odds we’ll get through this journey intact, Charlie?” he asked of his dog.
Of course, the beagle didn’t answer. He merely snuffled and then buried his nose into his blanket.
“Right. I wish I could have a lie in and just forget about life like you.” But travelling caused far too much anxiety so that he couldn’t relax and let the world go by. And that meant he was alone with his thoughts.
Another reason why he didn’t want to be with his family for the holiday season was the fact he merely wanted peace, and that wasn’t something he could find with that bunch.
This year had been particularly difficult on a personal front, which was difficult to explain to someone who hadn’t the first clue about his day-to-day living.
Recently in the past year, he had been invited to become a member of the Rogue’s Arcade club, which had taken him by surprise because there were two requirements to join—must have been in the military and must have been a former jewel thief or a current one.
Of course he’d fought in the war, but not many people—including his family—knew he’d stolen a diamond brooch at one time.
That central stone had been as big as a pigeon egg, and he’d nabbed it—accidentally—from a French nob who’d been at the same rout that Alex had attended during his military days.
The man had been excessively drunk to the point where he could hardly stand on his own feet.
Well, the French peer had crashed into him on the stairs, resulting in them both taking a tumble to the ground level.
After the tangle of limbs was unsnarled and the man had gone off the cast up his accounts into the shrubberies outside, Alex had discovered the brooch, which had a faulty clasp, hanging onto an embroidered thread of his uniform jacket.
When he’d attempted to track the Frenchman down to return the piece, he was nowhere to be found.
After an exhaustive search, he still didn’t turn up, so Alex had pocketed the brooch.
The next week, there had been a notice in the papers that a master criminal had apparently stolen a large diamond brooch called Aphrodite’s Tear, which was the size of a pigeon egg with rubies on the clasp.
The provenance of the piece dated back to the court of King Louis XIV, and was quite valuable, and that whoever had taken it must have been quite clever.
It was the only thing of merit Alex had ever done, and even that had been by accident.
He certainly didn’t want to come forward and try to tell the tale of how it had belonged to some unknown Frenchman at a party, so he said nothing.
Let the world think what it would; that piece remained hidden away, usually in his safe hidden in his rooms at the Albany, but whenever he traveled, he brought it with him.
Currently, it was tucked into the lining of his valise.
Once more, he glanced outside the coach at the driving snow. The wind had picked up, which blew the white flakes against the side of the vehicle and made the interior even more chilly. With a shiver, he hunched into his greatcoat and sighed.
Regardless of how he’d come by the bauble—and he hadn’t told anyone that he had it—in January of this year, a letter had arrived at his rooms from the Duke of Edenthorpe inviting him to become a member of the Rogue’s Arcade for the sheer reason of him having that diamond in his possession.
Apparently, it was an impressive feat, and the founder of the club wanted him to be a part of the organization.
To which Alex had agreed with alacrity. Finally, there was a place for him where he might feel as if he belonged…
a second family, and that was exactly what those men had become.
Never had he found such a more congenial group of fellows that were good, honest people.
Their stories inspired him to be a better man, and he didn’t mind helping out when they needed it.
They had accepted him for himself, and it humbled him.
Ever since then—he’d joined the Rogue’s Arcade when there had been some concerning accusations and peril regarding the Earl of Baselford who had lost his memory—there had been increasingly violent threats against various members of that club as well as their families, made by an evil-minded countess with revenge and power on her mind.
Never before had he been more adamant about defending a family than he was with that group of people. And he knew they felt the same about him.