Page 49

With obvious reluctance, Rose put down the hairbrush. “As you wish, my lady.” She gave Meredith a brief curtsy, then turned and began to pick up the wet towels that had been left on the floor, the evening gown Meredith had worn the previous night, and several gowns that needed mending.

When Meredith saw the servant reaching for a second pile of garments, she spoke again. “Rose?”

The maid sighed audibly, gave a curt nod to indicate she understood, and then disappeared. Once she was alone with her husband, Meredith turned back to her mirror and attempted to finish arranging her hair.

Trevor watched her every move from a comfortable chair, his eyes reflecting such alert interest she blushed. Her hands were a bit clumsy as she groped for the pins, but they managed to do a respectable job of twisting and securing her blond tresses.

“I believe I prefer your hair unbound, falling over your shoulders and cascading down your back,” he said lightly.

“Now you tell me.” Meredith swiveled around to face him and smiled.

He returned her smile, and she felt that now familiar sensation of sexual desire begin to tingle along her nerve endings.

“You said you will stay at home for the remainder of the day, but what of this evening?”

“I have accepted an invitation from Mrs. Morten,” Meredith replied. “She is hosting a late supper and then a trip to Vauxhall Gardens for dancing and fireworks to support her favorite charity.”

Trevor grimaced. “How many are in the party?”

“I am not certain.” Meredith frowned. “I imagine fifty or so, including both of my brothers. Miss Elizabeth Sainthill has promised to be there, so naturally Jason will want to attend.”

“The gardens are a very public place. The gravel paths are numerous and secluded,” Trevor commented. “They can be especially dangerous at night if one encounters an unsavory character. Frankly, I am not comfortable with the notion of you going there.”

“Because of what happened last night?” she asked quietly.

They had not spoken again of the incident at the theater until this moment, but Meredith could tell by the flash of awareness in Trevor’s eyes that it was still very much on his mind.

The marquess grimaced. “I do not wish to unduly alarm you, but I believe it was more than a mere accident.” He leaned back in the chair and paused, seeming to choose his next words most carefully.

“I think someone deliberately took advantage of the mayhem at the theater with the intent of doing you grievous harm. We were most fortunate I was close enough to prevent it. My greatest fear is that we shall not be as lucky the next time.”

It was a chilling, sobering thought. “What do you propose I do?”

“For the time being, I urge you to accept only a very limited number of invitations. But more importantly, you must not leave the house without me by your side.”

His solution surprised her. In one way it was reasonable, in another not so reasonable.

She studied Trevor’s face. She could see the tension lining his brow as he awaited her response.

He was her husband. By law he could command that she do any number of things, but they both knew she was not a woman who would ever blindly follow any man’s orders.

For this plan to work as Trevor intended, she must cooperate. Meredith weighed her decision carefully, considering all the positive and negative aspects, but in the end it was the hint of vulnerability in her husband’s eyes that tipped the scales.

Folding her hands in her lap, Meredith fixed him with an earnest look.

“I am not certain I agree with your theory. There is no reason for anyone to want to harm me, and yet there have been several unexplained incidents of late that have disturbed and even frightened me. I respect your opinion, Trevor, so I will comply with your wishes, but I refuse to become a prisoner in my own home.”

“Of course.” The marquess let out a long breath. He seemed very relieved by her answer. “I would be honored to accompany you to any social event you feel you absolutely must attend.”

She tilted her head, her eyes steady on him. “I would like to go to the masquerade ball at Lord Linny’s next week. It promises to be the crush of the Season, and I have already commissioned a costume for it.”

He smiled. “Something daring and provocative, no doubt.”

“I am going as Diana.”

“The Roman goddess of the hunt?” His eyes traveled over her form with great interest. “A most inspired choice, given your height and coloring. And incomparable beauty.”

Meredith lowered her chin modestly at the compliment. “It was actually the duke’s idea. With my father’s great passion for all things concerning ancient Greece and Rome, it seemed an amusing notion.”

“I know you will look enchanting.”

Pleasure filtered through her. All of her adult life she had been showered with florid, expressive, and occasionally outrageous compliments on her looks.

Yet only Trevor’s regard had the power to move her.

“I only hope I can wear my Roman gown. The blue silk fabric is fashioned to be held over one shoulder with a gold brooch, leaving the other bare. It will expose a great deal of my neck and throat.”

Trevor’s eyes darkened. “Are you badly bruised?”

Meredith’s hand lifted unconsciously to her throat. “These type of bruises always look worse the following day, when they turn all sorts of nasty colors. There is very little pain, so I know they cannot be too serious.”

“I will send for a physician at once,” Trevor decided, rising to his feet. “He can be here within the hour.”

“No, please. There is no need,” Meredith protested. “I had Rose bring me a salve that I used when I finished my bath. After anointing the bruises, I felt much better.”

“I am concerned about your health.”

“All that is required for my complete recovery is a little rest and time. A physician cannot make the marks fade any faster. Truth be told, he might prescribe a treatment that will make it worse.”

Trevor hesitated, and she pressed home her final point. “If the bruises are still evident next week, I will forgo the ball and consent to be examined by a physician. Does that satisfy you?”

The marquess seemed to realize that was the best he was going to get. “I suppose it must. Yet after hearing its description, I confess I shall be very disappointed if I do not see you wearing your costume.”

Meredith smiled suggestively. “I will gladly give you a private showing, my lord. Complete with the crown of laurel upon my head and a pair of sandals on my feet, which are undisputedly the most comfortable things I have ever worn. There is even a small split on one side at the bottom of the dress to allow a glimpse of them.”

His expression turned fierce. “Only a glimpse, I trust?”

“Yes, but if I move a certain way, the gown affords a peek at my ankles.”

“Hmmm, ankles, too? I shall have to keep a very close eye on you, madame.” His eyes took on a teasing manner. “Pity there won’t be time for me to have a matching toga made. That would be sure to cause a sensation.”

“For the right price, I am certain we can find an industrious tailor willing to try.”

Trevor blanched noticeably. “Meredith, please, I was joking about the toga.”

She smiled impishly. “I know. But you must promise to make some concession to the occasion.”

“I shall wear a black domino with my formal evening attire and follow you about the ballroom like a willing, protective slave.”

“What a delicious notion.”

“I had an inkling you might enjoy the idea,” he said in a wry tone.

A provocative taunt about slaves knowing their proper place rose to Meredith’s lips, but after noting the set of Trevor’s jaw, she wisely kept it to herself.

There were duties to perform, chores that must be completed, responsibilities of his position that demanded his attention, but the lure of his treasure was like a siren’s song, enticing and impossible to resist. Ever alert to the possibility, he slipped away the moment the opportunity presented itself, stealing up to his room for an irresistible moment of privacy.

His breathing grew rapid and shallow as he carefully extracted his prize from the most clever hiding place, a drawer that boasted a false bottom.

Late last night he had wrapped the prize neatly in a clean white linen handkerchief to preserve its essence, and now his fingers trembled as he unwound that cloth.

For several minutes, he kept it clutched within the closed fist of his hand. Then he slowly opened his fingers, like a flower opening its petals, and revealed the treasure. Sparkling, glittering, winking up at him, the diamond that lay in the center of his palm had the power to mesmerize him.

He stared at it openmouthed fascination, trembling with excitement. It was a good size, square cut, perfectly shaped. He turned his hand and watched with glee as the many facets of those clean edges reflected the light that crept through the small window of his quarters with brilliant fire.

He knew the stone had significant monetary value, but that was not what made it so unique, so special, so desperately important.

This lovely jewel had once hung around her neck, close to her warm, delicate flesh.

It had rested upon the pulse at her throat, had felt the beat of life as it coursed through her body.

And now the diamond belonged to him.

It had been difficult to slip out of the house last night, but he had been determined to get away, so he was successful. He had gone to the theater knowing she would be in attendance with the duke, as always, by her side.

He had purposely selected a seat in that pit the afforded him a perfect, unobstructed view of the duke’s private box. Yet this clever plan teetered on the brink of disaster when the marquess arrived. The last person he’d ever expected to see was her husband.

For an instant he thought she might have altered her plans, but then she entered the box, a look of surprise on her lovely face.

He could almost forgive her, for it seemed she had no knowledge the marquess would be at the theater.

But as the performance began, they took seats side by side, far too close for his liking.

His eyes never glanced at the stage. They remained trained on her, watching her every move. His excitement climbed when the candles were lit to signal the start of intermission, knowing he might have a chance to brush against her in the crowd.

But to his great consternation, she never left the box! Even worse, she moved herself to a provocative position behind the marquess and began touching her husband’s shoulders, rubbing them suggestively, as if they were alone. He had been incensed by this wanton behavior.

It reminded him of the improper kiss she had shared with the marquess at the racecourse. That had also angered him greatly. He had destroyed her parasol that afternoon, shredding it in frustration as a warning that she was stepping beyond what he would allow.

Clearly another message was needed. The sudden, uncontrolled riot had been the opportunity of a lifetime.

He had spied her just as the throng threatened to swallow her within its depths.

Throwing himself into the fray, he was able to move forward.

With supreme effort and tremendous force of will, he somehow managed to make his way to her side.

Once positioned behind her, his hands slipped around her throat, caressing that long white neck, anticipating the moment of utter joy and completion that would come when he applied the pressure that would end her life.

However, the pulsing excitement that sang through his blood ruined his concentration.

He was shoved and pushed by the unruly mob and could not retain his balance.

She fell to her knees when he unintentionally knocked into her.

His hands reached down to hold onto his prize, but his fingers became tangled in the links of her necklace.

She had screamed and struggled, trying to hold herself upright.

Her strength was exceptional for a woman, her determination even more so.

Sweat broke out on his upper lip as he remembered her fighting valiantly to survive.

He knew in that instant he could not kill her then, for there would be no time to savor the event, to enjoy each moment of her violent death.

Lady Meredith, it appeared, was truly the perfect victim. He would be foolish to rush such a rare find. So he pulled back just as the marquess burst through the crowd and lifted her to safety. But he had taken a memento to remind him of the glorious moment—a diamond from her necklace.

A sharp knock at the door sent him cowering into a corner. “You are wanted below stairs. Better hurry.”

“I shall be along in a moment.” He pursed his lips into a thin line, loath to leave the privacy of his chamber and the visions of his fantasy. But he knew he must.

In a small show of defiance, he lifted the diamond to the light and examined it one last time.

Then, carefully, reverently, he wrapped it back in the linen handkerchief and placed it in his coat pocket.

Though he had devised the perfect hiding place, he decided that it was too valuable to leave in his room.

If someone found it, he would be in grave trouble, for he could not explain how it came to be in his possession.

Yet more importantly, he needed to keep it close to his person, needed to feel the hard edges of the stone against his flesh. It was a stark reminder that Lady Meredith now belonged to him.

And soon she would know it, too.