Chapter 1 #5
She gave him an indulgent look. “Did I not include enough detail about the magazine I found? It’s of the type read by would-be gentlemen of fashion all around the country, full of the latest society gossip, reviews of London theatricals, and the most elegant new styles in suits and top hats.”
Lord Riven’s brown eyes narrowed. “Are you attempting to make a witticism about my taste in clothing?”
“Oh, I’m not thinking only of your attire.
” Margaret gestured at the two silver candelabras that did their best, along with a low fire, to illuminate the large, shadowy room.
“You haven’t even bought gaslamps for your home yet—you, of all people, who are in most desperate need of modern means to light the evenings! ”
His elongated canines were made visible by the flare of his upper lip. “Very well,” he muttered at last, “but only a simpering fool would race after fashion for century after century.”
“Oh, certainly.” Margaret had never cared much for frills or changing sleeve lengths. “Before our wedding ceremony, though, had you even left this house within the last century? Or spoken to more than a handful of people here?” How long had this sprawling manor house been shrouded in dustcovers?
“Enough!” He let out a long sigh, tipping his head back against the faded velvet upholstery of his chair.
With his abundant, tawny hair and nearly unlined skin, Lord Riven would look no more than thirty forever—but something about the haunted expression on his face and the weary slump of his strong shoulders made the weight of his true age suddenly tangible.
“I surrender, madam. You are, of course, correct. I was not the one who searched through those records, and I can imagine only one reason for anyone to do so: they were hunting for undeniable proof of the Rose of Normandy’s existence, in my keeping.
I’d assumed that your family must have been the ones to ferret out the secret in order to make their demand, but it makes far more sense for Shaw to have done so himself, emboldened by my Sleep and his keys to my house.
He couldn’t have accessed the Rose itself without my aid, but no one would have questioned his right to be here, looking through my papers in my service. ”
“Of course,” Margaret agreed. “I told you: my aunt and uncle are less interested in supernatural or historical records than anyone else I’ve met. All that matters to either of them is status and money.” Neither of which they’d ever managed to squeeze out of their orphaned niece...until now.
“No,” she continued, “I am quite certain that it was Shaw who approached them in the first place, and the Rose was never mentioned in their private negotiations. For them, it would have been more than enough victory to be granted my inheritance at long last for themselves, just as they’d always thought it should be.
” Her aunt’s lamentations over that fact had been a familiar lullaby across the years, especially once it had become clear that Margaret would only ‘waste’ those funds by pouring them into her education and independence rather than using them to buy a husband and raise her family in the eyes of the world.
Lord Riven shook his head slowly. “All that I can say in my own defense is that the founder of the firm for which Shaw works was a good friend of mine, long ago. I suppose I’ve allowed my memories of Edmund’s good work and utterly trustworthy character to influence how I view all of his successors.
..but of course, that was over two centuries past. What a fool I’ve been.
” His eyes fell shut, not quite quickly enough to shield that flash of pain.
“As you’ve just pointed out, I am, myself, a hopeless relic, no matter how loudly I’ve bristled and bluffed, this past week, in a vain attempt to hold my ground through chaos.
Perhaps it will be just as well to give up that battle.
..and this house and all its memories at long last.”
“Hmm.” Seeing that powerful figure slumped before her probably should have felt like victory, and yet, somehow it didn’t.
Margaret’s brows drew together as she puzzled through her own discomfort.
When had she ever not enjoyed winning an argument?
It was inexplicable, yet she couldn’t ignore the instinctive urge to relieve that disconcerting feeling.
“If you recall, you weren’t the only one who was fooled,” she finally offered. “My family tricked me, too.”
His shoulders rose and fell in a heavy shrug. “You were kept sleepless, hungry, and confused.”
“And you were woken early from your Sleep with dire warnings and urgent deadlines flung at you. No doubt you experienced some measure of confusion, as well.”
“No doubt.” Her husband’s voice was dry. When his eyes reopened, they were once more alert and wary. “Are you softening me in preparation for a new debate? I told you: I’ve already given in. You may leave tonight if you so choose. I regret the selfishness of my attempts to keep you with me.”
“Good,” she said tartly, “because they were not only selfish but also unnecessary. As you just reminded me, I was in a state of exhaustion and confusion when I first arrived. By yesterday morning, I’d had enough sleep and time to think through the facts of the matter.
I have no intention of running away now, whether or not I choose to take a brisk walk or two for pleasure in the meantime.
” More unlikely things had happened, although not often, in her experience.
“Moreover...” She gave him a minatory glare.
“Giving up your home and income may be a noble sacrifice that you are prepared to make, but as your wife—having had my own funds stolen—I shall certainly not support you in that endeavor. As it happens, I have very little interest in sleeping in gutters.”
“Indeed.” One tawny eyebrow rose in open skepticism. “So, you’re saying that you’ve changed your mind about our marriage and now wish to remain wed forevermore?”
“Oh, really.” Margaret snorted as she raked her gaze over his sprawling, muscular figure, which had clearly been designed for dancing or warfare, not quiet scholarship.
“I can’t imagine either of us could ever wish for that!
Fortunately, I have a far better plan for our futures.
” As she leaned forward, her pages of notes rustled in her right hand, ready and waiting to be transformed into action.
“Now that we can finally stop fencing over details, I’m ready to work together and take back everything that’s been stolen from both of us. ”
With her snarling new study partner finally tamed, Margaret dove directly into the meat of the matter.
“What it all comes down to,” she said, “is the question of your man-of-business’s motivation. Is he a mere tool or a monster himself?”
Lord Riven’s fingers tapped against the arm of his wingchair. “I suppose those are the two most likely reasons to have stolen the Rose...either to sell it or to use it for his own purposes.”
“Exactly.” Only a creature of true depravity could think to unleash more horrors across the world after what had happened the last time the Rose was used in battle.
Unfortunately, with sabers currently rattling all across the European continent and jingoism running high, Margaret could imagine far too many potential royal buyers for such a purpose.
Lord Riven sighed. “I wish I could give you an answer to that question.
Unfortunately, as I said before, I saw Shaw in our handful of meetings across the years through the lens of his finer forebears at the firm.
I know he had a good college education—his predecessor mentioned how high his marks had been—but I know almost nothing more beyond that fact.
“Whenever I summoned him, he smiled, he nodded, he never once argued...and he acted terribly, appallingly afraid when he woke me this week.” Grimacing, Lord Riven pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I did remind him I haven’t fed from the vein in centuries, but.
..well. Either he did not believe me or he was playing upon my conscience to soften me for his deception. ”
Margaret worried at the sheaf of papers with her thumb as she thought it through. “Was he that fidgety man who stood behind you at the wedding, with the elaborate moustache?”
“Rather like a walrus, yes. He fiddles with it when he’s nervous.”
“I noticed.” It had been a surprisingly distracting note during the surreality of her midnight wedding.
“And I seem to recall...” Margaret’s eyes narrowed with the effort of searching through the details in her memory of that night.
“As you were escorting me into your carriage, he stepped into another one—an expensive-looking conveyance, I thought. There was no family seal on the side, so I doubt it was one of yours. How much do you pay Shaw, exactly?”
Lord Riven shrugged. “My general practice is to write to my banker every five or ten years and ask what the going rate is for good service. Then I pay a bit above that.”
“Certainly not enough to afford that carriage, then.” Margaret gave a sharp nod.
“In that case, I believe we may settle upon ‘tool’ as the most likely description for his function. I expect he was approached by someone who’d come across a rumor of the gem’s location”—her jaw clenched with irritation; if anyone should have heard that sort of rumor, it was her!
—“and they paid him an exorbitant sum to ferret out the truth and find a way to get hold of it for them.”
“God!” Deep lines furrowed her husband’s skin as he closed his eyes. “After all these centuries of guardianship—everything I had to give up along the way—to be tricked out of the Rose so easily in the end...!”
Margaret eyed him curiously. “What did you give up, exactly? I’ve read through all of the original records, but they’re rather scattered when it comes to details of the final handover.”