Deverell's Obsession: A Risqué Regency Romance (10 page)

“Er…”

“I think I would enjoy your body and what it could do for mine.” She shifted her head in a little decisive nod. “I like kissing you. I like how kissing you made me feel. And because I trust you, I am telling you these things. Telling you that I want you in the same way you want me. I have to tell you because I can’t show you physical evidence.” She gestured to the blanket. “You have the edge on me in that regard.”

“It’s not an edge I’m enjoying very much.”

She laughed. “I should say I’m sorry. But since we’re being honest tonight, I’m not in the least sorry. I’m glad I arouse you, Dev. I’m glad you arouse me. Because in this moment, I know we’re alive, and we’re together and it is a time of pleasure. There have been so few of late.” She paused for a long breath.  “Who knows how long these moments will last?”

Dev understood. He moved back to the chair, resisting the urge to groan as his cock reminded him of unfinished business. He told it to shut up and go back to sleep.

“Léonie, if I have my way, there will be many more such moments. But you’re right. We do not know what tomorrow will bring.” He settled himself. “Now try and rest. I will be here next to you until I hear the servants stirring, so your maid will be the first person you see in the morning.”

“And you’ll be the last person I see tonight.”

“Yes, my dear. I will.”

He placed his hand on the quilt and let her lay hers across his palm. Once again he was struck by the rightness of it. Even as her breathing calmed and he knew she’d fallen asleep, she kept her hand in his as if she sensed it as well.

His fingers curled around hers, and they were still thus joined when the first rays of light crept above the horizon and he eased himself from the chair.

The servants would be about shortly and he didn’t care to be caught in Léonie’s room. There would be time enough for that.

During those long hours watching over his obsession, Dev had come to realize the inevitability of the situation.

She was, indubitably,
his
.

Chapter Eleven

Léonie walked into the salon for breakfast the next morning with a lighter heart and an eagerness to see Dev again.

She was somewhat disappointed to find only Aunt Bertie tucking in to crumpets, bacon, eggs and tea.

“Good morning darling.” Bertie waved her cup. “Do you feel like a little breakfast this morning? I must say you look well, given your collapse last night…”

“I’m quite well, thank you, Aunt Bertie. I think it was just the surprise of it all. And yes, I do have an appetite. Those crumpets look delicious.”

“Try the jam. It’s homemade from raspberries picked last week. Can’t get much fresher than that.”

Léonie nodded and selected her meal from the dishes arranged on the sideboard. Then she sat next to Aunt Bertie and allowed a footman to pour tea. “This is lovely.” She smiled and sipped.

Aunt Bertie blinked at her over her teacup and raised an eyebrow. “You must have slept well.”

“Oh I did. Believe me.” She attacked a crumpet.

“Good day ladies.” Dev strolled in with a nonchalant air.

Léonie’s heart fluttered, but she held her emotions in check, bestowing nothing more than a warm smile upon him, and letting the older woman answer for them both.

“Well, what’s afoot for today, children?” Bertie finished the last of her eggs and touched her napkin to her lips.

Dev glanced at Léonie. “Today, I’m taking Léonie to visit Mary and Eileen. They have been busy on more gowns and it is time we collected them. She’ll be tired of the ones she has before many more days pass, I’m sure.”

Léonie grinned. “I won’t refuse more clothing, but seeing Mary and Eileen will be delightful. Thank you for thinking of it.”

“Not at all.” Dev accepted tea, but waved away the food.

“Any new information on Léonie’s father, or poor Lord Elwyn?” Bertie inquired.

Dev shook his head. “Nothing yet. But I’m hoping that some of our messages and requests for information may bear fruit very soon.”

The words had scarcely left his mouth when they all heard a solid knocking on the front door.

“Did you ever consider work as a clairvoyant?” Léonie lifted an eyebrow.

“No. I couldn’t see myself doing that.” Dev quipped back.

She laughed, but remained silent as the butler opened the door wide. “Mr. Deverell, there’s a Mr. McPherson asking to see you.”

“Ah.” Dev nodded. “Would you ask if he’d mind joining us? Ladies? If that’s acceptable?”

“Of course,” Aunt Bertie’s nod mirrored Léonie’s.

A tall man strode into the room, then paused, looking quite nonplussed at finding everyone still at breakfast.

“Mr. Deverell, forgive me… I-I…”

“Not at all, Mr. McPherson. Please, have a seat.” Dev stood and shook the man’s hand. “Crumpet?”

“Er…”

To her surprise, he blushed. But given the red glints in his hair, Léonie wasn’t surprised. People of that coloration were given to flushing routinely. She’d met several redheads in Vienna and it seemed to be a common fault.

“Never mind. Perhaps just a cup of tea.”

Dev seated him and made sure whatever he needed was at hand.

“Ladies, Mr. McPherson has just returned from visiting the site of Lord Elwyn’s demise in an official capacity. He represents the law as a Bow Street Runner, is that not so?”

“Aye, that’s so.”

The Scottish burr crept into his voice, thus explaining the red hair. Léonie observed him as he relaxed a little under Dev’s encouraging look.

“Well, before we go further, I should make you known to my Aunt, Lady Bertrande Deverell, and our guest, Miss Léonie Petrova Girard. They are both aware of the situation and, along with myself, eagerly await your news.”

“I wish it were better news, ladies. Sir.” McPherson nodded at them. “I was permitted entry into the site of the crime. A small country home in Whittingford, not too far from London. He and his elderly housekeeper resided there, and the rest of the staff were locals. There was some question as to whether it belonged to him or if he was renting it, and it was unfortunate that the servants had left. Just about as soon as they could, from what I learned.”

“Can’t blame ‘em,” said Aunt Bertie thoughtfully. “Something like that and they realize they’re not paid anywhere near enough to deal with the aftermath.”

“You have an excellent point, Ma’am.” McPherson saluted her with his cup.

Léonie noticed the quick smile. A flash of lightning, no more, but goodness. He was
very
attractive when his features relaxed.

“So there were no clues as to the culprit?” Dev sounded a little disappointed.

“Not as yet.” McPherson met his gaze. “But there were several things worth noting. Firstly, Lord Elwyn had a visitor late at the end of last week. One villager said that a man with a foreign accent had arrived late at night, but nobody had seen hide nor hair of him since then.”

“An accent?” Léonie leaned forward. “Do you know what kind, sir?”

“Unfortunately no, Miss Girard. And to be honest, I think had that particular villager met my mother, he’d say she had a foreign accent too.”

The smile flashed again, charming Léonie. She shrugged. “Oh well.”

“The other thing noted by the local authorizes was that the entire house had been ransacked. And this I saw for myself. Not a mattress remained undisturbed, or painting on the wall. Drawers had been pulled out and emptied…it was as if a terrible storm had torn through the place. It seems his housekeeper had recently returned from a trip, and even her empty portmanteau was ripped apart.”

“Someone was looking for something,” said Dev, frowning.

“Definitely.” McPherson nodded at the table in general. “And another interesting point—there were quite a few valuables left behind in the mess. Jewelry, some silverware and several good paintings. All scattered around willy-nilly.”

Léonie frowned. “So this was not a random burglary. Robbers didn’t kill Lord Elwyn. It was a deliberate search for a particular item?”

“I canna say for sure.” McPherson’s lips firmed into an annoyed line. “Which angers me. I dinna like puzzles where there’s a death involved. It offends me. But we can say that he was killed for either being in the way of a search for something, or for not revealing where that something was.”

“Oh dear. Poor man.” Aunt Bertrande fanned herself. “What a terrible thing.”

“Indeed, Ma’am. You’re right there. But I have found that Fate is a fickle bi-…er...goddess.” His cheeks flushed again.

This time, Léonie allowed herself a chuckle. “Yes, Mr. McPherson. Fate is a fickle bitch indeed. Pray go on.”

McPherson glanced at Dev, who shrugged. The man-to-man moment passed.

“Well, as I was leaving, a local lad came up to me and asked if I was going to find the man who did it. I told him I’d do my best, and then he tugged me aside and gave me this.”

He reached into his pocket and extracted a small package, badly wrapped in torn paper.

“What is that?” Dev stared at it.

“The lad said that he was supposed to have brought it up to Lord Elwyn a day or so before, but he’d forgotten until now. And asked if I could give it to the right person.”

“Good lord.” Aunt Bertie’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t think…”

“That this might be what the killer was looking for? Possibly. Another thing I don’t know. But I did see a Paris stamp on a bit of the wrapping. Now given that Miss Girard has lately come from Paris and has a tenuous connection with Elwyn…well, I put two and two together.”

Léonie’s skin chilled as she made similar connections.

“And you came up with four.” Dev looked at the square package on the table in front of them all.

“May I open it?” McPherson looked directly at her, his green eyes intense with his emotions.

“I think you’d better. And quickly please, Mr. McPherson.”

*~~*~~*

Dev found himself holding his breath with the rest of them as McPherson’s steady fingers peeled back the torn paper. There was indeed a stamp on a part of it with the Parisian markings, but whether it was a frank from a French person of wealth, or a government seal, he simply couldn’t tell. The paper was too dirty and crumpled.

Beneath there was yet another layer of paper, tissue this time, secured with a fine length of blue ribbon.

And beneath that, a silk bag concealed the square contents.

“My God,” muttered Bertie. “A person could grow old before this thing sees the light of day.”

“Patience, Ma’am,” said McPherson calmly. “Every layer has its secrets and must be handled with care.”

Finally, he removed the silk bag from the pieces of wrapping paper and lifted it, loosening the tie and reaching inside.

He pulled out a small, shining and exquisite wooden box.

Even Dev found himself gasping.

The wood was inlaid with all kinds of shapes and pieces, a dazzling display of miniature craftsmanship.

“Och, a sweetheart indeed,” murmured McPherson, turning it in the light. “Mother-of-pearl, I’d guess, along with a variety of woods I canna name. And the blue here…lapis lazuli perhaps. Probably from North Africa, Egypt maybe. Or Morocco, because I’ve seen chess sets in the same style from that part of the world. But this one? All those tiny pieces put together like this and it’s a jewel all by itself, no matter what it holds.”

“There’s something inside?” Léonie leaned forward. “It’s so small…”

“Haven’t you heard? Good things come in small packages, Miss Girard.” McPherson grinned at her. “Mayhap we have a good thing here. I hope so.”

“Me too,” she nodded. “But how does it open?”

For the next few minutes, there was silence as first McPherson and then Dev attempted to find the way in to the box. Dev’s frustration was obvious as he pushed, shook, turned it over many times, held it to the light and ran his fingers across the surface to no avail.

“Damnation.” He swore with irritation. “I really hate these things.”

“Dev, may I try?” Léonie held out her hand. “Sometimes an extra pair of eyes helps?”

“Of course. But I doubt the thing opens. There’s simply no mechanism anywhere that will…”

He broke off as Léonie smiled at him and laid the box back down on the table in front of him. A tiny piece of wood had swung upward revealing an even tinier hole.

“What the hell…”

Both men nearly bumped heads trying to see what she had revealed.

“How did you do that?” Forgetting the niceties, McPherson darted a sharp glance at her.

“My Papa always enjoyed a good puzzle.” She smiled serenely across the table at Dev. “He believed it was a good way to expand a child’s mind. And there were a lot of these little things at the Russian Court.” She looked back at it. “I didn’t realize then, of course, that more than sweetmeats could be enclosed.”

Dev pursed his lips. “I can’t begin to imagine.”

“I can,” added Bertie. “Jewels. Promises, whispers and secrets.”

“Exactly.” Léonie nodded. “But even though the mechanism is revealed, I’m still not sure how to open this one. It seems to need some kind of an odd key…” She touched the spot with her finger, watching as the two men once again bent to examine it.

“Wait. We need a magnifying glass.” Dev glanced around. “Anyone got one? Aunt? Got one of those chain things with a glass on it?”

Bertie lifted a disdainful eyebrow. “I am not that old, yet, young man.”

“No offense meant, Aunt.”

“Good.” She harrumphed. “My eyes are fine.” She turned to the footman standing by the sideboard, ready to clear away the remains of breakfast. “Would you ask Baxter to bring Mr. Deverell’s magnifying glass in, please? I’m going to assume it’s in his study.”

“On the table beneath the window, Tom. Thank you.”

“Right away, sir.”

Léonie reached for the box again. “May I?”

The two men backed away as Dev nodded. “Of course.”

She turned it over again, fascinated by the designs that were so intricate and yet when completed so stunning. The mother-of-pearl gleamed with a rainbow of shades when the light touched it at the right place, and the lapis lazuli fragments sparkled with a luminous magic all their own.

And then there was the tiny hole into which something needed to be inserted. She couldn’t begin to imagine what it might be.

Baxter arrived, bearing his master’s magnifying glass with great care. “Here you are, Mr. Dev. Will there be anything else?”

“Not at the moment, thank you Baxter.” He glanced up. “And feel free to clear. The light is good here, so we’ll stay for a bit, but no need to fuss about breakfast.”

Léonie waited with everyone else, patiently watching Dev as he retrieved the box from her and positioned it beneath the magnifying glass.

He moved it back and forth, turning the box, turning his hand, moving into the sunlight, and finally leaning back to put the glass down next to him.

“Well, this is intriguing indeed.” His face was devoid of expression for a few moments, then he shook his head. “I’ve never been a believer in coincidences. In fact, they bother me. But this…” he gestured to the box, “…this has some very surprising elements that go way beyond coincidence.”