Deverell's Obsession: A Risqué Regency Romance (4 page)

“Love to. Er…Dev?”

“Yes?”

“What’s her
name
?”

Dev slapped his forehead. “Aaargh. I’m losing my mind today. Her name is Léonie.
Léonie Petrova Girard
.”

As the words rolled off his tongue, as smooth as honey in sunshine, something inside him woke up—and smiled.    

Chapter Four

The room was almost dark when Léonie opened her eyes. She closed them again for a moment, listening, hearing the sound of rain against windows and every now and again the soft pop of a fire.

She felt numb—in body and in mind—the vague remembrance of odd things scuttling around the edges of her consciousness.

Shifting, she felt her leg cramp and she moaned as her toes began to curl.

“What is it? Is it your head?” A hand came down and stroked the hair away from her face.

“N-n-no,” she stuttered. “My leg. Cramping…”

“Ahh, how very much those things hurt.”

He, and it was a
he
, eased the covers away and she felt the chill air against her skin as his hands found her foot and began to massage the toes. She sighed with pleasure as his fingers dug into her calf, loosening the tightness and allowing her to relax once more.

“
Merci
. Thank you…”

Confused, she didn’t know which language to speak, although her savior seemed to understand her.

She was covered again by the bedding and tucked in.

“Hush. You must rest. You are safe, Léonie. Safe at Deverell House in London.”

She closed her eyes and absorbed his words. Something did sound familiar to her. “Deverell House.” She paused. “You are Deverell.”

“Yes.”

“Why are you in this room? Do I live here with you?” It was all so muddled.

“You are my guest and will remain thus until you are well. You suffered an injury and although the doctor tells me you will fully recover, it will take a bit of time.”

“I am to stay?”

“Yes. Here in this lovely suite of rooms. When you are better I look forward to showing you the rest of my home.”

“I shall like that, I think.” Her head was floating.

“I hope so.”

“Why is my head fuzzy?”

She heard a soft chuckle. “Because it’s better to be fuzzy than in pain.”

“I suppose so.”

“The doctor gave you a little laudanum to help you sleep. Rest is important in your healing process.”

“Laudanum. I remember Countess Vorlinka took it. She always looked half asleep.” She yawned.

“And now you know why.”

The hand came back and smoothed her forehead again. It was strange, but comforting. “Thank you Mr. Deverell…” She felt her tongue slur the words.

“Don’t mention it. And my name is Dev.”

“I shouldn’t…” She blinked, a flash of fear darting through her and taking away her breath. “My ring. Where is my ring?”

“Shhh. I have it safe.”

“Why? Did you steal it?” Her fingers scrabbled on the sheet covering her.

“Here, Léonie. Feel. Here is your ring.”

She realized he had taken her hand, turned it over and placed the ring on her palm.

With a sigh of relief, she enclosed it, drawing strength and pleasure from the familiar touch. “Oh thank God.”

“You entrusted me with it when you arrived, my dear. Will you entrust me with it again? I promise I will guard it with my life. It is yours and will always be yours. My word as a Deverell.”

He spoke softly but with a firm determination she could not miss, even in her confused state. “Very well…Dev.” She relinquished the ring back into his keeping, and closed her eyes again as the fog threatened to overwhelm her. “But protect it. It must be secure at all costs. It is the key, you see…”

Her final whisper ended as sleep crawled over her mind and blotted out everything once again.

*~~*~~*

“The key to what, I wonder?”

Dev voiced the thought aloud, even though he was alone in the small ante-room of a business belonging to a Mr. Harold Tomlinson-Scott. During his brief contact with Rundell and Bridge, the foremost jeweler in London, Mr. Tomlinson-Scott had decided that his preference lay with antique items. Estate pieces from earlier eras, rather than some of the magnificent but modern pieces being created and sold by his peers.

He would not, for example, have had much enthusiasm for the creation of the twenty or so snuffboxes, which had been distributed as diplomatic gifts after the Congress of Vienna. The budget for that little enterprise was beyond belief.

No, Harry Scott liked the history associated with ancient pieces of finery. He enjoyed imagining the thoughts of the artisans who made such things, and the lives of those who wore them.

Since Dev had known Harry for more years than he could remember, this small, quiet home and office was the only place he knew he could safely take Léonie’s ring for an appraisal. And maybe a bit of history as well.

He looked at the circle of gold lying in his palm and remembered her hand as she grasped it.

Last night…well, he found himself obliged to peek in on his guest before retiring for the night. The maid was dozing, so he sent her off to refresh herself for half an hour, promising to stay with the patient.

And, fortuitously, that was when she had awoken.

Dev knew there was a little laudanum available and was ready to pour it for her should the headache be unbearable. But other than that leg cramp, she’d seemed comfortable.

Massaging her shapely calf hadn’t been a hardship. At least not for her. And he felt guilty that at the touch of her warm skin, parts of him sprang to life that had no business waking up at that time. Or in that room.

But she was still his obsession, even though she was a real woman. He was having difficulty separating the two in his mind. And going back to his own room, seeing her portrait…well, that hadn’t helped either.

“Good God,
Dev
. It’s been an age.” Harry walked into the room, stopped in surprise, then came forward with a smile and an outstretched hand. “What brings you to my humble cave?”

Dev shook hands. “Can’t I just drop by to say good morning?”

“No.”

“You know me too well, damn you. How’s your mother?” Dev grinned.

“Still nagging, but thriving, thanks.”

“Well get yourself a wife and children and she’ll leave you alone.”

“Dev?”

“What?”

“I can still knock you on your arse, you know.” Harry smirked.

Dev, who knew that Harry had been living with a close friend for many years, simply chuckled. The close friend was a man they both knew, and only a chosen few of Harry’s acquaintances were party to the arrangement.

“Well, give David my regards. We must get together some evening.” Dev punched Harry on the shoulder. “Now, my friend. I’m not here to get my arse kicked, but to pick your brain, believe it or not.”

Harry looked interested. “A professional consultation? What is the world coming to?”

Dev sighed. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Come on then. I’ll let you pick my brain. Provided you leave me something to think with for the rest of the day.”

“Hmm. I’ll do my best.” Dev followed Harry through a door and into a much larger room, where there were boxes, tools, many books and several shiny things Dev would love to have poked at, if he didn’t have anything else to do for a few hours.

“What’s going on?” Harry leaned on one worktable.

“I want you to take a look at this, and tell me your impressions.”

Dev reached into his innermost pocket and retrieved the small leather bag he’d found in his bureau that morning. He opened it and carefully dropped Léonie’s ring onto a piece of dark velvet lying next to Harry’s elbow.

“
Oohh damn
…”

Harry’s muted whisper of interest was immediately followed by the lighting of a lamp and the appearance of a massive magnifying glass, mounted on a stand.

Thus equipped, Harry pulled up a tall stool and sat in front of the ring, pulling the glass over it and peering through with focused intensity.

Dev pulled up a matching stool and took a seat.

And waited.

Patiently.

Then he got up and poked around at things, and then sat down again.

For about an hour and a half…while watching Harry squint, mutter, turn the ring over, move it again, adjust the lamp, pick the ring up with tweezers, examine it and put it down again.

Finally, when Dev’s backside was growing numb, he broke the silence. “Uh, Harry? What do you think? Can you tell me anything about this ring?”

Harry jumped. “God, I’m sorry. I get lost in my work sometimes. When it’s a special piece.” He leaned back and rubbed his eyes. “You’ve got a special piece, here, Dev. A very special piece.”

“I guessed as much after the first hour you spent looking at it.”

“You asked. Don’t complain if I take my time.”

“I’m not. But I’m very anxious to hear your thoughts. It’s important, Harry.”

“You’re right. This is important.”

Harry slid from his stool and walked over to one of the bookshelves, finally selecting a dog-eared tome and bringing it back over to the table. He put it down in front of Dev and thumbed to a certain page.

“Look.” He pointed at the illustration.

Dev blinked. It was a sketch of some kind of Egyptian wall painting, probably taken from an archaeologist’s notes. Dev had seen them before, especially after Napoleon had raided some of the tombs and commissioned a huge body of work on Egyptian antiquities.

The first volumes of his
Description de l'Égypte
had been published several years before, and they had contained many such illustrations.

But it was the hand of the figure that Harry pointed to.

The one wearing a ring almost exactly the same as the one on that table.

Dev’s jaw dropped.  “Jesus.”

“Quite. Actually not quite. About a thousand years earlier.”

“You’re telling me that Léonie has a ring that’s from an Egyptian dynasty close to…” he stumbled over the maths, ”…
three thousand years ago
?”

“Give or take, yes.” Harry nodded. “It’s not the same ring, Dev. It’s a smaller version.”

Dev looked again, realizing that the long braided tail was actually a beard. So this was a man wearing the ring. Perhaps a king…

“You think perhaps this is the wife’s version?”

Harry pursed his lips in thought. “I’d hate to say yes or no on that, but the jeweler in me tells me that it was made either for a woman or for a child. Simply by virtue of its size.”

“Damn. How on earth did she get it?” Dev stared at the page, scarce believing his own eyes. “I thought it might be a couple of hundred years old. The gold is soft to the eye. Aged.”

“Very observant. Yes, the aging has certainly taken place. But given the millennia rather than centuries, I’d also suggest that there may once have been engravings or carvings on it. It’s not just the surface that’s worn, it’s the decorations that have worn
off
.”

Dev shook his head. “I’m speechless. I have no idea how she got this, or if she knows how old it could be.”

“There’s something else.” Harry moved to a tool bench and fussed through a box, finally digging out a tiny pick. “Pull that lamp in a bit and come look at this.”

The two men stood shoulder to shoulder, and Dev could see the ring, massively enlarged now through Harry’s magnifier.

There were indeed minute tracings of what might once have been golden swirls or markings. He’d thought they were scratches when he’d taken his first casual look at it. How many hands must have caressed that piece to wear the surface down to its current smoothness.

“See here?” Harry’s pick was at the upper edge of the stone, moving along what had looked like a slight lip in the gold.

“Yes. That’s what’s holding the stone in place, isn’t it? Very cleverly done.”

“Right. It does hold the emerald snugly. But watch…”

With amazing dexterity, Harry pressed downward on the tiny ledge with his pick, and to Dev’s astonishment, it moved, sliding over the stone and then fanning to one side.

The emerald dropped out.

“
Fuck
.” Dev swore. He’d promised Léonie he’d keep the ring safe. Now Harry had broken the damn thing.

“Relax. It’s meant to do that.”

“
What
? It is?
Why
?” Dev’s mind struggled with the idea.

“Here’s the answer.”

Turning the ring so that the socket for the gem was revealed beneath the glass and in the full glare of the lamp, Dev peered into the golden opening. And at the very bottom were several intricate carvings and one tiny point.

“Now look at this.” Harry turned over the emerald, and to Dev’s astonishment, the bottom of the gem matched the markings in the socket. In reverse.

“So…” Dev gulped. “Let me see if I understand this. The bottom of this jewel has been notched to match the ridges in the gold. Is that to hold it in place? Is it why there’s that tiny lip thing and nothing else?”