The Devil's Necklace (28 page)

London, England
April 1806

I
t was the affair of The Season. The betrothal of Lady Mary Rose Montague, the earl of Throckmorton’s daughter, to Rafael Saunders, the powerful duke of Sheffield.

The entire London
ton
was present for the occasion, a ball held at Lord Throckmorton’s Mayfair mansion, a gala event to announce the nuptials set for six months hence. As the music of an eight-piece orchestra clad in Throckmorton’s brilliant yellow livery drifted across the ball room, Grace looked up at Ethan and found him gazing into her face.

“What is it?” Concerned she had smudged the faint trace of rice powder she had used to cover the shine on her nose or perhaps her hair was mussed from the last
rondele
she had danced, she reached up to touch her upswept curls.

“I was just thinking how beautiful you are.”

Grace blushed. Ethan rarely said those kinds of things,
though his amazing blue eyes often silently spoke the words. “Thank you. You are looking very handsome tonight yourself.”

Those light blue eyes seemed to darken and she knew what he was thinking. He was a virile, sensual man and his desire for her never seemed to fade. The flush in her face spread down her throat and over her breasts as an answering thread of desire slipped through her.

Ethan’s gaze moved lower, seemed to burn through the bodice of her gold brocade gown, and a warm ache tugged low in her belly. A corner of his mouth edged up as if he knew her thoughts and embarrassed, she glanced away.

Determined to ignore the burning interest she had seen in her husband’s eyes, she fixed her gaze on the dance floor, watching as Rafe claimed a waltz—with his future father-in-law’s permission—with his bride-to-be.

“You are frowning,” Ethan said, following her gaze to the couple stepping into the rhythm of the dance. “You do not favor this match.”

Rafe was tall and dark and elegant, Mary Rose small and blond and fair. She was beautiful and petite, elegantly gowned in pale pink silk, her blond hair perfectly coiffed, yet Rafe’s powerful presence seemed to cast her into shadow.

“They are not well suited. She is a shy young woman and completely in awe of him. She will never be his equal and in a very short time he will grow bored with her.”

“One thing I never have to fear,” he said with the hint of a smile.

Grace ran her fingers over the necklace around her throat, tracing the smoothness of the pearls, the cut of each brilliant diamond. “Rafe has been a dear and loyal friend. He helped us rescue little Andrew. He helped to
save my father’s life. I wish more than anything that he would find the same kind of happiness that we have found together.”

Ethan caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “Perhaps he will.”

“He doesn’t love her. I do not think he ever will.”

“Rafe loved a woman once, but she betrayed him with another man. I don’t think he’ll allow himself to love that way again.”

“Perhaps there is a way to help him.”

Ethan stared down at her, his gaze moving over the pearls. “You are speaking of the necklace.”

She met his gaze, hoping he would understand. “Would you mind terribly if I gave him the pearls? A gift for him to present to his bride on their wedding night.”

“That is yet six months away.” He glance grew intense and one of his black eyebrows arched up. “You are thinking that perhaps the necklace will guide him in his choice, show him the true path to happiness before it is too late.”

“I know it is foolish. I don’t even believe in the legend.” Though she couldn’t help remembering the old woman at the castle or the joy that she had found with Ethan and little Andrew. “Rafe is our friend and I want him to be happy. Perhaps the necklace will help him find the way.”

Ethan bent his head and pressed a soft kiss on her lips. “It’s called the Bride’s Necklace, is it not? Perhaps owning it will help him choose wisely.”

The frown returned to her face. “That may not be possible. Now that he is betrothed, it may be too late.”

“That is up to Rafe. Give him the necklace if you wish.”

She smiled at him, leaned over and lightly brushed his lips. “Thank you.”

Ethan’s gaze returned to the swell of her breasts above the top of her gown. “Cord once mentioned a room here at Sheffield House on the second floor, rather out of the way, I understand, and rarely used. I don’t think anyone would miss us if we disappeared for a while, do you?”

Her pulse quickened. She couldn’t look away from the smoky heat in his eyes or the sensual curve of his lips. They were equally matched, she thought, and perfectly mated, her mind slipping ahead to what would happen in that room. “No, I don’t believe they would miss us in the least.”

His look burned hotter. He glanced at the crush of people surrounding them, spoke just loudly enough for them to hear. “Come, my love. It’s a bit warm in here. Why don’t we take a stroll in the garden?”

Grace bit back a smile. “That is a very good notion, my lord. I believe the night is clear enough for us to see the stars. The Great Bear and the Little Lion should be visible tonight and I am ever so eager to see them.”

Ethan’s smile held a trace of amusement that disappeared beneath a look of sensual heat.

Casting a last glance at the newly betrothed couple on the dance floor, Grace noted Rafe’s fixed smile and bland expression and unconsciously touched the necklace. She thought of the gift she was determined to give her friend and took Ethan’s hand.

Grace smiled up at him and desire poured through her as she let him guide her toward the stairs leading up to the room on the second floor.