Olivia stared at the square-cut emerald set in its bed of twenty-one diamond chips. She touched the ring with the tip of her forefinger, nudging it a bit across Nat’s open palm.
He misunderstood her wariness and offered the sage observation that it would not bite her.
Olivia was not as certain. “I’ve seen this ring before,” she said. “That you have it seems quite odd to me.”
Nat bristled. “I didn’t steal it.”
“I didn’t think you did,” she said gently. “How do you know it was his lordship who gave it to you?”
“Who else could it have been?”
Who else indeed. She did not answer Nat, but she was certain it had not been Griffin who’d clumsily crossed Marathon last night. “Will you be terribly disappointed to learn that a mistake’s been made? I think perhaps this ring was meant for someone else. I shouldn’t be at all surprised if there is not a velvet bag just like this somewhere in his lordship’s room with a splendid major general inside.”
“Do you think so?”
Olivia smiled at the hopefulness of his expression. “I feel certain of it. May I take the ring?”
“Oh, yes. Have a care, it’s a weighty thing.”
Once again, Nat had put his finger on it exactly.
It was Foster that Olivia entrusted with the task of finding the perfectly turned-out major general. She settled enough money on him to buy Wellington’s entire army but made the major general the first order of business. She also gave him the velvet bag to place the commander in.
She watched him hurry along Putnam Lane until he turned the corner at Moorhead Street before she returned to the house. Somehow she must have imparted the importance of the mission because she could not recall the footman striding so purposefully in any direction.
Olivia found Griffin in the dressing room. He was toweling his hair dry and droplets of water scattered as he shook himself. Mason was setting out his clothes and trying to avoid the spray.
“Will you leave us, Mason?”
The valet hesitated, but not for long. Griffin’s head came out from under his towel and looked from Mason to Olivia and back again. He did not bother to grant permission as his valet was already excusing himself. “If you are going to make a habit of directing Mason in his duties, you really should marry me.”
“What nonsense. What does one have to do with the other?”
“Not a thing, I suspect, but after your declaration of last evening, I find myself compelled to put the matter of our unmarried state before you.”
“Our unmarried state suits me.”
“Yes, well, we are at odds there.” He tightened the hitch of the towel around his waist. “I am hoping to change that.”
Olivia set her mouth in a disapproving line and handed Griffin his robe. She waited until he put it on before she took the ring from her pocket and thrust it forward, displayed in the palm of her hand.
Griffin stared at it, then at her. He cocked one eyebrow. “Is it your brother’s ring?”
“The very same. Go on. Take it.”
He plucked it from her palm and made a cursory examination. When he would have returned it, he saw she’d already dropped her hand to her side. Uncomfortable with the idea of putting it on his own finger, he slipped it into the pocket of his robe. “How did you come by it?”
“Nat gave it to me at breakfast. He thinks you put it under his pillow last night.”
Now both of Griffin’s eyebrows lifted to attention. “Why would he suppose that—” He stopped as the possibilities presented themselves. “You think your brother was here?”
“If there is another explanation, I should like to hear it.”
“He lost the ring, remember? At Johnny Crocker’s hell. In a rigged game.”
“Yes, but when I stayed with Alastair, I asked him about the ring and whether or not he thought he could get it back. He said he could.”
“But why would he?”
