Race’s gaze pierced hers. “This is a dangerous game you are playing.”
She whipped her cape around and fitted it onto her shoulders again.
“But play it I must.” She remained firm and collected. “And have no doubts that I am playing for keeps. I intend to find that necklace, and when I do, mark my words, my lord, I will keep it.”
“Did you tell him the pearls had been stolen?”
She blinked rapidly. “Of course not. I merely asked to see what jewels he had, and he has no pearls because Captain Spyglass bought them all.”
Race stepped closer to her, his gaze fixed tightly on hers. In a low voice he said, “I will not let you put yourself at risk over this.”
Anger rose up inside her. Anger for the way he had made her feel last night. Anger because he was now pretending to care about her well-being. Anger because she had an aching sense of despair because she would never feel his touch again.
Susannah suddenly jerked her head so close to Race’s face he flinched. “How dare you think you have any control over me.Youcannot stop me from doing anything I choose to do. I am mistress over my own life, and I can take care of myself. I will thank you to stay away from me.”
Susannah heard the door jingle behind her and knew Mrs. Princeton had come out of the shop. She glanced over her shoulder to her companion. “Come along, Mrs. Princeton. The day is getting late, and we have a party to get ready for.”
Fourteen
My Dearest Grandson Alexander,
I found these words in an old letter Lord Chesterfield once wrote: “I am now privileged by my age to taste and think for myself and not to care what other people think of me in those respects, an advantage which youth, among its many advantages, hath not.”
Your loving Grandmother,
Lady Elder
Race sat in the far corner at the taproom of the Rusty Nail, feeling a loneliness he had never experienced before. He felt cold and empty inside, and he hadn’t been able to shake the fact that no matter how he tried to convince himself differently, he had behaved like a first-class bastard to Susannah earlier that morning and not any better when he’d seen her coming out of Smith’s Antiques Shop just a few hours ago.
It was late afternoon and raining. The damp air held a chill, and he was mindlessly watching a servant stoking the fire he’d just built in the fireplace, and listening to raucous laughter and balls pinging together in the billiards room nearby. Race was still trying to swallow the bad taste his encounter with Susannah left in his mouth, but not even his drink was helping.
Perhaps he hadn’t had enough wine.
Yet.
No doubt as the evening wore on that would change. Perhaps it had been a justifiable reaction at first that he had considered her an accomplice to the theft, but why hadn’t he simply believed her when she’d denied it? He should have. Perhaps it was the fact that the evidence pointed to her as being the most likely suspect.
But now he was rethinking that, and the guilt he felt for accusing her so fiercely bore down on him like a heavy weight.
After he left her house that morning and returned home to dress, he’d found himself stopping whatever task he was doing, be it buttoning his riding breeches or tying his neckcloth, and he would start thinking about his night in Susannah’s arms. It staggered him that on the one hand, his body felt immensely satisfied from their lovemaking, and on the other, he desired her once again with an all-consuming fire that defied his being able to explain it. He couldn’t get the memory of their night together off his mind.
Somehow, she had bewitched him.
He swirled the dark red wine around in his glass. Race shook his head, cleared his throat, and took another sip of his wine. It was past time for him to compose himself and to deal with Susannah and the theft rationally. For some reason, uncharacteristically, he hadn’t yet put all the facts into perspective.
Susannah had truly looked shocked when he accused her of stealing the pearls. She was definitely angry he had stormed into her bedchamber without thought for her reputation. She had been right when she told him the theft was his fault. And later that morning, she was convincing when she said she would find the pearls and she would keep them.
Now he was beginning to see what he had been unable to see earlier. Susannah was not part of the theft, and she was willing to put herself in danger to find the pearls.
Her desire was not news to him. She had freely told him she wanted the necklace. What made him think she wanted it badly enough to steal, when she had been trying to get him to look at the documents she had brought to prove the pearls had been stolen from her family? Documents he’d never looked at.
Was it because of what he was feeling for her that the mere thought she might have betrayed him turned him into a madman? He didn’t know why he had jumped to the wrong conclusions based on flimsy evidence.
He hadn’t told her he would leave his door unlocked, and she certainly wouldn’t have arranged an elaborate plan to steal the pearls just on the assumption that he’d be so eager to get in her bed he wouldn’t remember to lock the door. He knew all that now, but now it might be too late.
He picked up his wine and drank again. Over the rim of the glass, he saw his cousins sauntering into the taproom together, impeccably dressed and both looking like the proud, titled gentlemen they were.
They pulled out chairs and sat down as he placed his wine on the table. Race motioned for the server to bring over two glasses.
