Her face must have shown her distress, for all of a sudden she saw Devon striding across the room toward her, his mouth set in a hard line. She half rose to meet him, but Julian tightened his grip on her hand.
And that’s when she felt them, the hard stones slick and cool between her fingers.
Her choker.
She jerked hard against Julian’s grasp. Her sudden movement must have surprised him, because he released her. She seized the heavy gold filigreed clasp, drew the choker from her reticule, and tossed it onto the table. It landed with a dull thud between them, the deep purple stones glittering in the muted light.
Julian stared at it for a moment, then raised his gaze to her face.
Devon had reached her chair, and he let out a low whistle. “You’d part with Hadley’s jewels?”
“No. They’re not Hadley’s. They’re mine.” Charlotte never dropped her gaze from Julian’s face. “A gift.”
“You brought jewels to wager?” Julian’s voice was oddly hushed, his face unreadable.
“No. I intended to wear the choker tonight, Captain. I adore it, you see. It’s one of my favorite pieces. Take it.” She rose to her feet. Her knees were shaking, but just a little bit. “It’s worth far more than two hundred ten guineas, but far less than a promise from me.”
From the corner of her eye Charlotte saw Annabel, Lissie, and Aurelie staring at her from the other side of the Hazard table, their mouths open in shock, but strangely no one followed her when she turned and left the room. Not her friends. Not Devon.
Certainly not Julian.
Perhaps they thought she’d only go far enough to find a quiet space to calm herself, but within seconds she was in the tiny courtyard. She ducked into a shallow recessed doorway, pressed her back against the rough stone wall, and drew great gulping breaths of air into her lungs.
There was no calm to be found in that house. No peace. Every day there were fewer places for her to run to, and if Julian had his way, if he managed to persuade her friends…
There would be no peace for her in anywhere in London.
Chapter Nine
Julian stared at the necklace coiled on the table in front of him and waited for it to rear up, spitting and hissing, and sink its poisoned fangs into his wrist.
Devon pushed it toward him with one finger. “You heard the lady, Captain. Why don’t you take your winnings?”
Why, indeed?She’d wagered and she’d lost. The necklace was his now.
“Lady Hadley’s debt to you is settled whether you take it or not.” Underlying Devon’s polite tone was a note of cold warning. “She owes you nothing now.”
You’re going to lose, Lady Hadley.
But she hadn’t, because he didn’t want her money, her vowels, or her jewels. All he wanted was her promise, but he hadn’t realized its worth until she tossed her necklace onto the table as if her word was more precious than gold and amethysts.
Perhaps it was.
But the necklace—it was nothing more than a diversion, a glittering consolation prize. Julian couldn’t bring himself to touch the thing.
Devon didn’t have such scruples. When Julian made no move to take the necklace, he reached for it himself. Before he could grasp it, however, a slim hand plucked it up from the table.
Julian looked up. Lady Tallant was looking down at him, her blue eyes measuring. She cradled the necklace in her hand—the amethysts winked up at him from the center of her white, kid-gloved palm. “Hold out your hand, Captain West.”
Strangely, he didn’t think to disobey, but simply held out his hand. Lady Tallant dropped the necklace into his palm, and he closed his fingers instinctively around it. The stones were still warm.
She turned to Devon. “My lord. May I have a word?” She took Devon’s arm and led him away, but before they disappeared into the knot of people around the Hazard table she shot a quick, meaningful glance at Julian and gestured with her chin toward the door.
Was she ordering him to leave, or—
All at once he understood. Lady Tallant knew Devon would go after Charlotte, and for some inexplicable reason she wanted Julian to get to her friend first.
It was what an infatuated swain would do, and as far as the widows knew,hewas the infatuated swain in this scenario. Besotted gentlemen didn’t snatch their beloved’s jewels as forfeit for a wager, and then sit and stare stupidly at those jewels while their lady dashed off into the night, alone and unprotected. They charged after her, begged her forgiveness, and wrapped the ill-gotten jewels around her alabaster neck.
