“Oh?” The shopkeeper’s head bobbed into view from around the corner. His expression undeniably curious. “Exceptional? Why does it seem you say that every time you visit, my lord?”
The viscount’s chuckle was textured with the warmth of the sun. Instantly, Eleanor re-experienced the rush of sensation she’d endured the other night at the ball. More than a riot upon her nerves, this felt like an attack on her very essence. Tingling chills, racing heart, skin that suddenly felt electrified. And that damnable swirling storm in her belly.
All that, and she hadn’t even looked into his eyes yet.
Not that she would!
Goodness! Just the thought of what his bright and piercing staredid to her, made her knees weaken and her breath catch short in her chest.
The man was a menace to her equilibrium.
“What can I say?” Waring quipped in response to Mishra’s teasing. “I’m a fortunate bastard.”
With a chuckle, the shopkeeper waved the gentleman toward his worktable. “What is it this time, then? Some obscure gold statue? A rare manuscript?”
The viscount’s reply deepened with a note of drama. “I swear, this piece makes everything else I’ve ever brought to you look like silly trinkets in comparison.”
Mishra gave a dubious snort. “Do you plan to show me or is it your intention to talk all afternoon? Let’s see this treasure.”
Eleanor tensed as the men stepped close to the worktable. It would seem Mr. Mishra had completely forgotten she was still waiting.
Normally, she was not one to intrude upon a conversation in which she was not involved. And shereallydid not want to make her presence known to the viscount. But she feared that if she did not speak up now, she’d lose her chance once they became more engrossed in…whatever it was Lord Waring thought was so blessed important.
The longer she waited to step forward, the more awkward it would become.
Even with that acknowledgment, it took her several deep breaths and a quick but fierce mental monologue of assurance that she was well within proper manners to interrupt. None of her preparation mattered however, when she finally stepped from her concealing corner to approach the back of the store. The two men stood shoulder to shoulder as the viscount spread a piece of paper on the table between them.
“Mr. Mishra,” she said, cringing. Her voice came out a bit more strident than she intended as she rushed through the words she’drehearsed in her head. “I really must be on my way. Have you found what you were searching for?”
The shopkeeper startled and lifted his head. The shock on the poor man’s face told her that he truly had forgotten she was still there. She almost felt bad for speaking so abruptly, but her sympathy was instantly drowned out by other, greater emotions when Lord Waring turned with slow deliberation to glance over his shoulder. A half smile lifted the corner of his mouth and pleasure sparked in his eyes when he saw her.
The instant she met his stare a sharp blast of heat shot through her. Searing. Bold. Shocking. It felt as though she’d been split down the middle and everything inside her was suddenly exposed.
She forced herself to stand unshrinking and show none of her internal distress, just as she’d practiced for years. But it wasn’t an easy feat.
Though she’d remembered the intense effect of his crystalline eyes and had at least tried to prepare herself for it, she’d somehow forgotten how unsettlingly handsome the man was. Broad forehead, stalwart brows a slightly darker shade than his golden hair, a very slightly hooked nose, and a strong-lined jaw shadowed with a light growth of beard, as though he hadn’t bothered shaving that morning.
“Lady Eleanor.” His warm voice caused subtle waves of vibration to roll through her awareness. “How wonderful to see you again. I cannot imagine how I failed to notice your presence the moment I entered.”
Tensing from the blatant admiration in his stare and the devil-may-care charm in his smile, Eleanor muttered awkwardly, “There was no reason for you to notice, my lord.” His expression twitched with obvious humor. As discomfiting heat flooded her body, Eleanor forced her gaze to Mr. Mishra. “Can you please have my order delivered after all, Mr. Mishra? I’m afraid I cannot wait any longer.”
“Ah, yes, my lady.” The man bobbed his head with a sincereexpression of regret and subtle embarrassment. “Many apologies.”
Ignoring the viscount, Eleanor gave a quick smile. “Do not fret, sir. I can see you have an…urgent customer in need of your attention.”
As she finished speaking, she glanced down to the paper that lay on the table. At first, all she noticed was a quickly drawn sketch of what appeared to be a necklace. But then an odd sense of recognition sparked deeply in her chest, spreading instant warmth through her limbs. And without consciously deciding to do so, she took a step closer and angled her head to see the image better.
It was a necklace, indeed. An elaborate one, if the drawing had done even a halfway decent job of depicting it. Designed in three strands with an undoubted fortune in jewels and a central motif depicting a honeybee that pricked keenly at Eleanor’s memory.
She suddenly felt certain that she’d seen that exact design before.
Surprised, she blinked and glanced up to Lord Waring, wondering how he’d gotten the drawing. He was staring at her rather intently, a glimmer of bold curiosity in his eyes. He’d clearly noticed her reaction to the drawing and was intrigued by it. She could feel his interest like a wave of intrusive heat.
Disconcerted and uneasy, she slid her attention back to the shopkeeper. “I really must be going. Good day, Mr. Mishra.” It was only her deeply ingrained manners that had her giving the viscount a nod—doing her best to avoid meeting his intent stare directly—before she turned and strode swiftly from the shop.
Surely, she had to be mistaken in thinking she’d recognized the necklace.
But she couldn’t quite convince herself of that. And she couldn’t keep from wondering how the viscount had come to possess such an image.
