Suspicion sparked. Phin eyed the other man with a sharp stare. “You know them.”
Mishra bobbled his head in a nervous gesture very unlike him, but he did not deny it.
“You must trust me,” Phin asserted. “The more I know, the more prepared I can be to defend against the threats that come with it.”
Mishra sighed and pressed his palms together beneath his chin as he whispered reverently, “Forgive me.” Then he added in a hushed tone, “It is a royal family that goes back countless generations into ancient history. A family with many, many descendants. One of whom—the beloved daughter of a powerful raja—was married to a British lord. The Rajkumari became the Duchess of Keldbrook and lived here in London until her death just over six months ago.” He took a lengthy pause. His dark eyes staring intently into Phin’s as his voice dropped to a low, reverberating tone. “I don’t know what karmic forces have already been awakened…but her granddaughter is the lady you met the other day in my shop.”
A shock of lightning jolted through Phineas as the image of Lady Eleanor’s lovely face flew through his mind’s eye. “You don’t mean…”
Phineas was stunned by the rare chance that he should receive the necklace in an unexpected package within days of meeting a woman descended from its historic origins. The coincidencewas…incomprehensible.
“I would not wish you to drag the Rajkumari’s granddaughter into this cursed story,” Mishra admitted. “But she may be the only person to have the information you seek.”
“I will take every precaution. I swear.”
The smaller man’s stare was weighted with fear and concern. Then he reluctantly nodded and released him. “I must be gone. I’ve too many curses attached to my bloodline to add another,” he noted with another bobble of his head before he added with more force, “Do what you must to end your possession of this artifact. It does not belong to you. Do not let’s its evil touch the young princess.”
“I will not,” Phin replied in a firm vow. “You can trust me.”
Mishra’s stare bored into him, intent and focused. Then he issued a soft sound before turning away. “I will see myself out.”
Glancing down, Phin noted that the portrait was still spread across the liquor table. “Mishra, the painting,” he noted quickly, but a turn of his head saw the other man was already gone.
“Keep it,” Mishra’s voice echoed quietly from the hall beyond.
Phin sighed and lowered himself back into the chair. Carefully lifting the parchment, he studied the image, noting the circling swarm of honeybees, the beautiful detail in the flora and fauna creating the border around the woman seated in the center. Her sari was a vibrant red, her hair a gleaming black. She appeared quite young, but clearly possessed an innate elegance in her regal, graceful posture. Though her face was turned slightly to one side, he noted the loveliness of her profile and her dark eyes. And for a second, he saw not a stranger in the image, but the familiar face and form of Lady Eleanor.
A frisson of half alarm, half intent awareness rippled through his body.
Studying the image even more closely, he couldn’t ignore how much it resembled Lady Eleanor. She could have sat for the portrait herself.
A fierce but subtle trepidation gripped him. The more he learned about the necklace, the more complicated the matter became.
Chapter Twelve
Carriages, phaetons, andfashionable barouches lined the street outside the Duke of Lindley’s London home. It appeared Phin was not the only gentleman who’d decided to call upon the fair Lady Eleanor. Despite the negative opinion she claimed Society had of her, the young woman was obviously quite popular.
He realized she probably wouldn’t be pleased to see him. She’d made herself clear when it came to his attention and he’d made a promise not to address her again about the necklace.
But he had no choice.
Barnaby was in trouble and Phin couldn’t help his friend unless he knew more about the situation in which he’d gotten entangled. And that meant learning all he could about the necklace. If it had once truly belonged to an ancestor of Lady Eleanor, perhaps she knew of some family lore that could be helpful.
He had to try.
The ducal residence was a perfect example of understated wealth and power. It spoke of a family that did not require ostentation to convince the world of their worth. Inside the marble hall, fresh flowers filled the air with a subtle perfume. The muffled sound of voices and the subtle head tilt of a stoic footman directed him toward a set of double doors that opened into a surprisingly large drawing room. The size of the room was pertinent as half of London’s eligible bachelors appeared to be in attendance.
Despite the crush, Phineas was undaunted.
Stopping the doorman from announcing him with a quick shake of his head, he entered the fray, choosing to skirt around the outer edge of the room rather than attempting to cut through the crowd. The gentlemen who stood farthest from where the young lady of the house was apparently located milled about in small groups, chatting quietly to each other, awaiting their turn to step up to the front of the pack. No one seemed to notice him sidling his way along the far wall. As he got closer, he noted another layer of gentlemen positioned around a lush seating arrangement where every bit of furniture was also full.
Due to the full occupancy of the room, it took him a moment to spot Lady Eleanor. When he did, his chest gave an odd squeeze, stopping his breath for a moment.
She was gorgeous in a coral-colored day gown, simple, yet elegant, with her hair twisted and pinned into a soft and lovely style atop her head. With barely any effort, she made a regal impression, sitting in a highbacked chair near the grand but unlit fireplace. Her elbows rested gracefully on the cushioned arms of the chair, but her back was tense and straight, at least seven inches from the back of the chair. Her knees were pressed together and her linked fingers lay unmoving in her lap as she looked about the room with a lowered chin.
He noted again the resemblance between Lady Eleanor and the princess in the portrait. Same elegant profile. Same expressive eyes. Same rose-kissed mouth. But where the image of the long-ago princess had embodied a sense of optimism and delight in the world as she looked forward to her future as a bride, Lady Eleanor appeared…watchful and resigned. Though she maintained a subtle smile, she was silent and still. And clearly, unbearably uncomfortable.
It wasn’t until that moment that he realized her cousins were also present. Lady Lydia and Miss Martindale shared a sofa nearby. The first young lady was engaged in a rather lively debate with three gentlemen. Though he couldn’t hear the topic under discussion orcatch more than a word or two, it appeared that the young lady was the coming out the victor in their three-against-one argument.
