Before he could say anything, she asked, “What makes you think I can help you?”
There was a long pause and she opened her eyes to see him still standing far too close. His gaze studying her. She almost took a step back, but didn’t.
For a moment, it looked like he wanted to say something. His lips parted as a furrow formed between his brows and his gaze swept over her face. But then, with a short shake of his head, he seemed to firmly change his mind.
“I know you recognized the necklace,” he said finally.
Eleanor forced herself to return his beguiling stare with a cool gaze. “Your drawing was similar to an image I’d once seen in a book. That is all. I have nothing else to tell you.” Her declaration was unconvincing even to herself.
He angled his head in an intimate manner as a lock of hair fell over his brow. “I don’t believe you, my lady.” There was no animosity in his tone. Then he paused, as though deliberating his next words. “I simply wish to know all I can, so I may properly defend it against those who would steal it.”
Eleanor met his gaze. “Men like you have a long history of believing themselves entitled to the riches of other cultures. Shouldn’t you count yourself amongst the thieves?”
A smile flickered across his lips with rakish charm and his tone was self-deprecating as he replied, “This time? No. A friend gained possession of it and sent it to me. I have simply been tasked withkeeping it safe. And I’ve never stolen anything without the express purpose of returning it to where it rightfully belongs.”
Eleanor wanted to believe him, but it would certainly make him the exception. “You were tasked with keeping it safe. From whom?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “That’s what I’m hoping to discover.”
She believed him on that, at least. But there were still so many questions about where the necklace had been for the last few hundred years and why it had come out of hiding now.
There was an odd urging inside her. A pressure and a sort of push to delve into this mystery with him. The necklace washerfamily legacy. She felt it her right—no, herduty—to be a part if it’s continued story.
“If you want my help on this matter, as you clearly do,” she noted, “you must tell me everything.”
Another pause followed her words as the man stared into her eyes with a searching stare that pierced to her core. She refused to fidget.
Waring’s expression darkened. When he spoke again, the earnestness of his tone resonated through her.
“Fine. I share this only so you understand the gravitas of the situation. The necklace came with a warning. I believe my friend put himself into great danger to get it to me and could be paying the price even now.” His tone dropped. “There have already been two attempts to claim the necklace here in London.”
“What?” Eleanor interrupted; her eyes wide.
“My point is, I’m at a disadvantage until I understand more about where it came from and why someone would go to extreme lengths to obtain it.”
“How did your friend come by it?” Eleanor asked, intrigued by the tale despite herself.
“I don’t know. Barnaby is no thief. But…he can be impulsive. Reckless. Easily distracted by things that spark his curiosity.”
“I can see why you are friends,” Eleanor noted, inspiring a warmchuckle from the viscount. Her belly tightened at the sound.
“Mishra could only tell me so much. He said your grandmother—”
Eleanor drew a breath of surprise, her eyes widening that Mishra would willingly direct the viscount to them. “Mr. Mishra mentioned my grandmother?”
“He did,” Waring replied. “Because he trusts me. Just as you can.”
“Why?”
He paused in confusion.
“Why does Mr. Mishra trust you?” she pressed. “Why did your friend trust you enough to send such a thing to you? Why shouldItrust you?”
“Because this is what I do,” he replied with a smile.
She scoffed. “You protect jewelry?”
His expression was amused. “No. I solve mysteries involving rare and valuable things from ancient civilizations and faraway places.”
