Deverell's Obsession: A Risqué Regency Romance Read online

  He looked at the circle of gold lying in his palm and remembered her hand as she grasped it.

  Last night…well, he found himself obliged to peek in on his guest before retiring for the night. The maid was dozing, so he sent her off to refresh herself for half an hour, promising to stay with the patient.

  And, fortuitously, that was when she had awoken.

  Dev knew there was a little laudanum available and was ready to pour it for her should the headache be unbearable. But other than that leg cramp, she’d seemed comfortable.

  Massaging her shapely calf hadn’t been a hardship. At least not for her. And he felt guilty that at the touch of her warm skin, parts of him sprang to life that had no business waking up at that time. Or in that room.

  But she was still his obsession, even though she was a real woman. He was having difficulty separating the two in his mind. And going back to his own room, seeing her portrait…well, that hadn’t helped either.

  “Good God, Dev. It’s been an age.” Harry walked into the room, stopped in surprise, then came forward with a smile and an outstretched hand. “What brings you to my humble cave?”

  Dev shook hands. “Can’t I just drop by to say good morning?”

  “No.”

  “You know me too well, damn you. How’s your mother?” Dev grinned.

  “Still nagging, but thriving, thanks.”

  “Well get yourself a wife and children and she’ll leave you alone.”

  “Dev?”

  “What?”

  “I can still knock you on your arse, you know.” Harry smirked.

  Dev, who knew that Harry had been living with a close friend for many years, simply chuckled. The close friend was a man they both knew, and only a chosen few of Harry’s acquaintances were party to the arrangement.

  “Well, give David my regards. We must get together some evening.” Dev punched Harry on the shoulder. “Now, my friend. I’m not here to get my arse kicked, but to pick your brain, believe it or not.”

  Harry looked interested. “A professional consultation? What is the world coming to?”

  Dev sighed. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Come on then. I’ll let you pick my brain. Provided you leave me something to think with for the rest of the day.”

  “Hmm. I’ll do my best.” Dev followed Harry through a door and into a much larger room, where there were boxes, tools, many books and several shiny things Dev would love to have poked at, if he didn’t have anything else to do for a few hours.

  “What’s going on?” Harry leaned on one worktable.

  “I want you to take a look at this, and tell me your impressions.”

  Dev reached into his innermost pocket and retrieved the small leather bag he’d found in his bureau that morning. He opened it and carefully dropped Léonie’s ring onto a piece of dark velvet lying next to Harry’s elbow.

  “Oohh damn…”

  Harry’s muted whisper of interest was immediately followed by the lighting of a lamp and the appearance of a massive magnifying glass, mounted on a stand.

  Thus equipped, Harry pulled up a tall stool and sat in front of the ring, pulling the glass over it and peering through with focused intensity.

  Dev pulled up a matching stool and took a seat.

  And waited.

  Patiently.

  Then he got up and poked around at things, and then sat down again.

  For about an hour and a half…while watching Harry squint, mutter, turn the ring over, move it again, adjust the lamp, pick the ring up with tweezers, examine it and put it down again.

  Finally, when Dev’s backside was growing numb, he broke the silence. “Uh, Harry? What do you think? Can you tell me anything about this ring?”

  Harry jumped. “God, I’m sorry. I get lost in my work sometimes. When it’s a special piece.” He leaned back and rubbed his eyes. “You’ve got a special piece, here, Dev. A very special piece.”

  “I guessed as much after the first hour you spent looking at it.”

  “You asked. Don’t complain if I take my time.”

  “I’m not. But I’m very anxious to hear your thoughts. It’s important, Harry.”

  “You’re right. This is important.”

  Harry slid from his stool and walked over to one of the bookshelves, finally selecting a dog-eared tome and bringing it back over to the table. He put it down in front of Dev and thumbed to a certain page.

  “Look.” He pointed at the illustration.

  Dev blinked. It was a sketch of some kind of Egyptian wall painting, probably taken from an archaeologist’s notes. Dev had seen them before, especially after Napoleon had raided some of the tombs and commissioned a huge body of work on Egyptian antiquities.

  The first volumes of his Description de l'Égypte had been published several years before, and they had contained many such illustrations.

  But it was the hand of the figure that Harry pointed to.

  The one wearing a ring almost exactly the same as the one on that table.

  Dev’s jaw dropped. “Jesus.”

  “Quite. Actually not quite. About a thousand years earlier.”

  “You’re telling me that Léonie has a ring that’s from an Egyptian dynasty close to…” he stumbled over the maths, ”…three thousand years ago?”

  “Give or take, yes.” Harry nodded. “It’s not the same ring, Dev. It’s a smaller version.”

  Dev looked again, realizing that the long braided tail was actually a beard. So this was a man wearing the ring. Perhaps a king…

  “You think perhaps this is the wife’s version?”

  Harry pursed his lips in thought. “I’d hate to say yes or no on that, but the jeweler in me tells me that it was made either for a woman or for a child. Simply by virtue of its size.”

  “Damn. How on earth did she get it?” Dev stared at the page, scarce believing his own eyes. “I thought it might be a couple of hundred years old. The gold is soft to the eye. Aged.”

  “Very observant. Yes, the aging has certainly taken place. But given the millennia rather than centuries, I’d also suggest that there may once have been engravings or carvings on it. It’s not just the surface that’s worn, it’s the decorations that have worn off.”

  Dev shook his head. “I’m speechless. I have no idea how she got this, or if she knows how old it could be.”

  “There’s something else.” Harry moved to a tool bench and fussed through a box, finally digging out a tiny pick. “Pull that lamp in a bit and come look at this.”

  The two men stood shoulder to shoulder, and Dev could see the ring, massively enlarged now through Harry’s magnifier.

  There were indeed minute tracings of what might once have been golden swirls or markings. He’d thought they were scratches when he’d taken his first casual look at it. How many hands must have caressed that piece to wear the surface down to its current smoothness.

  “See here?” Harry’s pick was at the upper edge of the stone, moving along what had looked like a slight lip in the gold.

  “Yes. That’s what’s holding the stone in place, isn’t it? Very cleverly done.”

  “Right. It does hold the emerald snugly. But watch…”

  With amazing dexterity, Harry pressed downward on the tiny ledge with his pick, and to Dev’s astonishment, it moved, sliding over the stone and then fanning to one side.

  The emerald dropped out.

  “Fuck.” Dev swore. He’d promised Léonie he’d keep the ring safe. Now Harry had broken the damn thing.

  “Relax. It’s meant to do that.”

  “What? It is? Why?” Dev’s mind struggled with the idea.

  “Here’s the answer.”

  Turning the ring so that the socket for the gem was revealed beneath the glass and in the full glare of the lamp, Dev peered into the golden opening. And at the very bottom were several intricate carvings and one tiny point.

  “Now look at this.” Harry turned over the emerald, and to Dev’s astonishme
nt, the bottom of the gem matched the markings in the socket. In reverse.

  “So…” Dev gulped. “Let me see if I understand this. The bottom of this jewel has been notched to match the ridges in the gold. Is that to hold it in place? Is it why there’s that tiny lip thing and nothing else?”

  Harry shook his head. “No, but you’re on the right track.” He adjusted the lamp once more. “Let me put it all back together and then I’ll show you what I think this may be about.”

  Dev’s heart jumped into his throat as he watched Harry’s delicate maneuvers with the emerald, little nudges and movements that finally seated the beautiful gem back into its nest. With equally dexterous skill, he swung the tiny lip back across the stone and into its slot, securing everything and returning it to its previous beauty.

  “The workmanship that went into this, Dev. Our jewelers would be challenged to reproduce this today, so imagine how it must have awed everyone a couple of thousand years ago.”

  “Truly a gift for a Queen.” Dev could only shake his head and stare.

  “Now,” said Harry. “Come over here and I’ll show you what I think is the purpose of that ring. And this is only a guess, mind you.”

  “At this point, my friend, after what I’ve just seen…well, you could tell me my horse is blue and I’d believe you.” Dev took a breath. “My mind is reeling.”

  “Well, your horse isn’t blue. But that ring holds secrets.” He led Dev to a different part of his workshop, where there was an assortment of inlaid boxes, both large and small. “A hobby of mine. Magic boxes.”

  Dev groaned. He was very bad at these kinds of puzzles. He’d been given one as a child and remembered spending one very frustrating holiday in the country trying to open the bloody thing. He never had. It might even still be there today, in the back of the greenhouse, where he’d shoved it into a plant pot and covered it with soil, thus consigning it to an early grave beneath an aspidistra.

  “Don’t worry,” chuckled Harry. “You don’t have to open these. It’s an acquired taste. But there’s one that I recalled as soon as I saw the inside of that ring.”

  He reached up and pulled down a fairly simple box, several inches square. On the top was a circle of concentric wooden rings, topped with a smooth ball of what looked like white marble or alabaster stone. The sides were smooth, there were a few inlays here and there, and around the ring on the top were carvings and indentations. It looked as if it might have been Indian.

  “This is Persian.”

  “I was close. I would have said Indian.”

  “And as you can see, there are no obvious ways of opening it.”

  “Right.” Dev frowned. He really hated these things.

  “Now observe.”

  Harry twisted the smooth stone and with a slight click it lifted off the top of the box. But instead of a round ball, it was a half sphere. Harry turned it upside down and showed Dev the base where there were some ridged carvings sticking upward.

  “And now the clever bit. This took me weeks to figure out.”

  Harry took the stone, moved the box slightly, and aligned the carvings beneath the stone with some carvings on one corner of the top of the box.

  He pushed the stone into the matching holes…and the top popped up, revealing the empty insides.

  “That is clever,” Dev agreed. “And damn sneaky.” Then the wheels fell into place inside his head. “Oh my God. The markings inside the ring? You think they’re a…”

  “Key. Yes, I think they could well be a key that opens…what? I have no idea at all.”

  “A key. She said it was a key…What the hell has she gotten herself into?”

  Harry stared at him. “I think we could both use a brandy. And then you can tell me who ‘she’ is. This Léonie.”

  Dev stared at his friend for a long moment. “I can’t. Not yet. But I promise you I will come back when I have it worked out and you shall know everything.”

  His long look was returned steadily, and finally Harry nodded. “If it’s that important, then I’ll accept your promise to return.”

  “Thank you, Harry. You’re a true friend.”

  “Who will, if you don’t keep your end of this bargain, find you, beat you senseless and steal this bloody ring for myself. Do you understand?”

  Dev grinned. “Perfectly.”

  Chapter Five

  Léonie opened her eyes once more onto a room she didn’t recognize. But this time, there was no apprehension, just a sense of warmth and comfort. For a few moments she snuggled the coverlet up around her chin and relished the softness of her bed. This was luxury indeed.

  Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she took in the warm golden curtains drawn across the window and the rich deep gold of the furniture. It was functional yet attractive; exactly suitable for a guest room.

  Happy to have deduced that much, she realized that not only were her brains finally functioning, but so was the rest of her.

  It was time to move from her cocoon and examine her surroundings.

  “Oh miss, I thought I heard you. Please. Let me help.”

  A young maid hurried into the room, bearing what looked like a dressing gown over one arm.

  Léonie paused, seated on the edge of the bed with her toes on the thick carpet. “Oh, no, really. I can manage.”

  She stood—and the room began to sway.

  The maid was at her side. “You have to take it slow, miss. Nasty fever you’ve had. Takes time to get your strength back.”

  Léonie had to agree, and allowed the girl to lead her to the chamber pot. Refusing further assistance, Léonie took care of matters and emerged feeling a great deal better.

  “Now, miss, I have orders to either see you back to bed for a bit, or ask you to slip into this…” she picked up the dressing gown, “… and have a little breakfast in your private parlor next door. What do you feel up to?”

  “I think breakfast sounds like an excellent idea, if you please.” She allowed the girl to slip the warm robe over her arms and tie it at the waist. “What is your name?”

  “I’m Jenny, miss.” The girl curtsied. “I’m to take care of you while you’re here at Deverell House. If that’s acceptable, of course.”

  “How lovely, Jenny. Of course it’s acceptable. I’m so pleased you’re here to lend me a hand.”

  The girl smiled happily. “Very good, miss. Now if you’ll just take my arm. Lean on me if you need to. You’ve been under the weather for a bit, Mrs. Williams says, so taking it easy for a while is the best medicine.”

  “Mrs. Williams?”

  “Our housekeeper. I’m sure she’ll be up to say hello when you’re back on your feet.”

  Opening the door for them both, Jenny led Léonie into a small sitting room, decorated in the same style as the bedroom. These were elegant guest accommodations, without a doubt.

  “Now there’s tea and a bit of toast, and Cook thought you might like a few strawberries. That’s her jam—best in London Mr. Deverell says. And the berries are fresh up from the country. They’re in season, I’m told, but honestly? I’m a city girl. Dunno when strawberry season is, I’m afraid.”

  “That’s all right, dear. As long as the strawberries know. That’s the main thing.”

  A voice from the doorway attracted Léonie’s attention and a slight woman entered, dressed all in pink. From the pale pink of her fichu to the deep rose of the ruffles at the hem of her day dress, she was a walking poem to the rose. Except for the cluster of brilliant red curls. Although even they were casually secured by pink ribbon.

  “Good morning, my dear Léonie.” The woman swept across the room, enveloped Léonie in a gentle hug and dropped a soft kiss on her cheek. “Come and sit down. I’m so glad to see you awake and looking much better.”

  “Thank you, Ma’am.” Léonie sat, feeling rather overwhelmed and pretty much at sea since she had no idea who this charming lady was.

  “We’ll manage, Jenny. You can go. Miss Léonie will ring if she needs any
thing.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Jenny curtsied and hurried away.

  “Now.” The woman poured tea and pushed the cup and saucer toward Léonie. “Let’s talk, my dear. And please…call me Aunt Bertrande? Or actually I’d prefer Aunt Bertie. I’m Dev’s aunt, you see, so it’s quite proper.”

  “You were in my room…I know I saw you.” Léonie grasped at a blurry memory.

  “I was,” nodded Aunt Bertie. “Day before yesterday. The doctor came to see you and after he left, Dev told me I might drop in and say hello. But you were already a bit sleepy from the laudanum. Best thing for a head injury, though. Rest and plenty of it. You needed that day in bed.”

  Reminded of that issue, Léonie gingerly lifted her hand to the back of her head. “Ouch.” It was very tender and there was still a dull ache behind her temples. But the blinding pain she knew had engulfed her—that was gone.

  “Better, is it?” Aunt Bertie sipped her tea.

  “It is.” Léonie reached for toast. “And I find I’m famished.”

  The older woman smiled. “Not surprising. We don’t know the last time you ate anything and you’ve been asleep for over twenty four hours here..”

  Léonie thought while she chewed. Up to this point she’d been afraid of where she was and whom she was with. She had no point of reference to tell her whom she could trust.

  But here, in this lovely room, with tea, breakfast and a warmly smiling woman across from her, it seemed like a safe haven. A sanctuary.

  And finally Léonie relaxed.

  “I wish I knew, Aunt Bertie. Truly I do. But I have a confession to make. I cannot remember a damned thing.” The curse slipped out and she glanced up, blushing, only to see a smile brighten the face looking at her.

  “Well in that case, dearest girl, we’ll have to figure the whole damned mess out, won’t we?”

  *~~*~~*

  Unaware that his aunt and his guest had reached an amiable point in their budding relationship, and were planning on masterminding a plot to uncover “everything”, Dev decided that he would make some subtle enquiries about this Elwyn person. Aubrey Elwyn. And where better to start than his club? So after working on routine business for an hour or so in the morning, he summoned Baxter, asked him to inform the ladies where he was going and set out.