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‘I prefer the countryside and a quieter pace of life,’ Lilya said, firmly shutting down that avenue of conversation.
He nodded in understanding. ‘My family had a villa on Chios, before the troubles. I was fourteen, when …’ he paused for effect and drew a deep breath before continuing ‘ … when the trouble came. We lost the villa and much more in the reprisals, of course.’
Lilya could not help but be touched by his disclosure.All Phanariots knew what had happened at Chios, how the Ottomans had struck Chios in deliberate retaliation for the rebellion in Negush, the rebellion her father and others had led. Families had been killed, children orphaned, countless wealth lost. It had brought the Phanar to its knees.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said with quiet sincerity. Regardless of her inherent scepticism, she knew what it meant to lose family. She should not have doubted him. She had lost her family at Negush as he had lost his at Chios. She would never forget clutching baby Constantine to her and watching in frozen horror as her aunt and Alexei were cut down. She’d feared the same would happen to her but Valerian had been a veritable berserker, defending Dimitri Stefanov’s children in that little copse of trees.
Christoph placed his hand over hers, the warmth of a private smile playing across his lips, his voice low and confidential. ‘Thank you. Only those who have experienced such devastation firsthand can truly appreciate what those days meant to us and how we’ve had to rebuild a new life. We’ve been cast to all corners of Europe these days, and still we survive, yes?’
Survival was at stake right that moment, Lilya thought, staring up at Christoph Agyros’s darkly handsome face. She worried that she’d made a tactical mistake. She had not told him where she was from when they’d met in the park. Yet he’d pushed ahead with his assumptions as if they’d been confirmed and she had not corrected him. Perhaps she should have. But a correction would have been a denial, a lie. If he discovered the truth later, he would wonder why she’d attempted the subterfuge. If he wasn’t suspicious of her now, he would be then. If he was truly a diplomatic aide with no ties to the diamond, then she had nothing to fear from the admission. If he had darker purposes, he knew who she was already. A lie would be useless at best, a confirmation at worst. Only people with something to hide lied.
‘My family was killed in Negush,’ she admitted quietly, her decision made. They’d somehow managed to find a place slightly off the path. They were alone in the brightly lit garden.
‘You are hesitant to talk of the past,’ he said softly. ‘Do not be ashamed. We have thrived. Like a phoenix, we have risen from the ashes.’ His voice carried a quiet intimacy, his words attempting to bind them together. She could allow herself to take comfort in the moment, but she could not take more, could not trust him more. Not yet.
‘Lilya,’ he whispered her name, his hand gently cupping her cheek, his intentions unmistakable. He was going to kiss her. They both knew it. He was a handsome man and so far she had no reason to feel threatened. There was no motivation for her alarm, but it was there all the same.
A voice intruded, terse and sharp. ‘Miss Stefanov, there you are.’
Beldon.
Lilya breathed a relieved sigh and stepped back out of reach at the sound of the familiar voice.
‘We’ve got a dance coming up.’ Beldon’s tone brooked no disagreement. His eyes were cold as he took in Christoph Agyros. How much had Beldon seen? For no particular reason, it didn’t sit well with her that he might have spied them on the brink of a kiss, unwanted as the kiss might have been.
Beldon held out his arm for her, offering her a reason to cross the pathway to join him. ‘Give me a moment with Mr Agyros, please. There are a few things I need to explain to him.’ His eyes were hard, looking past her to Christoph. Lilya complied, sensing argument would only serve to make her look foolish and to encourage Christoph. If she protested, Christoph would think she’d welcomed the kiss. With what she hoped looked like dignity, Lilya walked a discreet distance up the path and left Beldon to his ‘business’.
Beldon’s explanations did not take long and he soon materialised by her side. ‘What, precisely, did you explain to Mr Agyros?’ Lilya enquired, trying to sound affronted. The idea of Beldon meddling in her affairs left her feeling foolish in his presence. No doubt he considered her lacking in all sense to be caught almost-kissing an almost-stranger, especially when he knew she’d been wary of Mr Agyros in the park. He would wonder what kind of woman kissed a man she didn’t trust or necessarily know.
‘I explained to him that in our part of the world, a gentleman does not steal kisses on such short acquaintance and that a woman’s reputation is taken most seriously.’
She heard the message hidden there for her. Real gentlemen protected a woman’s reputation for her, but a woman had to guard her reputation as well. Lilya flushed at the subtle scolding.
Beldon’s demeanour relaxed slightly. ‘It’s only that Val left me in charge. I would see you treated with the respect you deserve.’ He paused, leaning his head close to her ear, his breath against her ear lobe sending a skittering sensation to her stomach. ‘And I could see that you did not wish for things to progress further.’
She heard forgiveness in his words. He had not missed any of the nuances. He’d understood perfectly what had happened in the garden.
‘No one kisses a woman against her will under my protection.’
There was a surprising ferocity in the hard set of his features that mirrored the power of his words. He was studying her with a male intensity that went beyond the scrutiny of a chaperon. For a moment, she envisioned she saw desire in his eyes, a desire for her that went beyond protection. Then it was gone. Of course, she must have been mistaken. He meant to pursue another. She’d seen him dancing with Lady Eleanor, all manners, nothing at all like the feral male who strode beside her now, his vaunted self-control threatening to slip its leash. All for her.
‘Exactly what dance are we dancing?’ Lilya attempted levity, hoping to restore her senses. She and Beldon were not themselves tonight. Beldon was a caged tiger, bristling with barely leashed fury. And she was no better, shivering at the sound of his voice near her ear, imagining hot desire in his eyes and, worse yet, welcoming it, wondering over it like the gaggles of women in the ballrooms who followed him everywhere with their eyes.
‘A polka, I believe.’ Beldon placed a hand at the small of her back to usher her through the door, his urbane manners reappearing the moment he set foot on the dance floor with her, the leash firmly back on his emotions. She envied him the ease with which he segued into politeness. No one would guess minutes ago he’d been out in the garden defending her jeopardised honour.
Lilya was glad the dance was a whirling polka, demanding all her energy. There wasn’t time to talk, only to dance, and yet even then she was conscious of Beldon’s every move: the flex of his shoulders, the muscles of his legs as they progressed through the steps. Perhaps it was a consequence of the Season and everyone being excessively marriage-minded that one couldn’t help but consider every male as a possible mate, even ones that were off limits. For her, that meant all of them, but especially Beldon. This was the worst possible time to be distracted; Greece was poised on the brink of independence and a Phanariot stranger had sought out her attentions. It was definitely time to strap on a dagger.
Chapter Four
Christoph Agyros let himself out by way of the back gate. He would not be missed and he had much to think about. The Filiki Adamao, the Brotherhood of the Diamond, would be pleased to know he’d completed the first part of his mission: to locate the daughter of Dimitri Stefanov. The Stefanovs were one of the names that came up repeatedly throughout history where the diamond was concerned. He’d been dispatched to hunt her down once she’d disappeared. There were other names, too. It was not a guarantee the Stefanovs were the keepers of the diamond. Others had been sent to explore those avenues. Now it was up to luck.
The next step was to determine if she had the diamond. Christoph hoped so. He did not like to think he’d journeyed this far only to meet a red herring. If it was his quarry that possessed the diamond, the possibilities were endless. He whistled in the darkness, trying to keep his thoughts from getting too far ahead.
The Filiki Adamao wanted the diamond for political reasons. They wanted the financial leverage to influence the next ruler, to set themselves up as the power behind the throne. They were a sentimental lot of older men. Sentiment and patriotism had its place, of course. But Christoph Agyros had a better cause: himself.
The idea had come to him during one of the many cold nights he’d spent on the road in inferior inns. He could claim the diamond for himself. After all, what had those old men done to retrieve the diamond? They’d plotted and planned, but in the end he’d endured the hardships. He’d been the one to attach himself to the Macedonian attaché once he’d arrived in London, a stroke of genius in hindsight. It had allowed him entrée into Lilya Stefanov’s world—her very wealthy, privileged world.
The pretty Phanariot had done well for herself. Once the usual hiding places had been exhausted, the Filiki Adamao had suspected she’d run to England and her father’s old friend. It was a long way to run, especially for a young woman alone. There had been some hope she’d be waylaid on the road, but she’d managed to reach England intact.
It didn’t matter how far she ran. He’d find her. Now that he’d seen her, a new plan was forming; if she had the diamond, he’d marry her. She might not even know he was after the diamond. She might believe he loved her. Women liked to believe in that twaddle and he was good at convincing them he did, too. It would, unfortunately, be a short marriage. The phrase ‘until death to us part’ was quite ambiguous about the length of the marital partnership. But at least it would be consummated. He would pay special attention to that detail.
The next step would be to court her with every ounce of his charm. He would make it a whirlwind romance, one that could justify a hasty marriage and quick departure back to the homeland in August, while attempting to ascertain her possession of the diamond. All this would be easier without her fierce protector. Lord Pendennys had made his position quite clear tonight. Christoph kicked at a loose pebble. It wasn’t the first time Pendennys had shown an interest in Miss Stefanov. Christoph had been aware of Pendennys watching them that first day in the park.
Christoph shrugged in the darkness. If she didn’t have the diamond, Pendennys could have her. But if she did, nothing would stand in his way, not even the good baron.
Beldon gave his cravat a final tug for good measure and shrugged into the carefully pressed morning coat of chocolate-brown superfine. It was time to step up his London campaign, as he was starting to refer to his plans for the Season. To do so, he needed to go shopping.
Beldon turned to his valet and took the driving gloves he offered. ‘Thank you, Fredericks. I can handle everything from here.’ He took the stairs with a rapid step, something shopping had never engendered in him before. But today was different. He was going to pick out a sincerity piece for Eleanor Braithmore and by doing so, firmly put errant thoughts of Lilya out of his mind. Goodness knew there were a million of them.
When he wasn’t thinking of dancing with her, he was thinking of finding her in Christoph Agyros’s arms, willowy and elegant, every man’s most kissable fantasy with her head tilted up just so, her lips slightly parted. That particular sight had filled him with unmitigated fury. She had not looked fully committed to the idea of that kiss when he’d come upon them. Even if she had, he would have felt compelled to stop it. He was the chaperon, after all. He had his duties.
At least that’s what he told himself.
In his more honest moments, he had his doubts.
Truth was, he’d wanted to be the man doing the kissing. The idea shocked him. He was not prepared for the magnitude of the revelation. He wanted to kiss Lilya. Wanted to do more than kiss her. Since the night he’d seen her delectable back, lust had been steadily growing, riding him hard in ways he was not used to. His reaction to Lilya was indeed stunning and unexpected, but it would resolve itself in time. She was merely a novelty to him. Eventually, the edge she raised in him would dull and fade.
Outside Pendennys House, his phaeton was waiting and Beldon swung confidently up on to the high seat in optimistic spirits. The best way to deal with temptations was to remove them altogether, hence the shopping trip. Thank goodness the sun was out.
He much preferred shopping in good weather if he had to shop at all. Squelching around in the mud and dashing between shop fronts dampened an experience he already found unenjoyable. Beldon pulled up in front of the Burlington Arcade with its uniformed guards and tossed the reins to his tiger. The Pendennys family jewellers, Messrs Bentham and Brown, were not far.
A doorman held open the door to the elite jewellers’. Ah, it was quiet in here, and private, a marked contrast from the busy street. Mr Brown came forwards to greet him personally when he stepped inside the shop.
Beldon had just taken a seat on a cushioned bench in front of the gem cases and explained his purpose when the door opened again. It was a small shop and Beldon could not help but turn to see the newcomer.
He stifled a groan of disbelief. Of all the jewellery shops in London, she had to walk into this one. In hindsight the odds were pretty good. It was the one Val and Philippa frequented. But who would have guessed she’d need a jeweller the same day he did? Fate had definitely made him her latest whipping boy. For all his efforts to drive Lilya from his mind, she seemed determined to keep showing up.
Lilya stepped forwards with a friendly smile, clearly feeling none of his angst over the encounter. ‘Oh, hello, Beldon, fancy meeting you here.’
Chapter Five
When had she started calling him by his first name? Never mind that it sounded right. Beldon rose to his feet, playing the gentleman. ‘Miss Stefanov, how good to see you. Are you enjoying the fine weather?’ Good Lord, could he sound any more ridiculous? His greeting seemed extraordinarily stiff compared to her more effusive, warmer one.
She smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, a reminder that she was not the usual débutante; she was far more worldly, able to understand the underlying nuances of conversation. He had not called her Lilya and she took it as a subtle rebuke. ‘The weather is lovely. We’ve had so little sun this year, it seems a special treat.’
The weather was duly dispatched and they stood facing one another for an awkward moment until Mr Brown broke in. ‘I’ll get the viscount’s things. My lord, I’ve laid out some trays if you’d like to begin looking.’
‘Yes, thank you, Mr Brown.’ Beldon turned back to the trays, immediately aware of his new dilemma. A gentleman did not ignore the presence of a lady, particularly when they were the only two people present. But a gentleman also did not discuss his affairs with a lady.
Lilya materialised at his side, having crossed the small space quietly. ‘It is awkward, is it not? All this formality when we’re not exactly strangers. It seems silly to have to pretend.’
It was on the tip of his tongue to ask precisely what they were when Mr Brown returned with a small package. ‘Here are the rings the viscount had sent in to be reset.’
Lilya took the package. ‘And the parure? Lady St Just said there would be two packages.’
Mr Brown excused himself again.
‘Val and Philippa are having the St Just jewels remounted in more modern settings,’ she explained. It was the perfect invitation to share his reason for being here. He chose to pass up the opportunity, but Lilya proved tenacious and perceptive.
‘Are you selecting a betrothal piece? ‘
He felt compelled to correct her. ‘No, there are jewels in the family vault for that. I merely wanted to select a sincerity piece.’
‘That’s a very kind gesture. I am sure whatever you choose will be lovely.’
That decreed a certain challenge. Would she tell him the truth if he picked something unacceptable? He had a rather perverse urge to find out. He picked up a necklace. ‘I was thinking of this.’
The piece was pretty enough, but he knew it was wrong, too showy for his purposes. Would Lilya know? Would she say anything? A typical lady would not dare to contradict him. Lilya did not hesitate. She smiled and shook her head.
‘Perhaps after you’re officially engaged,’ she said gently. ‘A necklace is too sophisticated, I think, for your intentions at present.’
Something dangerous and volatile sparked to life between them. He should leave well enough alone, but the devil in him was already awake and wanting his due. How would she handle it?
‘What are those intentions?’ Beldon asked in gravelly tones more appropriate for seduction than shopping. Truly he knew better than to stoke this ambiguous fire she roused in him.
‘You tell me. They’re your intentions.’ She studied him with sharp eyes, missing nothing of the innuendo, of the change in the atmosphere between them.
There it was. She’d called him out. This was his chance to declare himself. What a bold piece she was and yet she pulled off that boldness without seeming unladylike. Really, it was quite admirable.
Mr Brown returned with the second package. He handed it to Lilya and noted the necklace still dangling from Beldon’s hand. ‘Ah, you’ve made a choice, then? The necklace is very nice.’
Beldon skewered the smaller man with an imperial stare, his voice cold. ‘Very nice, but very wrong for my cause,’ he corrected. ‘A decent gentleman would not give such a piece to his bride.’
The man had the good grace to colour at the implication: he’d been caught toadying.
‘Perhaps something in pink?’ Lilya offered. It was meant to be a helpful suggestion, but Beldon saw the challenge behind it. Pink could only be for one person. But Lilya was right and Beldon saw no reason to disagree. A pink gem would be lovely and meaningful to Lady Eleanor. As long as they didn’t say Lady Eleanor’s name out loud, it wasn’t as if he was outright asking one woman to help him select jewellery for another.
Trays were taken away and others brought out from behind the locked cabinet, far more than he’d expected. He’d not anticipated such a variety. In tacit agreement, he and Lilya sat back down on the bench.
‘A ring, then?’ Beldon randomly chose one of the dozens of rings on display, suddenly less interested in what had brought him here in the first place and more interested in Lilya’s response. He had jewels aplenty in the Pendennys vault. He would save those for a wedding gift, or an anniversary gift. The Pendennys emeralds were heavy pieces. Every time he thought of Lady Eleanor in them, he imagined her bent over from the weight of them. They were not jewels for a girl.
Lilya laughed sweetly and took pity on him. ‘A bracelet or a pin would be best.’ She motioned to the jeweller. ‘You can put away all the trays but these three here.’
‘I can see that I would have made a disaster of this on my own.’ He should not have said that. It was entirely wrong, entirely too familiar. He was joking with her as if they were friends when everyone knew a man could not be friends with a lady. He could feel his jaw tightening. It was too easy to be charmed by Lilya—by her graceful gestures, by the subtle way she’d taken control of the situation.
She threw him a sidelong glance as if to say she doubted that, that she was on to his game of provoking her. Her eyes danced with an implicit understanding of their secret game. She turned back to study the trays. ‘This coral-and-pearl piece would be perfect.’
It was indeed quite the perfect piece: a cameo habille, a jewel within a jewel. Beldon could find no quarrel with it. He would have selected it himself, left to his own devices. In spite of the game he played with Lilya, he did know a thing or two about jewellery. The cameo was of angelskin coral in the palest shades of pink, a tiny stone of pink jasper set on the cameo’s bosom giving it the jewel within a jewel. Eleanor would be able to wear it pinned to a gown.
Lilya leaned forwards and spoke quietly, a finger tracing the fine lines of the cameo. ‘What better way to tell her of your feelings than that you view her as your very own jewel within a jewel, a woman you love as much for her beauty on the outside as her beauty on the inside?’
The sentiment surprised him. Is that what women saw in jewellery? No wonder they coveted it. Did men have any idea what secret messages they were sending? More importantly, is that what he meant by giving Lady Eleanor this gift? Admittedly, Lilya’s words had something of a shocking effect on him. The sentiment she expressed was noble and fine. But could he give Lady Eleanor such a gift, knowing the message behind it to be a lie? He hoped such sentiment would be true eventually. As of today, it was not. He had no idea if Lady Eleanor was a lovely person on the inside.She was precisely what she’d been bred to be, a blank slate for her husband to write on. A blanker slate, Beldon could not imagine. He simply didn’t know. He knew only that she fit his criteria. He stilled for a moment, a horrible thought coming to him.
What if your criteria are wrong? What if you need more? The thought was practically blasphemous. He should not even give credence to it. But there’d been a lot already today he should not have done, starting with allowing Lilya to sit down beside him. He’d played with fire and now he was getting burned, absolutely and thoroughly scorched.
‘What is it? You look pale all of a sudden.’ Lilya unconsciously placed a hand on his arm, her face full of concern within the frame of her bonnet. ‘I hope you’re not coming down with a spring cold. Philippa won’t forgive you if you get sick before Val’s Rose Gala. She’s spent days planning it to celebrate his new hybrid.’
Stubbornly, Beldon pushed the traitorous idea aside. There was no room for doubt. He stood up, shaking off Lilya’s hand. ‘I’m quite fine. The cameo is perfect. Mr Brown, I would like to have it wrapped up so I may take it right away.’
He must forgo the pleasure of such doubts. This moment of weakness was nonsense. More than one man had been the recipient of cold feet. It was part and parcel of the engagement ritual and the embracing of the unknown. He told himself it was actually nice to get cold feet. It reminded him of how important this decision was. It was worthy of being agonised over. If it was something that could be hastily done, everyone would do it.
The jeweller returned with the cameo in a small blue velvet box tied prettily with a pale blue ribbon. ‘I’ve done it up neatly for you, my lord. The ladies put as much store in the wrapping as they do what’s actually inside the box.’ He chuckled.
Beldon tucked the box into his coat pocket. The package was small enough not to draw attention. No one would even know he had it with him. He could carry it with him discreetly and wait for the right moment. Or, came the errant thought, he could forget about it, letting it lie unclaimed in a pocket for, oh, say ages, and no one would be the wiser.
‘Ahem, my lord, if I may be so bold, I happened to notice this piece in the back. We haven’t displayed it yet. I just acquired it a few days ago from a gem dealer. Since you were looking for something pink, I wanted to show it to you—it’s a bracelet of silver and tourmaline.’
Lilya gasped, enchanted at the sight of it. ‘It’s beautiful.’
Encouraged, the jeweller went on, ‘It is straight from Burma and the mines of Mynnamar. If I might, Miss Stefanov?’ The jeweller deftly draped the bracelet about her wrist, but struggled with the clasp.
‘Here, allow me,’ Beldon volunteered unthinkingly. He reached out, gently capturing her wrist, and fastened the bracelet, but not without marveling at the feel of her fine, narrow bones beneath her glove. Her wrist was as delicate and slender as the bracelet itself—a perfect match that sent a jolt of unmistakable desire straight to his male core. Beldon stepped back, hoping to distance himself.
Lilya held up her wrist, the deep shades of the tourmaline catching the light. The bracelet slid towards her elbow. ‘It’s a little big.’
‘Links can be removed easily if it’s too large,’ Mr Brown put in quickly, no doubt smelling another sale in the air, or perhaps something else Beldon did not care to give name to. Beldon did not care for the suggestion Mr Brown intimated, that somehow he’d be purchasing jewellery also for Lilya. The assumption carried with it an inappropriate implication about the nature of their relationship.
‘It’s a beautiful piece, sir, thank you for sharing it. But I will pass. The bracelet is not in my intended’s style.’ Beldon was careful to emphasise the ‘my intended’ part. It wasn’t a lie. The bracelet was entirely wrong. It was too elegant, too subtle, too rich in colour, for an English rose like Lady Eleanor. The piece needed someone with dark hair and slightly foreign looks to be carried off. The piece needed someone like Lilya. Beldon could not imagine the bracelet on another’s wrist after seeing it on hers and that was dangerous ground indeed. It was time to go.
‘I am ready for sustenance, how about you?’ Beldon said, betraying none of the comparisons dominating his mind at the moment. He helped Lilya with the bracelet clasp and returned it to the jeweller. ‘May I interest you in a stop at Fortnum and Mason’s before we head home?’
Ah, he’d chosen wisely, Beldon thought twenty minutes later. Tea was precisely the thing he needed to restore his balance. He could not recall the last time he’d enjoyed sitting down to flavoured hot water and little sandwiches so much. If he’d been alone, he would have taken refreshment at his club over on St James’s. The meal would have been more substantial, but the company less so.
‘You knew more about jewels than I realised. Your taste was impeccable,’ Beldon complimented as they finished their second pot. It was nearly time to go. He could not justify lingering any longer.
Lilya blushed becomingly, but her eyes darkened and Beldon sensed she was holding an internal debate with herself. Fine. He would wait. At last, aware that he wasn’t going to fill the silence until she spoke, she said, ‘My family dealt in jewels in Negush and, before that, my grandfather was a jeweller to the sultan in Constantinople.’
The admission stunned him into silence. She said it as naturally as if she’d said, ‘My family own dairy cows in Herefordshire’.
‘I never knew’ was all he could manage. Maybe he’d have to call for a third pot of tea after all. One didn’t just get up from the table and leave a comment like that unexplored.
‘You don’t talk of your life very much and yet I think your life has been full of fascinating experiences. Certainly, very different experiences than what one has here.’ Beldon held her eyes across the table, wanting her to see the sincerity in his own, wanting to see the veils lift from hers. The more he knew her, the more mysterious she became. There were depths here. ‘I would like to hear about them. You don’t have to forget about them simply because you’re in England now.’
‘It is all in the past and sometimes forgetting can be better than remembering.’
But surely not better than never knowing. Beldon would not be put off. ‘Jewels are not a poor man’s trade. What was your father to the empire?’ He gave in to the inevitable and signalled for another pot of tea.
Then, just as she had in the jewellery store when he’d deliberately selected the wrong piece, Lilya smiled and took pity on him. In soft tones of confidentiality she said, ‘We were hospodars. Do you know the word?’ Beldon shook his head. Her next words took his breath away altogether. ‘We were princes.’
