PART 1: THE PAST | Chapter 1

PART 1 – THE PAST

Chapter 1

1816 - St James, London

T he moon cast an ethereal glow upon the opulent room. At its heart stood a magnificent four-poster bed, its West Indian mahogany frame adorned with intricate lion head carvings supported crimson Harrateen hangings. Against the far wall, beneath a gilt-framed Venetian mirror, rested a fashionable Turkish divan, while Oriental carpets in deep crimson and midnight blues covered the floor—a testament to the wealth and sophisticated taste of the owner.

Upon the bed lay a man. He was handsome, his features chiseled and serene in sleep. Dark hair, slightly tousled, framed his face as his chest rose and fell with the steady rhythm of slumber. The linen sheets, dark and luxurious, were drawn to his waist, leaving his sculpted torso exposed. The scent of sandalwood and a hint of cognac lingered in the air.

In the shadows, hidden behind velvet drapes and barely more than a silhouette, Briana Walsh stilled. No one was supposed to be home. She had been told the residence was empty. Clearly, her instructions were wrong. Having adjusted her eyes to the dark, she held her breath, mesmerized by the beauty of the man she viewed, surrounded by the masculinity of the second-story bedchamber she had just breached. His features were relaxed, yet something sensual lingered in the upturn of his lip and the slight furrow of his brow. His eyes fluttered, and she wondered what he dreamed about.

She was startled when she heard movement and the bedchamber door open. Blast it all, what was happening? The place was busier than the markets at Covent Garden. Briana retreated further behind the curtains and held her breath as the whisper of silk and a cloying perfume rent the air. Another woman had entered, moving directly toward the bed.

Briana knew with a sinking feeling that it was an intimate gesture from one who had approached that bed many times before and knew the occupant would welcome it. Suddenly, she felt ill. Was this his wife? His mistress? But of course, men of his ilk were never in want of a lover. Yet why should she care? It was the way of them all.

She remained quiet, unable to tear her eyes away as the woman—scantily clad in only a cloak and what appeared to be a silk shift underneath—bent forward and placed a gentle kiss upon his eyelid. Briana felt an irrepressible urge to tear the woman away from touching him, to prevent her from tainting his skin with another's embrace. She watched as he slowly roused from his slumber with a frown. Then he shot forward with a vicious jolt, his body transforming from relaxed to taut within seconds. Briana barely contained her gasp of shock when the woman cried out as he slammed her body onto the bed and hovered above her, one hand at her throat, the other wielding a dagger.

"Victor! It's me," the woman squeaked. "It's me!"

Briana observed his entire posture remain taut, his muscles bulging; long gone was the serenity he had shown in sleep. This was a tiger unleashed and ready to strike a killing blow. She shuddered at the transformation and wondered what manner of man this was. Surely, he could not be of the ton. Briana dared not move lest she give away her position.

Her eyes, now accustomed to the dark, watched the woman on his bed struggling to free his hand from about her neck. Then his body instantly relaxed, releasing her before he exclaimed, "Damn it, Lydia! Have you taken leave of your senses, creeping into my house like this? I might have killed you!" Briana watched as he rose from the bed. The bedding draped across him fell to the floor as he stood and lit the lantern, flooding the room with light. Briana blushed profusely, seeing him in all his naked glory with a scowl on his face. If she thought his bare chest was something sculpted by the gods, the rest of him was pure perfection —heaven help her—every single part of him was large. He turned his back to the woman as he reached for a pair of trousers draped over a chair and donned them. Briana was treated to a muscular back, buttocks, and thighs that were as impressive as his front, though she glimpsed several scars running the length of his perfectly sculpted back. Had someone taken a blade to that beautiful skin?

Briana noted the pink tinge of embarrassment upon his lover's face. But still, she knew that this was just the beginning. They would most likely make peace, explain themselves, and then engage in a frenzied coupling. She decided it was time to leave and not be privy to the display. She had seen far too many amorous encounters in the bedchambers of nobility. It was too heartbreaking to ponder that someone as beautiful as he, was again out of reach. She wondered about his identity and why she had never seen him at routs or balls. Briana knew down to her bones this was the handsomest of men, but he was not for her—never for the likes of her. She needed to leave and backtrack out the side entrance. But she could not tear her eyes away from the exchange.

She remained deathly quiet and rooted to the spot.

"WHAT THE DEVIL WERE you thinking? I could have stabbed you! I thought you were an intruder!" Victor growled as he strode across the room, shirtless and barefoot. He snatched up Lydia's discarded cloak and bade her dress.

"But I have missed you, my darling. I wished only to surprise you."

"Well, you have certainly accomplished that!"

"I apologize, but I have not seen you in your usual haunts for some time, and I heard you had returned. I could not bear to wait another moment."

"I told you—I have been preoccupied."

"You have been busy before, yet still made time to see me. It has been weeks without word. Are we not friends, at the very least?"

"Of course we are, but I prefer my privacy."

"Is that why we meet only in your apartments at the Albany? Why have you never invited me here, to your lavish home? I may be a courtesan, but I remain a member of the ton and wealthy in my own right. You need not be embarrassed by an association between us!" Lydia, now wearing her cloak, sat upon the bed pouting.

Victor began to pace. "You know damned well I do not care for such things. I told you before—I simply do not entertain anyone here, lover or otherwise."

"But you never even allow me to sleep beside you."

"I prefer to sleep alone. There is no rhyme nor reason to it."

"Is there someone else?"

"No. There is no one. I told you our arrangement is exclusive, but I fear you desire more than I am prepared to give. I apologize if I have misled you, but perhaps we should part as friends."

"Just friends? But why can we not be more? You know I would make a suitable wife. I could manage your household, and we look perfect together."

He stiffened. "No, I am sorry, I cannot offer you more. Indeed, a part of me regrets that we ever took our relationship beyond friendship."

"Might I inquire as to why?"

"Because I am not in a frame of mind to settle down and marry, and I know that you are."

Lydia remained silent, her mouth stern.

Briana decided it was time for her departure; she had seen enough. She stepped backward, taking care not to make a sound on the creaking floorboard. Without further ado, she made her escape via an upstairs terrace door, then sprinted for the trees beyond the vast grounds.

VICTOR RUBBED HIS FOREHEAD and sighed. He was exhausted, and having Lydia creep into his private bed—a bed he never shared with anyone—was beyond the pale. He figured now was a good a time as any to begin the process of ending their arrangement. "While you are here, I have been meaning to present you with a gift. It is a simple token of friendship and perhaps an apology for the way things must be between us."

Lydia's eyes brightened. She had always loved gifts, her earlier pique surprisingly forgotten. "I admit I am severely disappointed, but what is it you have for me?"

Victor disappeared into his safe room and paused for a moment, sensing something amiss. Still, he opened the lock on the large iron chest and was relieved to see the velvet box still intact. He retrieved it, secured the safe, and strode back to Lydia, who remained by the bed.

“Here, I hope you like it."

Lydia's eyes widened. She loved jewelry and pretty adornments. He could see her hunger and excitement even in the dim lighting. Women were so predictable, he thought.

Victor walked to the window feeling restless, and stood staring out onto the quiet dark street. He gripped the sides of the window frame and scanned the surrounding area as if someone were watching him. That unsettling feeling remained.

Then he heard Lydia exclaim, "Is this some manner of joke?"

He whipped his head around. "I beg your pardon?"

"There is nothing but a card in here!" Lydia stood holding up an empty box and a card with writing upon it. He strode across the room and paled. There was supposed to be an exquisite French pearl parure set within, last he looked. He frowned, picked up the card, turned it over, and saw the words "Sincerely, 'X'."

The hairs on the back of his neck rose, for he felt violated in his own home. While he slept. "No, this cannot be. I have been robbed," he whispered.

"And I have been robbed! Someone has stolen my gift," Lydia said with a shrill cry. She appeared more distressed than he.

Victor seized his dagger and bid Lydia be silent.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"Stay here; the intruder may still be within the house."

"Do you think I am in danger?" she asked and scurried to hide behind the armchair in his bedchamber.

"I do not know but I shall investigate."

"Victor?" she hissed.

"Yes?" he whispered back as he stood in the doorway and surveyed the landing outside his room.

"If you fight this culprit, pray do not damage my gift."

"I shall attempt to deliver your jewels intact, Lydia. And should I happen to perish in the process, I shall endeavor not to stain them with blood," he snorted.

"That is most considerate of you, Victor. You are truly a gentleman."

Victor could not help but roll his eyes. In his heart, he knew at that moment it was over between them. He could never be with someone who cared so little for his safety.

He quickly checked the house and gave the all-clear, then returned to Lydia.

"I shall have another gift delivered to you. But at present, you must leave immediately while I secure the house."

Then he hustled Lydia down the stairs and into her awaiting carriage despite her protests and wish to remain. He searched the house again, this time finding the broken window latch. He cursed himself for giving the guards the night off when he arrived home unannounced.

Victor paused, wondering why X desired the pearl set his brother Sebastian had won in a card game. Disgruntled, he went about dressing so he might scout the local area for clues. Either way, he made a vow that no one stole from him and escaped unpunished.

brIANA LINGERED AND watched the house from a copse of trees. She felt a sense of relief when the man ushered his paramour out of the house. He did not even wait for the carriage to leave before he bounded back inside. Briana knew then her moonlight gentleman had discovered the highly prized La Peregrina Pearl was missing. What he did not know was it was now firmly tucked in the pocket of her breeches. She sensed it would only be a matter of time before the authorities were summoned and she could not afford to be caught at all, certainly not in the early stages of her elaborate plan. Her private investigations business would collapse if anything went awry now.

So, Briana stopped dawdling and high-tailed it out of the area lest she be discovered while lusting after a man who was so far above her station it was almost laughable. She doubted she would ever see him again.