Page 31 of A Scandal at Stonecliffe

When he arrived at Verity’s that evening to escort her to a musicale at Mrs. Hargrove’s house, such thoughts—indeed any thoughts—flew out of his head. She came down the stairs toward him, a vision in her gauzy gown of sea-foam green. The wide neckline was low, and the supposedly concealing lace that bordered it only made the swell of her breasts more seductive. Her hair was pinned up in a style many women wore, but somehow on Verity it was far more entrancing. The knowing little smile that played at her lips added to the rush of hunger that swept through Nathan.

It was clear she knew the effect it would have on him. Which meant she had intended to cause that effect. Which meant...what? Nathan really wished he knew whether the teasing look in her eyes was an invitation or merely Verity having fun at his expense.

The musicale they attended was uninteresting, as such entertainments invariably were. Nathan would have preferred not to have to listen to the five Hargrove daughters’ musical talents—or lack thereof—but it had been the only invitation he’d found for this evening. However, Verity enlivened it with whispered comments behind her fan, which Nathan returned in full measure, until the matron behind him rapped him sharply on the shoulder and advised him to be quiet. After that Verity leaned over closer to whisper her remarks to him, and her breath brushed Nathan’s ear and neck, sending frissons of sensations through him.

As soon as the hosts’ daughters had finished their recital, Nathan and Verity excused themselves from the assembly room.

“Thank God, you had that ‘headache’ come on,” Nathan laughed. “I’m not sure what I could have said to Violette’s parents about her personal interpretation of what can only loosely be described as a melody.”

Though there was a heavy mist hanging in the air outside when they emerged, Nathan and Verity decided to walk back to Verity’s house. It wasn’t far, and it was a pleasant walk. The evening air was soft and warm, and the enveloping fog made it seem as if they were in a place apart from the rest of the world. Even Verity was content to merely stroll along, her hand tucked in his arm.

“I discovered nothing today,” she said.

“I’m not sure searching inns is a good use of our time,” Nathan agreed. “Maybe we should redirect our efforts.”

“You’re right,” Verity said.

He sucked in a breath of exaggerated surprise. “You agree with me? Has the world tilted on its axis?”

For answer, she jabbed a finger into his ribs. “Hush. I always agree with you when you’re right.”

“You mean, when I think the same thing you do.”

“Exactly.” She flashed him a smile. “I have business scheduled tomorrow morning. A client is donating a certain ring to the British Museum, and she wants protection while she carries it. It’s some ancient thing her husband dug up on their land, but apparently she’s decided that it is bad luck to possess it.”

“So she’s giving the bad luck to the museum?”

Verity laughed. “Hopefully not.”

They crossed a street, and suddenly two figures burst out of the fog. One was tall and thin, the other short and square, and they would have looked comical together if they had not been wearing hats pulled down low and scarves wrapped around the bottom halves of their faces like highwaymen. They took Nathan and Verity so much by surprise that before they could react, the short man knocked Nathan to the pavement, and the tall thin one grabbed Verity from behind, wrapping his arm around her waist and pinning her arms to her sides.

She twisted and kicked back with her heels and Nathan sprang up to go to her aid, but the man whipped out a wicked-looking knife and laid it against Verity’s throat. Verity went still, and Nathan halted. The other man moved close to Nathan, taking his arm, but it was clear the threat to Verity was all that was needed to stop him.

The man holding Verity growled, “Giv’m to me.”

“What?” Nathan looked at him blankly.

“Bleedin’ ’ell.” The robber raised his voice. “Are ye a bloomin’ idiot? Tell me or I’ll cut ’er throat.”

A thin red line formed across Verity’s throat as the man pressed the knife against her a little. Verity was staring daggers. Nathan was certain she wanted him to refuse, but he decided to take a different tack.

“No, don’t!” Nathan’s voice rose in agitation, and he waved his hands helplessly. “I’ll give you whatever you want! Just don’t hurt her! Please, she is so dear to me...such a delicate flower. You must not harm her!” He stepped forward, wringing his hands.

Verity sent him a deadly look, but she began to cry, great tears rolling down her cheeks. “Please, sir, please, don’t hurt me. Give him your money, darling.” Her words ended in a high wail.

“Shut yer bonebox, woman!” Verity’s captor barked.

“Tell me.” The man took his hand from Nathan’s arm and jabbed him in the ribs. “Go on.”

“Yes, of course, of course. Anything. I’ll give you anything.” Nathan made a show of searching the pockets inside his coat. “Oh, dear, did I not bring it? I couldn’t have left my coin purse at home.”

At that, Verity began to wail again, her voice so high and fraught with tears she was unintelligible.

“Stop that!” The ruffian’s arm loosened as he pulled away to escape her cries. “Where the hell—”

“Aha!” Nathan pulled out a coin purse with a flourish. “Here. Take it all. Take everything!” He started forward, opening the pouch and holding it out in his palm. He stumbled, and the coins tumbled out, rolling about on the ground. Nathan crouched down, picking up coins and moving yet closer. The other thief went down on his knees beside him, also grabbing at the coins.

“What the bleedin’—get up, Shoe, ye daft—” The man gestured at his comrade with his knife.