Secret Life of a Scandalous Debutante Read online

  ‘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 we
ather 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, start ing 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.’