One Forbidden Evening (Zebra Historical Romance) Page 30

  “No, I understand, but I do not like to think of Cybelline as a partner in a marriage of convenience. She should know joy. Is it wrong for me to want that for her?”

  “Of course not, but it’s what she wants for herself that will matter.” Lily found his hand and threaded her fingers through his. “We shall see what that is, I suppose, when she arrives.” She picked up the letter with her free hand and gave it a last look. “Now, please tell me what business Cybelline can possibly have with Sir Richard Settle that she must delay her trip until the end of the month?”

  Cybelline invited Sir Richard to sit as she poured tea. The former don at Cambridge chose the wing chair opposite hers. She noticed that he sat rather more correctly than other men of her acquaintance. He did not show the least inclination to stretch his legs or push himself forward in a casual recline. His manner was invariably correct and unfailingly courteous, and it hinted at a superiority of self that never failed to set Cybelline’s teeth on edge.

  The tightness in her jaw was not helped by the notion that he seemed to expect that his extensive accomplishments allowed him to indulge in a certain arrogance of expression. Nicholas had never been entirely in accord with her assessment of Sir Richard, though he was moved to say once that the professor was impatient with anyone who could not be persuaded to agree with him. Cybelline thought that made Sir Richard unattractively narrow-minded, but Nicholas said it meant only that he did not suffer fools.

  When she’d asked if she was such a fool, Nicholas had merely laughed and called her a nuncheon for thinking it. She supposed that answered her question.

  As unattractive as Cybelline found Sir Richard’s narrow-minded scholarship, she had never denied to herself that he was an attractive man. As he was of an age with Lady Rivendale, Cybelline had wondered from time to time if her aunt would consider him an acceptable suitor. Along with his shock of thick brown hair and equally dark eyes, he possessed even features that were shaped by a fine hand. Although she was certain Sir Richard was handsome enough for Aunt Georgia’s tastes, she finally decided his manner might be off-putting to her as well. When she raised this with Nicholas, he’d been in complete agreement.

  Sir Richard thanked her politely when she passed him a cup of tea, but he refused the tiny sandwiches she’d had Mrs. Minty prepare. Cybelline set the plate back on the table between them.

  “I am very glad you were able to come so far to discuss this matter with me,” she said. “It has been a terrible inconvenience for you, I’m afraid, and I would have you know how much it is appreciated.”

  “It is inconvenient, as you say, but what is one to do?”

  “Your accommodations are satisfactory, I hope.”

  “Satisfactory, yes. The room faces east, I believe, and will receive the morning sun.”

  “That’s right.”

  He sighed. “No matter. I shall draw the bed curtains.”

  “I can have you put in another bedchamber if you like.” She thought of Ferrin’s windowless workroom and wondered if it might not suit.

  “No. I shall not stay above a few days. Long enough to conduct our business and rest for the return to London. I will stop in Cambridgeshire on my journey home, so that is something to look forward to.”

  Cybelline nodded graciously, but she was still contemplating the workroom as a bedchamber. She watched Sir Richard cast his eyes about the room as though searching for something on which he might comment favorably. Apparently finding nothing, he remained silent and sipped his tea.

  “I was not certain you received my initial inquiry,” she said, “your reply was so long in coming.”

  “I had other matters to occupy me.”

  “I understand.” She could hear boredom edging his tone. His features, too, were drawn in a weary mien. “I did not mean to imply that you had been remiss or uninterested.” Cybelline managed to imply both those things simply by raising them. She experienced a small measure of satisfaction as Sir Richard uncrossed his legs, then crossed them again, this time to the other side. It is what passed for discomfort, and she was unashamed of provoking it. “You have expressed interest in my late husband’s collection,” she said. “As I mentioned in my first correspondence, I am desirous of parting with some of the pieces.”

  “You do not want to give them to the Royal Society?”

  “You are welcome to make a gift of them if you wish. You are a member, are you not?”

  “Of course.”

  “My husband was not.”

  “Your husband was a barrister, not a man of science.”

  “He was both,” she said, “but we can agree to disagree.”

  “Have you considered Nicholas’s wishes?”

  “I have. He admired you and considered it an honor that you assisted him in his study. I cannot think of another living gentleman that he respected more. He did not speak of judges on the high court with such reverence, and my husband loved the law. I believe he would want you to have them.”

  “At a price.”

  Cybelline did not think she mistook the mockery in his tone, but she ignored it. “That is my decision. I would see that Anna is well provided for. I know my husband wanted that.”

  “I’m sure.” Sir Richard took another sip of tea. “Let us discuss the pieces, then. I am familiar with the ones you listed in your letter. The Iceni shield is of particular interest.”

  “It was a favorite piece.”

  “Nicholas almost gave it to the museum, is that right?”

  She nodded. “He parted with one of lesser quality but could not bring himself to turn over the one I am offering you. I think it had as much to do with the discovery of the shield as with the condition of the piece itself.”

  “Do you know how he discovered it?”

  “He was traipsing through a ruin in Norfolk and struck his toe on it.” She smiled faintly, recalling Nicholas’s account. “He told me he tripped and stumbled about before crashing to his knees. There were stones all around, and he thought that’s what he’d caught with his boot. You know from your long association that it was like him to be certain of a thing before he moved on. He went back to see what had caused his fall and found one small sliver of the shield rising above the ground like a fingernail moon.”

  Sir Richard set his empty cup on the table.

  “Will you have more?” asked Cybelline.

  “No, thank you.” He took a sandwich instead. “There were several pieces you did not mention. The gold torc, for instance. You do not wish to sell it?”

  “No.”

  “And the bracelets?”

  “No. Nicholas gave them to me.”

  “I see. So you are willing to part with what was his but not what is yours.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “And the spear?”

  “I haven’t decided. You may make an offer, but I do not know if I wish to sell it.”

  “Then the spear is in your possession again?”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes narrowed faintly. “You are not surprised that I know you didn’t have it for a time.”

  “No. Lord Ferrin told me that he went to you to learn about it. That hardly surprises, given your expertise in these artifacts. He told me he was your student at Cambridge.” Cybelline watched Sir Richard smile with what appeared to be genuine pleasure. It deepened the faint creases at the corners of his eyes and mouth, yet stripped away a decade from his age. She could not help staring at him, fascinated by the change.

  “Ferrin was not my student,” he said. “He was everyone’s. Do you know him well?”

  “I know his reputation,” Cybelline said.

  “Then you might not credit that he was a student such as few of us have had the privilege to tutor. He has failed to realize his potential, but his intellect remains quite fierce, I believe. It is his interests that have changed.”

  Cybelline felt herself come under Sir Richard’s more thoughtful regard. She was made vaguely uncomfortable by it.

&nb
sp; “How did Ferrin come to have the spear in his possession?”

  “He didn’t tell you?”

  “I wouldn’t ask otherwise, would I?”

  “I carried it to a masquerade at his home and left it behind.” Telling the truth had certain rewards, she realized. Sir Richard’s supercilious expression was not in evidence when he was choking on his sandwich. She poured a second cup of tea for him. “Since I was in costume, his lordship did not know to whom the spear belonged.”

  “But you did not claim it immediately.”

  “No. I was preparing to leave London. The spear was not uppermost on my mind, though I can appreciate if you think it should have been. It was returned to me after I arrived in Penwyckham.”

  “It is here, then?”

  “No. I wasn’t clear, was I? I have it from his lordship that it was returned to my London home.”

  “Has he made an offer for it?”

  “No. I had not considered that he might. Does he collect artifacts?”

  “As a dilettante only. It is a minor collection. We discussed it when he brought the spear for me to examine.”

  “I hadn’t realized.” That was another truth. “Do you think he would be interested in the spear?”

  “If he has not already said as much, then I doubt it.”

  Cybelline nodded. “It’s not important. As I said, I am not certain I want to part with it.”

  “I understand. I trust you will permit me to reconsider what offer I might make for the pieces. I’d hoped you would entertain adding the torc and the bracelets. As this is not the case, I will require this evening to review my figures. Regardless, my offer is dependent upon a final appraisal of the items.”

  “Of course. I believe I wrote that you were welcome to look at them before you set out for Penwyckham. I instructed my housekeeper to make the pieces available to you.”

  “It is the appraisal that I make before taking them into my possession that matters. You must not take offense, Mrs. Caldwell. I am always so careful. I have discovered there is considerable fraud in the acquisition of artifacts and relics.”

  “I take no offense,” she said coolly. “My husband shared your opinion.”

  “Naturally.”

  Cybelline rose. “Supper is at seven. I hope you will dine with me, but I will understand if you wish to retire to your room and remain there.”

  Sir Richard came to his feet also. “I shall look forward to dining with you, Mrs. Caldwell, but I will retire to my room until then.”

  It was after midnight when Cybelline awoke and knew with certainty that she was no longer alone. “Anna?” It would not be the first time her daughter had slipped out of the nursery and come looking for her. Nanny Baker slept too soundly to deter her. “Anna? Is it you?”

  Cybelline pushed herself upright as a dark figure much too substantial to be her daughter passed in front of the doorway to her sitting room. “Sir Richard?”

  “No, but shall I ask him to attend you?”

  Cybelline snatched a pillow from behind her back and threw it at Ferrin. Since it didn’t hit the floor and he didn’t give up any sound of distress, she imagined he’d caught the thing easily. “What are you doing here?”

  “Satisfying my curiosity.” He pitched the pillow back at her. The firelight was sufficient for him to find a chair with no difficulty. He picked it up and moved it to Cybelline’s bedside, then he lighted a candle, dropped a kiss on Cybelline’s slightly open mouth, and sat down. Tipping the chair back on its two rear legs, he set his feet against the bed rail.

  “Your curiosity will kill you.”

  “That’s cats.”

  Cybelline tucked the pillow behind the small of her back and made herself comfortable. “I suppose you want to know the particulars of my conversation with Sir Richard.”

  “Unless you are prepared to explain the particulars of electrodynamics.” He held up his hands, surrendering, when she looked as if she was prepared to upend his chair. “Did Sir Richard make an offer?”

  “Not yet. He was disappointed that I was not willing to sell him either the torc or the bracelets. He is also interested in the spear, I think.”

  Ferrin did not comment on this last, though his eyebrows lifted a fraction. “I wish I might have joined you.”

  “I should have allowed you to do so just for the pleasure of listening to you explain how you came to be Mr. Wellsley. You could not hope to keep it from him, not with Mrs. Henley most assuredly announcing you as such.”

  “There is that.” He folded his arms in front of him. “Are you quite certain you want to sell the pieces, Cybelline?”

  “Yes. I considered it long before I left London, but I wasn’t ready. I had to leave them behind to appreciate what a burden they had become. The torc and bracelets will be Anna’s someday, and with what the other pieces bring I will establish a trust for her.”

  “Do you think I won’t provide for Anna?”

  “No, I know you will, but Nicholas also provided for her, and she should know that. It will be important to her.”

  “Your parents provided for you?”

  She frowned, but her features cleared as she understood what prompted his question. “You are referring to Nicholas’s letter, the one in which he wrote that my parents abandoned me. It’s not true. They were killed in a fire that destroyed the inn where they were passing the night. They were on their way to visit Sherry at Eton. I grieved for them, but I never felt abandoned. Aunt Georgia made certain I didn’t, and yes, they provided for me.”

  Cybelline drew up her knees and hugged them. Her features were set thoughtfully. “Nicholas spoke very little of his own parents. He was raised by his grandfather, and he died shortly after we were married. It had not occurred to me before, but perhaps he was thinking more of himself than he was of me.”

  Ferrin had wondered the same. Nicholas Caldwell remained something of a puzzle to him, and Ferrin knew himself to be like a dog with a bone when he was presented with a puzzle. “How long will Sir Richard be staying?”

  “A few days only. He knows I am leaving for Granville Hall at week’s end. I believe he intends to visit his old haunts at Cambridge before returning to London.” Cybelline brushed the underside of her chin with her knuckles. “I have been wondering why he no longer teaches. Do you know?”

  Ferrin shook his head. “I have never inquired. It’s been more than three years, I think.”

  “Five years and six months.” When Ferrin looked surprised that she would know with such confidence, she said, “I recall it because it occurred only a few weeks after my betrothal. Nicholas had gone off to investigate a ruin in Essex and went to Cambridge afterward to show Sir Richard his find. That’s when he learned Sir Richard was no longer there. I remember Nicholas was distressed because he had no one to help him authenticate the artifact. He spent considerable time poring over old manuscripts, looking for information about the shield he found. It was his first attempt at doing the research all on his own, so he was particularly eager to get it right. Between his preparing for trial and learning about the shield, I do not think I saw Nicholas more than a few hours at a time for weeks.”

  Cybelline’s smile was a trifle sheepish. “So, when you wonder that I recall Sir Richard leaving his teaching post, it is because it proved to be a great inconvenience to me.”

  Ferrin grinned. “Is that not how we all remember as much as we do, by the impact disparate events have on our lives?”

  “It is good of you to paint it with that brush, but I cannot dismiss that selfishness and jealousy helped engrave it in my memory. I wonder if it is not the reason I have never held Sir Richard in the same esteem as did Nicholas. It is small of me, I know, but it was a relief to have our business concluded and supper done, and I was thankful to leave Sir Richard to his port and pipe and take myself off to the nursery.” She regarded Ferrin frankly. “Do you find his character in any way objectionable, my lord?”

  “I have spent little enough time in his comp
any outside the lecture hall. He is the foremost authority in his field here in Britain, and he studied relics in Egypt before all things Egyptian were made popular by Napoleon’s advance into the country. He writes frequently for the journals and has done extensive research on rock striations. I understand this assists him in identifying the probable age of certain artifacts.”

  “Those are impressive credentials. But what of his character?”

  “Apart from his regrettable tendency to employ his intellect to belittle others, you mean?”

  “Apart from that,” Cybelline said wryly.

  “Then I suppose he is no more or less objectionable than most people of my acquaintance. I confess, his character is not of particular interest to me. His achievements are.”

  “That was Nicholas’s argument also.” Cybelline sighed. “In the end, I suppose it is neither here nor there. I do not expect to have dealings with him again after this business is done. Do you think he will give me a fair price for the artifacts?”

  Ferrin’s mouth pulled to one side as he considered her question. “I have no reason to think he will not make an honorable offer, but I imagine much depends on what he believes you know about the value of the pieces.”

  “I know a good deal more than he is likely to credit. It is my opinion that he does not entirely respect a woman’s capacity for independent thought. If he were uneducated, his notions about women and their capabilities would be quaint, but because he is a man of learning, his views are dangerous.” Cybelline saw Ferrin’s lips twitch. “What? You do not agree?”

  “It is a thorny subject, and it is late.”

  “Coward.”

  “I freely admit it.”

  “Oh, very well.” Cybelline pulled her hair forward over her shoulder and began to loosely plait it. “He speaks very highly of you, you know. He says you were every professor’s favorite pupil.”