The Bluestocking and the Rake (Hearts in Hiding 2)

He answered for her. “The script is a code giving directions to a valuable treasure, is that not so, Miss Percy?”

She avoided his eye. “My father will not be able to claim it now.”

“He won’t, but we cannot allow someone undeserving to claim it.” He put the tablet on the table between them, caressing it with an elegant, long-fingered hand. “The man who kidnapped you is n

ot behind your father’s murder, though he may have dealt the mortal blow. Someone with a great knowledge of ancient antiquities has discovered how close you are to learning a secret that will make him richer than his wildest dreams.”

“That’s not how my father and I intended to profit from the discovery!” she burst out. “We were doing it in the name of England.”

“Very noble, of course, but of greatest importance right now is learning who your enemy might be. And even before that, proper sustenance. Eat, Miss Percy! You have suffered a terrible shock. And I suggest you bespeak a room here for the night. You cannot return home, you do know that, don’t you?”

“I have family—”

He cut her off and obediently Jemima picked up her knife and fork as he indicated the food before them. “Miss Percy, whoever is pursuing you, knows that is likely to be the first place you will seek sanctuary.” He sounded regretful as he attended to his own food. “Please, trust me when I say that your safety is my first consideration. I truly believe that until you know who your father’s killer is, it is positively dangerous to risk returning to your nearest and dearest. A risk not only to you, but to them.”

Deflated, Jemima pushed away her plate and sat back in her chair. Her father was dead, and now this man was telling her she couldn’t return to grieve with her relatives.

“I have a very dear elderly aunt, my father’s sister, who lives nearby. She brought me up and would gladly take me in. And then there is my cousin and her family. She has two of the sweetest little boys and a daughter, nearly grown.” Jemima smiled at the memory of James and Henry, and of their elder sister Lucy, who was going to be presented this year and who was so excited—unlike Jemima had ever been—at the prospect of being a debutante. “Do you really think harm may come to them? Should we not warn them?”

“You are fortunate, indeed, to enjoy such close and harmonious relations, but I think it unwise to make any contact just yet.”

“But they will be frantic about my safety.”

“I realize that, but I think you should consider their safety above the fears they will inevitably hold for you. Miss Percy, I have only just returned to this country. Soon I will be among friends who share your father’s passion, and who, I believe, will have their own ideas regarding the rivalries and jealousies motivating the perpetrator of your father’s terrible murder.” He leaned over to pour two glasses of claret, one of which he handed to Jemima. “I beg you to be patient, just for a few days, until we know the nature of the threat. Now,” he smiled kindly, “tell me about these beloved family members, if it will make you happier to dwell on the good fortune you enjoy, rather than the grim reality that has quite literally turned your life on its head.”

Jemima saw the value in enlarging upon his knowledge of her circumstances, though it was clear he was well-informed about her father.

“They all live in the nearby village about a mile from Papa’s cottage. Though I’ve read much about the world, I’ve never traveled beyond twenty miles of where I was born, and until I heard of the Rosetta Stone, hadn’t even wanted to go to London, though three years ago Papa suggested I might want to enjoy a taste of society as I’d just turned eighteen. I refused.”

Sir Richard raised his eyebrows. “You’re so content with the single life, Miss Percy? A beautiful woman like you, who could snap her fingers and enjoy the devotion of any number of discerning gentlemen?” He smiled at her gasp of outrage. “Forgive me, but the unreality of our present situation forces me speak frankly, including on matters that are beyond the bounds of propriety. I shouldn’t have made reference to your physical attributes when they are clearly so unimportant, given your other abilities and your contented rustication.”

Stiffly, Jemima replied, “I want to be recognised for my contribution to my father’s work rather than anything else.”

“You are a most unusual young woman.” Sir Richard had nearly finished what was on his plate while Jemima had barely touched hers. He rose. “Please, excuse me, Miss Percy, while I arrange accommodation for you—and whatever necessities I can manage to supply. It’s understandable that you’ve lost your appetite but you must fortify yourself.”

“For what lies ahead?” She shrugged. “I have no idea what lies ahead.”

From the doorway, he gave her another appraising look. “You are even more beautiful when you blush like that, Miss Percy.” As if realising his words may be misconstrued, he cleared his voice and dropped his gaze a moment. “I should not have said such a thing, given your obvious mistrust.” He met her uncertain look with a level stare. “But I believe in saying what I think and believe and now I’ll leave you with the sincere promise that I am a gentleman and was your father’s friend. I will do everything in my power to ensure your safety and I swear to you that you can rest assured of my honourable intentions. I will not the kind of man to take advantage of the desperate situation in which you find yourself.”

When he left the room, Jemima shifted uncomfortably upon her seat as she turned to look through the window. She was in the hands of a gentleman. She felt confident about that. A gentleman who’d saved her life, who understood her world, shared her love of antiquities, and who quite clearly admired her.

Jemima had always been exceedingly wary of the few eligible gentlemen to whom she’d ever been introduced, hating the way their eyes flared with interest, or the suggestiveness of their voices when they flattered her.

But Sir Richard was charming.

The fact that she could think that, and be moved by the pleasure his compliments brought her when her father was dead not even a few hours, made her burn with shame.

What kind of a sinner was she, really? How could she virtuously claim to be a blue-stocking interested in matters of importance when, in truth, her head could be turned so easily?

And when she learned that Sir Richard had arranged with John to elicit the help of a female servant to procure everything a lady in her position would need, her pleasure in being so well looked after by this kind and trustworthy man knew no bounds.

As she gazed at the tooth powder, night-rail, orange-flower water and clean chemise neatly laid out on her bed, Jemima was truly won over.

And although she didn’t see Sir Richard again that night, and although her sleep wasn’t without nightmares, at least when she awoke, beset by grief, she was comforted by the fact she had a champion in Sir Richard de Vere.

Chapter 2

Alone in her room, Jemima sat on the bed and plucked at the travel-stained cloak that covered the clothes she’d worn yesterday. Snow had fallen during the night, and the temperature was bitter. At least she’d fled wearing something serviceable.