The Blue Diamond by Joan Smith Read Free Book Online Page B

French woman knew him by name, but if she did, it would not be totally incredible that Lord Moncrief reveal an interest in it. He had for some years been an ardent collector, whose advice was sought not only by his friends and relatives, but frequently by that greatest of all collectors, the Prince Regent.
    Before many minutes, there was a light flurry of footsteps in the hall beyond, and a young woman appeared in the archway. He blinked involuntarily at the apparition, and forgot, for a full sixty seconds, to rise to his feet to greet her. He had been expecting a common, somewhat vulgar female, along the lines of an adventuress. He suspected her to be pretty and young, due perhaps to Googie’s comment that Palgrave was interested in her. He had not expected her to be quite so young, nor half so beautiful.
    She was petite, with a pale heart-shaped face and large, gray eyes. Her hair was black as a crow’s wing, and worn pulled severely back in a Grecian knot. It grew in a well-defined widow’s peak on her forehead, giving a strange impression of a nun’s habit. Perhaps this association was caused by her austere black gown, with only a white fichu at the neck to lighten the ascetic plainness of her gown. Had she been older, a different sort of woman, one might have accused her of intentional drama in her choice of gown. Those clear gray eyes regarding him rather shyly held no suggestion of such wily arts.
    She curtsied, then entered the room hesitantly. “You wish to see me, milord?” she asked. Her voice was timid, soft—a young girl’s voice. She spoke in good English, with enough accent to delight the ear. There was nothing so seductive, he thought, as a little layer of French accent in a lady’s voice.
    Moncrief found his mind reassessing her, in that fraction of a moment that he watched her, while she gazed at him, her head slightly cocked at an angle. The woman—girl really—did not look like a dealer in stolen gems. It was still possible she was being used as an instrument, an innocent tool of someone else. He would stick to his original plan. He introduced himself, explained the interest he had felt at seeing Palgrave’s ruby, and finally began hinting whether she might have additional pieces for sale.
    “Alas, non , milord,” she said, a little sadly. “No one was more shocked than myself to discover my bauble was a real ruby. It has made all the difference in my life, the fortune from it. Now I shall be able to live in dignity, hopefully here in Austria, or perhaps England. It has long been a dream of mine to go to your so beautiful Angleterre. My companion too, Madame Blanchard, has often expressed the wish.”
    “Why would you wish to leave your home—France?” he asked, and discovered with a jolt of dismay that he was neither making small talk nor fishing for information. He was genuinely interested to hear her answer—to hear all about her.
    “France is no longer a compatible place for me. My father was a colonel under Napoleon Bonaparte. I am loyal still to the Emperor. If a Bourbon is replaced on the throne of France, as you anglais plan, I shall never return to my country. My father, brother and—other loved ones gave their life for the cause. I am only a woman—little help to the Emperor, but I will show my disgust by speaking openly against the hated Bourbon regime. That cannot be done in France. I am not alone in my feelings, milord. The Congress overestimates Louis’s popularity. If Napoleon should come marching back, the King would not last a week. No, not a day.” Her voice rose and resonated with fervor as she spoke.
    “We realize Louis’s shortcomings. He is considered as only a poor alternative. About Napoleon we shall never agree, I fear, but that is not why I am here. I am curious to learn where you got the star ruby, and whether you might have access to other pieces from the same collection.”
    “It was given to me by a friend,” she answered readily. “Fiancé