Her long auburn curls were swept into an elegant coiffure. In his mind’s eye, he pictured himself removing each pin, until those lush locks cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. He imagined those wavy tendrils splayed over a pillow in his bed, and he blinked to clear his head.
The slightest hint of color brightened her cheeks, bringing her high cheekbones into focus. A black-and-emerald choker at her throat drew his eye to the slender column and silken skin. Ah, what he would give to trace that delicate slope with his mouth, drinking in the taste and subtle scent of her and relishing her throaty, pleasure-filled whimpers.
She smiled, greeting each of the guests in turn, until a man he recognized as Raymond Stockwell approached her. Her mouth thinned, so subtly a man who did not know her as he did would not have noticed. She smiled then, the slight curve of her lips only enhancing her beauty.
As he studied Alex’s every move, a petite honey-haired blonde approached him. Her direct gaze and open smile took him by surprise.
She bypassed him, greeting the bore who’d finally ceased his rambling about Stockwell’s play. “It’s so good to see you, Sir Chester. You are looking well.”
“As are you, my dear…I take it your most recent expedition was a success.”
“Quite so,” she replied, her tone enthusiastic yet soft. “Of course, my husband has been quite insufferable since being knighted. I dare say the man expects me to address him as Sir Gavin. Suffice it to say he has been utterly disappointed in that regard.”
Sir Gavin.Blast it, this was Gavin Stanwyck’s bride, the former Sophie Atherton. Alex had spoken of the ex-journalist who now served as a covert agent in Her Majesty’s service. How bloody ironic that his greatest rival had wed a beauty, been knighted by the queen, and stumbled upon a major find within the course of one year. Lucky bastard.
Lucky? As he studied Sophie Stanwyck’s pretty, rounded face and large, dark eyes, he pondered the word. Had Stanwyck enjoyed good fortune? Or had the man mustered the courage to recognize the true treasure he had found and speak his vows—rather than settling for a life of regret and enduring a hunger he could never entirely sate?
Sir Chester glanced his way. “Lady Stanwyck, please allow me to introduce Lord Marlsbrook.”
When they’d finished the formalities, Lady Stanwyck smiled, even as she narrowed her dark eyes in seeming assessment. “Lord Marlsbrook, it is indeed a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
As they continued to exchange pleasantries, Gavin Stanwyck approached. How much did the arrogant Egyptologist know of Sophie’s purpose at the event?
“Marlsbrook, I hadn’t expected to find you here.” Dry derision colored Stanwyck’s tone. “I rather thought you’d be off scavenging some tomb or other.”
Benedict’s hand clenched and unclenched at his side. The man was still a pompous arse, knighthood be damned. Given his family’s wealth, he’d never had to concern himself with obtaining funds for his expeditions or honoring his obligations. Stanwyck enjoyed the luxury of hunting relics for the excitement of the find, rather than pursuing them as a means to an end.
“I’m plotting my next raid as we speak.” He refused to dignify the man’s cut with an emotion-driven response.
Stanwyck shot Sir Chester a look. A sly smile curved his mouth. “Isn’t that your wife…over there, with Sir Geoffrey Nesbitt? I’ve heard tales—rumor has it the man is an outrageous lecher. But that doesn’t trouble you in the least now, does it?”
“Bloody hell,” Sir Chester muttered. He turned toward the beauty he’d taken as his fifth wife. She stood chatting with a decrepit but obscenely wealthy industrialist, appearing quite taken with the ruddy-faced bloke’s conversation, and perhaps, his fortune.
Stanwyck leaned in closer and lowered his voice. “She is a lovely woman. It would be a shame if anyone got the wrong idea about her and Nesbitt.”
“I do believe it’s high time I give Sir Geoffrey my regards,” Sir Chester said as he shuffled off. “You have my thanks, Stanwyck.”
Stanwyck’s cagy smile transformed to a bland expression that revealed nothing of his thoughts. “I hear you’re in a bit of a fix, Marlsbrook.”
Benedict gave a bland shrug. “I cannot say I would describe the situation as such.”
Stanwyck regarded him with a bored expression. “I am well aware of my wife’s reasons for attending this dull, high-browed torment. It seems we have a mutual interest—protecting Alexandra.”
“Good enough,” Benedict responded. “I will be in your debt if you work to ensure Miss Quinn’s safety.”
“What in damnation have you gotten yourself involved with this time?”
“If I knew the answer to that question, we would not be having this conversation.”
“True enough,” Stanwyck said with a nod. “Damnable shame about Professor Stockwell.”
“He was a good man,” Benedict said, keeping his voice even.
“I held him in great esteem,” Stanwyck said.
“His son, Raymond, is talking with Alexandra,” Sophie said. “I will endeavor to become better acquainted.”
Stanwyck reached for her, pulling her close. He bent close and whispered something in her ear that brought a rosy blush to her cheeks, then added, “Do be careful, love.”
