My Lord Vampire
Page 20

But why would he go to such a bother?
To attempt to distract her from the suspicions that simmered relentlessly within her?
To bribe her goodwill?
Or simply to please her?
Her fingers lightly stroked the black velvet. “They are beautiful,” she murmured. “Was there a note?”
“Yes, my lady.” The housekeeper moved forward to offer her the heavy vellum that had been folded in half.
Opening the note, Simone swiftly read the boldly scrawled words.
Trust me.
There was nothing else, not even a signature, but Simone smiled wryly.
Whatever the reason for Gideon’s gift, there was no denying that he had pleased her. For the first time in her entire life she had received a gift that was chosen not to impress her with its expense or as merely an offering that was expected by society. Instead, Gideon had taken the time to think of what she truly would desire. The realization made the most ridiculous warmth flood through her heart.
“Daisy, will you have everything taken to the workroom ?” she requested in husky tones.
“Yes, my lady.”
Swiftly the maid set about scooping up the fabric and lace while the housekeeper stepped forward.
“Shall I serve tea?”
Simone gave a shake of her head. Her stomach had been twisted in knots since she had seen that picture last evening. The mere thought of food made her grimace.
“Perhaps later, thank you. I believe I shall read in the garden for an hour or so.”
Predictably the housekeeper frowned. She held the firm notion that civilized people remained indoors whenever possible. Only savages preferred to be in the fresh air and surrounded by nature.
“Mind you stay out of the sun. It is uncommonly warm out today.”
“Yes, I will,” Simone promised as she left the room and made her way to the back stairs that would lead to the garden.
It was warm, as the housekeeper had warned, and Simone chose a marble bench set beneath a large chestnut tree. Arranging her skirts she drew in a deep breath and attempted to relax her coiled nerves.
How long had it been since she had a decent night’s sleep?
Or had not devoted hours to dwelling upon Gideon and his secrets?
Or not felt as if she were being peered at from behind every bush or hedge?
Too long, she decided wryly.
She had thought to put such constant concerns behind her after reaching London. Oh, to be certain, there was always the vague dread that her past might come back to haunt her. Or that she would stumble and reveal the truth of her background. But such worries had always been simple to thrust from her thoughts while she was surrounded by the grandeur of her home, and the endless stream of nobles who desired to count themselves as her acquaintance.
Others could be easily deceived with enough money and sheer boldness, she had discovered.
Now, however, she could not so easily dismiss her concerns.
Perhaps she should leave London, she reluctantly told herself. To put Gideon and Mr. Soltern and whatever danger she might be in behind her. It would not be easy. She had built a new life here. But ...
“How could a lady be so troubled on such a lovely day?”
The lilting, heavily accented voice came without warning, and abruptly turning her head Simone watched in utter shock as an old, shabbily dressed gypsy woman moved through the roses and promptly settled herself on the bench. She knew the seemingly ancient woman. It was the same gypsy who had appeared in Devonshire and offered her the amulet. There was no mistaking the deeply wrinkled parchment of her countenance, the long gray hair that hung in tangles about her shoulders or the bright rags that had been sewn together to make her skirt. Certainly there was no mistaking the deep black eyes that seemed to see to her very soul.
“I ...” Simone gave a blank, disbelieving shake of her head. “Where did you come from?”
The old woman gave a lift of her hands. “From here and there.”
“I cannot believe this.” Too startled to be frightened by the strange appearance, Simone did not even think of calling out for help. “Did you follow me here?”
The woman shook her head as she reached out a gnarled hand to lightly touch the charm about Simone’s neck.
“I was called.”
“Called?”
“You are troubled.” The gypsy shrugged as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be summoned by a bit of gold. “I am here to ease your fears.”
Much to her surprise Simone felt a delicate warmth flow through her at the soft voice, easing the knots and soothing the frayed nerves. She even found the burning questions of how this woman had managed to arrive in her garden being dulled to mere curiosity.
“Very well,” she found herself agreeing. “What is this amulet?”
The older woman took a moment to consider her words. “It is an ancient symbol of power.”
“Ancient?” Simone recalled Mr. Soltern’s implication that the necklace was of historical value. “You mean it is Roman?”
There was a crackle of laughter. “Rather older than that.”
Older than Roman?
Simone realized that she was not certain she wished to discover just how much older it might be. Instead she turned her thoughts to her more pressing troubles.
“Why do others want it?”
“The power,” she said simply, her heavy ivory bracelets rattling as she settled her hands into her lap. “You have felt it. It is changing you. Making you ... more.”
“More what?”
“Of who you are.”
Simone frowned. More riddles were not what she desired.
“You are as impossible as Mr. Ravel,” she muttered.
Unexpectedly the narrow features were abruptly wreathed in a fond smile.
“Dear Gideon. You are leading him a sad chase, although I must say that I am rather enjoying his frustration. He can be insufferably arrogant when he is not being challenged.”
Simone regarded the woman in confusion. “You know Gideon?”
“But of course. He is here to protect you.”
Simone briefly closed her eyes, wondering if she had fallen asleep and was caught in some bizarre dream. When she opened her eyes, however, the disturbing gypsy remained, regarding her with those dark eyes.
“To protect me?” she at last muttered. “From Mr. Soltern?”
“Among others.” The old woman suddenly frowned. “Some that I know of and others who remain in the shadows.”
Simone shivered, her fingers gripping the folds of her skirt. It was bad enough to realize Mr. Soltern wished to harm her; she did not want to think of shadowy forms who might also pose a danger.
“Please, just tell me what is going on.”
“In good time.” The woman reached out to gently pat her clenched hand. “You will have your answers, I promise. But in the meantime, you must protect the Medallion. Do not remove it for any reason.”
Simone heaved an impatient sigh. “I thought you came to ease my troubles?”
“I came with the assurance that your danger will pass if you remain strong. And that great happiness will be yours if you find the courage to face the pain that haunts you.”
The words were far too vague to hold any true reassurances and Simone gave a shake of her head.
“There are a lot of ‘ifs’ in your words.”
The gypsy merely laughed at her sour tone. “The future is always difficult to read. This I can tell you, Gideon must earn your trust or you will fail.”
Gideon.
It all seemed to come back to the disturbing, tantalizing, mysterious man.
A man who harbored dark secrets.
“I do not know if that is possible,” she murmured.
“All things are possible, my dear,” the gypsy assured her as she rose to her feet and lightly stroked her hair. “Believe.”
With a last smile the woman turned and moved swiftly back through the roses until she abruptly vanished behind the high hedge.
“Wait.” Simone rose to her feet, but she knew she was too late. The woman moved with far more speed than seemed possible. Far too fast to be caught now. Giving a click of her tongue, Simone glared at the hedge. Just when she thought nothing could be worse than fearing that Gideon was something other than human, and having frightening men like Mr. Soltern stalking her, now strange gypsies began appearing out of thin air. Believe, she had said. Believe what? That she was going utterly mad? “Heaven help me.”
“Simone?”
Too late noting the odd prickle of awareness that had been washing over her skin, Simone turned to discover Gideon standing directly behind her, his expression one of stark concern.
“Gideon.” She pressed a hand to her suddenly racing heart. “What is it?”
He glanced carefully around the garden, as if expecting to discover someone lurking about. She wondered if he had overheard any of her conversation with the gypsy.
“Has Mr. Soltern been here?”
She blinked in surprise at his abrupt question. “No, I have not encountered him in several days.”
Gideon did not relax his tense survey, his entire body coiled for attack.
“Are you certain?”