Free Sybille's Lord by Raven McAllan Page B

sitting
room, and she waved them to seat. “Sybille, once you serve your papa and Thomas
with what they prefer, you sit on that chaise with Thomas. I will sit next to
my husband. And have wine.”
    “Obvious,
is she not?” Sybille muttered. “I’m sorry.”
    Thom
patted her bottom surreptitiously, as she turned to nod to her maman. “I’m not.”
He loved her flounce and flustered look as she swished her skirts. The green
and cream silk suited her admirably. The soft draped neckline enhanced the
gentle swell of her breasts, and beckoned to him.
      One day.
    “You
said something?” Sybille enquired as she handed him a glass of port, and took
up what looked to him like watered wine.
    “No
brandy?”
    “Coward,”
Sybille muttered.
    “Of
course,” he replied out of the corner of his mouth. He noticed Mijo watching
the exchange with interest, and perhaps a shade of alarm in her expression. He
smiled to reassure her and saw her relax. Bless Mijo, she so wanted Sybille to
desire him for all the right reasons.
    “You
would prefer brandy?” Theo asked. “We have some of course. Mijo would never
forgive me if we were unable to offer her national spirit. I thought, however,
immediately after a meal…”
    Thom
nodded as Sybille paled. “You are perfectly correct. I was merely wondering if
you preferred it?”
      “Later.”
    “Much
later,” Sybille muttered as she sat next to him and took a sip of her drink. “So,
let’s not prevaricate please. I feel as if the axe is about to descend.”
    “You
don’t,” Mijo said. “But for some reason you are worried about something, and
therefore it worries me. Time to open up. Tell us the all.”
    Thom
looked at Sybille in enquiry. “Over to you, my dear. This is your story not
mine.”
    “Ah.”
Mijo frowned. “I had thought perhaps you both had the same story to tell?” A
betrothal, her tone intimated.
    Thom
laughed. “Sadly, not yet.”
    “Maman,
stop it,” Sybille said sternly. “If, and I reiterate if, we have anything to tell you at any point we will. But
remember, I am your daughter. Who taught me to be stubborn and stick to my
guns?”
    Theo
gave a bark of laughter. “She has you there, ma cherie. So Sybille, what is
worrying you?”
    “Mama’s
pearls,” Sybille said baldy.
    Thom
looked from Theo to Mijo. Both seemed somewhat shocked and all the color had leeched
from Mijo’s skin as she clutched Theo’s arm and leaned forward.
    “M…my
pearls?”
    “Oh
Maman, yes, your pearls. Where are they?”
    Mijo
visibly collected her wits together. “Being restrung, I told you.”
    “Oh,
Maman.”
    Sybille
looked toward Thom with a pleading expression. He couldn’t resist it.
    “Mijo,
Theo, We have a problem. Sybille also knows the pearls are false. No, hear me
out.” He peremptorily cut off Theo’s what? “That in itself is not a problem. The problem regards their present location.
Who did you give them to for restringing, if indeed you have done so?”
    “Of
course I have done so,” Mijo said. “The string broke. It is expected I wear
them.”
    “But
Maman, they’re fake. You can’t let a jeweler have them. Good grief, Rundle and
Bridge would crucify you if you let them believe them real.” Sybille jumped up
and began to pace. “What now?”
    “Do
you think me that stupid? Of course I didn’t send them to Rundle and Bridge. I
sent them to Mr. Sandeman where I got them from.”
    “I’m
not sure that’s any better,” Sybille said. “Who is he?”
    “The
man who copied my original string. And the man who thought I had them copied
for my daughters to practice their deportment in.” Mijo sat back in her chair,
a satisfied smile on her face.
    “So
where are the real pearls?”
    Mijo
bit her lip and looked at Theo. He shrugged and shook his head.
    “I
do not know,” Mijo said as the silence lengthened to discomfort. “They were
sold to pay for Dare to go to Oxford.” Her tone dared anyone to challenge her
statement.
    Thom
shot her a