A Study In Seduction(50)

Jane smiled again. A strange sense of relief flowed through her, though she didn’t quite know why. “It’s funny, isn’t it, sir? That some people are so effortlessly good at something that’s not at all easy for others.”

“Mmm. Very odd, that. Though you’ve got your encyclopedic knowledge of insects.”

“That’s not exactly a talent, though. Anyone can learn about insects. Not everyone can learn to play the piano the way Mr. Hall does. Or solve algebra problems the way Lydia does. Not everyone has something… inside them to offer.”

Lord Northwood looked down at his hands resting on the keys. “Everyone has something to offer, Miss Jane.”

“I don’t.” She winced, worried she sounded self-pitying when she meant to merely state a fact. But Lord Northwood only gave her a considering look.

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t have something like Mr. Hall or Lydia. Or my father. He had such an instinct about his translations. Few people could do what he did.”

“Someday you might study insects in depth. Write books. Give lectures. Discover things about entomology that no one has learned before.”

Jane had never considered such a thing. A little tingle of excitement went through her at the idea of discovering something that no one else in the world knew—and at the idea that Lord Northwood believed she could.

“Well.” Jane gave him a wry smile. “Quite difficult to discover things when one is busy learning to dance and hold a fork properly. Not at the same time, of course.”

Lord Northwood laughed. He had a wonderful laugh, deep and booming, his face creasing and eyes twinkling.

“Ah, Alexander, you’ve finally consented to let me teach you a thing or two.” Mr. Hall stepped into the room. “Rather than the other way around.”

Lord Northwood rolled his eyes conspiratorially at Jane. She grinned at the mischievous look.

“On the contrary, Bastian, you’ve got a lovely young woman to instruct about the fine art of piano.” Lord Northwood pushed himself to his feet. “See you don’t bore her to tears.”

He picked up a coat that lay over the back of a chair near the piano. As he shook out the creases, a thump sounded on the carpet, the glint of metal flashing.

Jane bent at the same time as the viscount to retrieve the item. He reached it first, scooping the object into his hand, but not before Jane recognized the fenghuang engraving on the silver locket.

She straightened, confusion filling her chest. Lord Northwood and Mr. Hall exchanged glances, Mr. Hall clearing his throat with an awkward sound.

Jane scratched her head, the sudden tension in the air adding to her bewilderment. She knew the locket had belonged to her mother, that Papa had had it specially made as a wedding present. After Theodora Kellaway died, the locket was tucked away in a box with several other pieces of jewelry. As far as Jane knew, it hadn’t been taken from the box in years.

So the fact that the necklace was in Lord Northwood’s pocket was utterly baffling.

The viscount stepped toward her and extended his hand. The locket looked delicate and small against his big, rough palm.

Jane took it from him and rubbed her thumb over the engraving. She’d only seen the locket, held it, once or twice. Her chest hurt a little.

“It was my mother’s,” she finally said.

“I know.” Lord Northwood’s deep voice sounded tight. “Your sister told me.”

“Did she give it to you?”

“No. I’d never intended to keep it.”

“But why do you have it at all?” Jane asked.

“Through a rather odd set of circumstances that are perhaps best left unexplained. I have every intention of returning it to your sister.”

“I see,” Jane said, though she didn’t really.

She stared at the dragon engraving on the back. Something was happening between Lydia and the viscount. Jane sensed it now more than ever. Something ominous yet inevitable, like the darkening of a sea before a storm, long shadows of dusk spilling over the streets, flower buds closing to the night. A dragon spreading its wings.

She twisted the chain around her fingers and opened the locket. She stared at the picture of her lovely, smiling mother, and Papa, his expression serious, his face so dear, so familiar. Tears stung Jane’s eyes.

The voices of Lord Northwood and his brother created a deep hum. Jane glanced up to find they had stepped away from her to speak in lowered tones.