Bronwyn Scott - Secret Life of a Scandalous Debutante

Christoph placed his hand over hers, the warmth of a private smile playing across his lips, his voice low and confidential. ‘Thank you. Only those who have experienced such devastation firsthand can truly appreciate what those days meant to us and how we’ve had to rebuild a new life. We’ve been cast to all corners of Europe these days, and still we survive, yes?’

Survival was at stake right that moment, Lilya thought, staring up at Christoph Agyros’s darkly handsome face. She worried that she’d made a tactical mistake. She had not told him where she was from when they’d met in the park. Yet he’d pushed ahead with his assumptions as if they’d been confirmed and she had not corrected him. Perhaps she should have. But a correction would have been a denial, a lie. If he discovered the truth later, he would wonder why she’d attempted the subterfuge. If he wasn’t suspicious of her now, he would be then. If he was truly a diplomatic aide with no ties to the diamond, then she had nothing to fear from the admission. If he had darker purposes, he knew who she was already. A lie would be useless at best, a confirmation at worst. Only people with something to hide lied.

‘My family was killed in Negush,’ she admitted quietly, her decision made. They’d somehow managed to find a place slightly off the path. They were alone in the brightly lit garden.

‘You are hesitant to talk of the past,’ he said softly. ‘Do not be ashamed. We have thrived. Like a phoenix, we have risen from the ashes.’ His voice carried a quiet intimacy, his words attempting to bind them together. She could allow herself to take comfort in the moment, but she could not take more, could not trust him more. Not yet.

‘Lilya,’ he whispered her name, his hand gently cupping her cheek, his intentions unmistakable. He was going to kiss her. They both knew it. He was a handsome man and so far she had no reason to feel threatened. There was no motivation for her alarm, but it was there all the same.

A voice intruded, terse and sharp. ‘Miss Stefanov, there you are.’

Beldon.

Lilya breathed a relieved sigh and stepped back out of reach at the sound of the familiar voice.

‘We’ve got a dance coming up.’ Beldon’s tone brooked no disagreement. His eyes were cold as he took in Christoph Agyros. How much had Beldon seen? For no particular reason, it didn’t sit well with her that he might have spied them on the brink of a kiss, unwanted as the kiss might have been.

Beldon held out his arm for her, offering her a reason to cross the pathway to join him. ‘Give me a moment with Mr Agyros, please. There are a few things I need to explain to him.’ His eyes were hard, looking past her to Christoph. Lilya complied, sensing argument would only serve to make her look foolish and to encourage Christoph. If she protested, Christoph would think she’d welcomed the kiss. With what she hoped looked like dignity, Lilya walked a discreet distance up the path and left Beldon to his ‘business’.

Beldon’s explanations did not take long and he soon materialised by her side. ‘What, precisely, did you explain to Mr Agyros?’ Lilya enquired, trying to sound affronted. The idea of Beldon meddling in her affairs left her feeling foolish in his presence. No doubt he considered her lacking in all sense to be caught almost-kissing an almost-stranger, especially when he knew she’d been wary of Mr Agyros in the park. He would wonder what kind of woman kissed a man she didn’t trust or necessarily know.

‘I explained to him that in our part of the world, a gentleman does not steal kisses on such short acquaintance and that a woman’s reputation is taken most seriously.’

She heard the message hidden there for her. Real gentlemen protected a woman’s reputation for her, but a woman had to guard her reputation as well. Lilya flushed at the subtle scolding.

Beldon’s demeanour relaxed slightly. ‘It’s only that Val left me in charge. I would see you treated with the respect you deserve.’ He paused, leaning his head close to her ear, his breath against her ear lobe sending a skittering sensation to her stomach. ‘And I could see that you did not wish for things to progress further.’

She heard forgiveness in his words. He had not missed any of the nuances. He’d understood perfectly what had happened in the garden.

‘No one kisses a woman against her will under my protection.’

There was a surprising ferocity in the hard set of his features that mirrored the power of his words. He was studying her with a male intensity that went beyond the scrutiny of a chaperon. For a moment, she envisioned she saw desire in his eyes, a desire for her that went beyond protection. Then it was gone. Of course, she must have been mistaken. He meant to pursue another. She’d seen him dancing with Lady Eleanor, all manners, nothing at all like the feral male who strode beside her now, his vaunted self-control threatening to slip its leash. All for her.

‘Exactly what dance are we dancing?’ Lilya attempted levity, hoping to restore her senses. She and Beldon were not themselves tonight. Beldon was a caged tiger, bristling with barely leashed fury. And she was no better, shivering at the sound of his voice near her ear, imagining hot desire in his eyes and, worse yet, welcoming it, wondering over it like the gaggles of women in the ballrooms who followed him everywhere with their eyes.

‘A polka, I believe.’ Beldon placed a hand at the small of her back to usher her through the door, his urbane manners reappearing the moment he set foot on the dance floor with her, the leash firmly back on his emotions. She envied him the ease with which he segued into politeness. No one would guess minutes ago he’d been out in the garden defending her jeopardised honour.

Lilya was glad the dance was a whirling polka, demanding all her energy. There wasn’t time to talk, only to dance, and yet even then she was conscious of Beldon’s every move: the flex of his shoulders, the muscles of his legs as they progressed through the steps. Perhaps it was a consequence of the Season and everyone being excessively marriage-minded that one couldn’t help but consider every male as a possible mate, even ones that were off limits. For her, that meant all of them, but especially Beldon. This was the worst possible time to be distracted; Greece was poised on the brink of independence and a Phanariot stranger had sought out her attentions. It was definitely time to strap on a dagger.

Christoph Agyros let himself out by way of the back gate. He would not be missed and he had much to think about. The Filiki Adamao, the Brotherhood of the Diamond, would be pleased to know he’d completed the first part of his mission: to locate the daughter of Dimitri Stefanov. The Stefanovs were one of the names that came up repeatedly throughout history where the diamond was concerned. He’d been dispatched to hunt her down once she’d disappeared. There were other names, too. It was not a guarantee the Stefanovs were the keepers of the diamond. Others had been sent to explore those avenues. Now it was up to luck.

The next step was to determine if she had the diamond. Christoph hoped so. He did not like to think he’d journeyed this far only to meet a red herring. If it was his quarry that possessed the diamond, the possibilities were endless. He whistled in the darkness, trying to keep his thoughts from getting too far ahead.

The Filiki Adamao wanted the diamond for political reasons. They wanted the financial leverage to influence the next ruler, to set themselves up as the power behind the throne. They were a sentimental lot of older men. Sentiment and patriotism had its place, of course. But Christoph Agyros had a better cause: himself.