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“Of my hair?”
“No. The men. But whoever it was, they did a great job. Come, let me show you something.”
On the dining table, I’ve laid out three velvet boxes. I open them all, revealing their sparkling secrets. Alessia inhales in wonder.
“Yes. Trevethick booty. Part of a substantial collection.”
* * *
Alessia is awestruck. On the table, nestled in velvet, is some of the most exquisite jewelry she’s ever seen.
Diamonds.
Diamonds winking in the soft light of the chandelier.
“I think these,” Maxim breathes eventually, and he reaches for a pair of starburst cluster diamond earrings. “Let’s see what they look like.” Gently he tucks her hair behind her ears and inserts first one, then the other earring. “You’re beautiful. You don’t need any embellishments, but these earrings are fit for a goddess. And in that dress, that’s what you are. Do you like?”
Alessia stares in the gilt mirror on the wall at the unrecognizable woman gazing back at her. She looks and feels… different. Confident. Potent. “I love them,” she whispers, her eyes shifting to her husband’s in the mirror and she drinks in his beauty. His emerald eyes glint, and his sculptured lips part as he inhales. He’s in a fitted black suit, with a white shirt.
He looks virile. Elegant. Gorgeous.
He gives her a dazzling smile. “Good. Let me put these back in the safe.”
“You have a safe?”
“We have a safe. It’s in my wardrobe.”
Hand in hand, Alessia and Maxim walk up Cheyne Walk toward Trevelyan House. Alessia tries to stifle her nerves, remembering Mrs. Blake’s less than enthusiastic welcome last weekend.
What kind of reception will she receive today?
“This house has been in my family for generations. In fact, since it was new,” Maxim says as he opens an iron gate that leads down a short stone path in a neat garden. They stop outside an impressive old building with a gleaming black front door that looks remarkably like the door at the house on Cheyne Walk. “I grew up here.”
Alessia smiles. “Are there photographs of you as a boy here?”
Maxim laughs. “Yes. Many.” He reaches up and pushes the bell, which rings shrilly somewhere inside the house. “You’ve met Mrs. Blake.” Maxim’s mouth flattens into a bleak line. “She’s been with the family for years, since my father was earl. Mr. Blake, her husband, is the family butler.”
“Okay.” Alessia inwardly girds herself.
A stout, balding man in a pristine black suit answers the door. He turns his shrewd brown eyes on Alessia, then Maxim. “Lord Trevethick,” he says and, bowing his head, holds open the door.
“Blake.” Maxim is tight-lipped as he takes Alessia’s hand and guides her into the hall. “This is my wife, Lady Trevethick.”
“Congratulations to you both,” he says kindly. “Lady Trevethick, welcome to Trevelyan House. May I take your coats?”
“Caroline is expecting us,” Maxim informs him as he hands over his coat. Following his lead, Alessia removes hers too.
“Lady Trevethick,” he murmurs as he takes it, his eyes bright with admiration. Alessia returns his smile. “Lady Trevethick is in the drawing room, my lord. Brace yourselves. I believe cosmopolitans are on the menu.”
Maxim chuckles. “Thanks.”
Blake gives them both a nod, turns on his shiny black shoes, and paces down the long black-and-white tiled hall. Alessia’s gaze follows him. The walls are adorned with photographs and paintings. Two large chandeliers are hanging from the ceiling, much like those in Maxim’s apartment, but these are bigger. An ornate gilt mirror sits above an old wooden console table where two elaborate lamps with golden lampshades cast a gilded light over the hall.
“The drawing room is upstairs,” Maxim says, smiling at her.
Their footsteps clatter up a broad staircase made of rich, russet-brown wood. Above them, on the walls, are more paintings and photographs. Alessia catches sight of one with Maxim. He looks younger, and he’s posing with a blond, curly-haired man who seems a little older than him. They’re in a uniform: white britches, long leather boots, and darker T-shirts with LAURENT PERRIER emblazoned on the front. A long mallet is casually propped on Maxim’s shoulder, while the other man, who has an arrogant, imposing air, is resting his hand on a similar mallet.
“That’s Kit and me in our polo gear. It’s from about five years ago.”
“You both look very handsome.”
Maxim grins, looking boyish and pleased at once. “Thank you.” He leads her through a door on the landing into a large drawing room where Caroline is waiting. She’s impeccably dressed in a floor-length black gown with a plunging neckline, single pearls at her ears, and a long, knotted pearl necklace that falls between her breasts. She steps forward and grasps both Maxim’s and Alessia’s hands.
“Welcome, Alessia, you look stunning. Maxim.” She kisses Alessia’s cheek and offers her own to Maxim.
“Caro. You look lovely.” Maxim gives her a brief peck.
“I do so hope you’re both in need of a cosmo.” She squeezes their hands, then turns and presses a button on the wall. “Do take a seat.”
