Two Little Lies Read Online Free PDF Page A

setting down Devellyn’s purchase in a green baize ledger. “May I show you anything else, my lord?” she enquired, flicking a neutral glance up at him.
    “No, I think not, thank you,” he said, slapping his hat back on his head. “I will make enquiries as to the lady’s preferences and return another time.”
    Quin went back out into Burlington Arcade and strode toward the pressing rush of Piccadilly. All along the street, dead leaves were swirling, some of them so bold as to blow back into the entrance of the elegant arcade itself. The autumn day was surprisingly clear, though the air was sharp, portending winter’s swift approach.
    Pausing on the pavement, he narrowed his eyes against the brightness, feeling vaguely disoriented. Lord, he’d felt a fool inside the small, overheated jeweler’s shop. Devellyn was right; he did not consort with the sort of women for whom one bought fine jewels. Not any longer. And even when he had done so, it had been rubies, and nothing less.
    That was why the garnets had caught his eye. He had seen them, and for a moment, he had thought of…well, of Viviana Alessandri. He had realized his misjudgment at once. Garnets had never been good enough for her; he’d known that much without asking. The rich, bloodred ruby had always personified Viviana, and her delicate, faintly olive skin had made them shimmer with life. So he had chosen each bracelet, brooch, and necklace with the utmost care, just as Devellyn had chosen the sapphire earbobs for his beloved Sidonie.
    But for all the care he had put into each, Viviana had turned around and sold it, quite heartlessly and calculatingly—to pay off her dressmaker, or settle her gaming debts, he supposed. Which was, of course, her prerogative as a kept woman. Or more accurately, as a whore. And at the end of that awful, heart-wrenching affair, he had told himself that never again would he expend his emotional energy in choosing a gift—even the slightest bauble—for any woman. For the last nine years, he had not so much as darkened the door of a jewelry store. Until today.
    Quin set off down the street in the direction of Green Park, but just a few yards along, he paused opposite the Bath Hotel. A fine coach and four had drawn up near the corner, where a gentleman and a lady were engaged in an animated quarrel, hands moving almost as fast as their words. He realized at once that they were wealthy, and that they were foreign. Their fine attire made plain the first. As to the latter, members of the English ton would sooner die than be seen squabbling in the street like fishmongers.
    The lady’s face he could not see, but he had the strangest notion she would be stunningly beautiful. The gentleman was elderly, stooped, and somewhat frail in appearance. He was, however, holding his own. Quin caught snatches of the language, too. Italian, or something similar. As if he were the veriest rustic, Quin stopped to gawk, though he could not have said why.
    Amidst all the waving and scolding, the crux of the argument was easy to discern. The lady wished the gentleman to get into the carriage. The gentleman wished to walk. The argument continued for a few more sharp words, then the elderly gentleman moved as if to leave her.
    At last, the woman threw up her hands, signaling her surrender. The elderly gentleman hesitated. In an almost maternal gesture, the lady’s fingers went to his muffler, pulling it snug around his neck and tucking the ends into his greatcoat. The gentleman bracketed her face in his hands, and kissed her once on each cheek, then set off in the direction of Mayfair.
    And then she turned around.
    Quin felt the breath suddenly slammed from his body.
    As a boy, he’d once rushed a fence he’d no business jumping. His horse had had better sense. Quin had been tossed off to one side, where he’d landed ignominiously in the grass, his heart in his throat and gasping for air for what seemed an eternity.
    This time, the boyish ignominy