Silk and Secrets

Chapter 1





London October 1840



Lord Ross Carlisle sipped his brandy, thinking with amusement that watching two lovebirds bill and coo was enough to drive a man to the far corners of the earth, which was exactly where Ross was about to go. It did not make it easier that the happy lovers were his best friends. Perhaps that made it harder.

His gaze drifted over the comfortable lamp-lit drawing room where they were enjoying an after-dinner drink. Brandy for the two men, lemonade for Lady Sara, who was in the early stages of pregnancy and had lost her taste for alcohol. The three of them had spent many similar evenings together, and Ross would greatly miss the conversation and companionship.

Finally remembering his obligations, Ross's host broke away from the silent communion   he had been sharing with his wife and lifted the decanter. "Care for some more brandy, Ross?"

"A little, please. Not too much, or I'll have no head for traveling in the morning."

Mikahl Connery poured a small measure of amber spirits into both of their crystal goblets. Lifting his goblet, he said, "May you have an exciting and productive journey."

His wife, Lady Sara Connery, raised her glass and added, "And after all the excitement, may you have a safe return home."

"I will cheerfully drink to both of those goals." Ross gave Sara a fond glance, thinking how well marriage suited her. She was his cousin and the two of them shared the unusual combination of brown eyes and burnished gold hair, but Sara had a quiet inner serenity that Ross had never known. For many years the only peace he had found had been in travel, in challenging himself in ways that engaged all his mind and strength. "Don't fret while I'm gone, Sara. The Levant is less hazardous than many of the other places I've been. Certainly it's safer than the wild mountains where I met your alarming husband."

Mikahl drank the toast, then set his glass down. "Perhaps it's time to give up your restless wandering and settle down, Ross," he said, lazy humor in his intensely green eyes. He laid a large hand over Sara's. "A wife is far more exciting than a desert or a ruined city."

Ross smiled. "There is no zealot greater than a convert. When you came to England a year and a half ago, you would have laughed at the idea of marriage."

"But I am so much wiser now." Mikahl put an arm around his wife's shoulders and drew her closer. "Of course, there is only one Sara, but somewhere in England you should be able to find a satisfactory bride."

Perhaps it was the brandy, or perhaps it was pure mischief on Ross's part. "Doubtless you're right," he replied, "but such a paragon would be of no value to me. Didn't I ever mention that I already have a wife?" With immense satisfaction Ross saw that for once he had managed to surprise his friend.

"You know damned well that you never told me any such thing," Mikahl said, his black brows drawing together. Not quite believing, he looked questioningly at his wife.

Sara nodded confirmation. "It's quite true, my dear. I was maid of honor at the wedding." Transferring her grave regard to her cousin, she added, "A dozen years ago."

"Fascinating." Mikahl's gaze became unfocused for a moment, as if reviewing the past from a different perspective. Since he was totally lacking in polite British restraint, he said with vivid interest, "You've certainly done a good job of hiding the woman. What is the story, or shouldn't I ask?"

"You shouldn't ask," Sara said, aiming a stern wifely glance at her husband.

"You needn't scowl at Mikahl like that, Sara. It's not a secret, merely very old news." Feeling the need for more brandy, Ross poured himself another glass. "I was just down from Cambridge when I met Juliet Cameron. She was a schoolfriend of Sara's, a tall red-headed vixen quite unlike any other female I'd ever met. As the daughter of a Scottish diplomat, Juliet had spent much of her youth in exotic places like Persia and Tripoli. Since I was a budding orientalist, I found her quite irresistible. We married in a blinding haze of mutual lust. Everyone said that it would never work, and for once, everyone was right."

Ross's casual tone must have been unconvincing, for Mikahl narrowed his eyes with an uncomfortable degree of perception. However, he asked only, "Where is your Juliet now?"

"She is no longer my Juliet, and I haven't the remotest idea where she is." Ross downed his brandy in one swallow. "After six months of marriage, she ran away, leaving a note saying that she had no desire to see either me or England again. According to her lawyer, she is prospering, but I have no idea where or how. Knowing Juliet, she probably set up as a pasha in the Sahara and has the world's only male harem." He stood. "It's getting late. Time for me to go home if I want to be off before dawn tomorrow."