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Authors: Robyn DeHart
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elegant.
Excitement fluttered in her belly. Perhaps this was it—Pandora’s charm. Was it possible that by simply wearing the band men
would want her? That she could finally know what it was like to walk into a room and have all men’s eyes turn to her?
A giggle erupted from within her. It was a mythical box, not a miracle box. She ought not get too encouraged. Perhaps it would
assist her in the ways of womanly charms, but the chances of her becoming an irresistible siren were slim.
She held her arm up in the air, moving her wrist about. The light played against the sliver of gold. Something caught her
attention, and she held the bracelet up to the light to admire it and noticed an engraving. A closer look proved the impression
to be ancient Greek; a language she could read, but not one she was proficient in. Luckily for her, the text to decipher was
short, only one word. She read the word and thought on it a moment, unsure if she’d translated correctly. Another glance and
she was certain.
Lust
.
With her other hand she attempted to remove the gold band, to put it back in the box, but it would not budge. No matter how
much she tugged, the bracelet would not move past her thumb.
Splendid
.
Her heart raced to a wild beating and her breaths came in short surges. This changed everything.
This wasn’t a charm.
This was a
curse
.
Chapter Six
M r. Grey! Mr. Grey.” Esme came barreling down the looming staircase and stopped just short of running headlong into him. “Oh,
there you are.”
Fielding nodded to the butler, and the servant turned and left. Here in his well-lit hallway, he could see now that her hair
was clean it was more of a reddish-brown, with hints of gold peeking through the soft curls. “What is it, Miss Worthington,
that is so pressing you must tear through the house bellowing my name?”
She frowned, and two small lines furrowed her otherwise smooth forehead. It transformed her face, and something about her
ridiculous expression tugged at his lips, urging him to smile.
“I was not bellowing,” she said, attempting to compose herself. “I merely needed to find you in a hurry, and this place”—she
made a sweeping gesture with her hand—“is rather large. I almost got lost on the third floor when you were nowhere to be found
on the second.”
“Yes, well, you’ve found me now. I’ve made arrangements for our travel, and I see you’ve cleaned yourself up and found something
suitable to wear. Although that dress is too long for you.” Not to mention a little snug around her generous hips. Esme Worthington
had a luscious bottom. He’d noticed that straightaway through her thin nightdress, and still she was unable to hide it beneath
this dress and all the underthings he knew women layered on. He cleared his throat, annoyed with his train of thought. “We
may leave.”
“Yes,” she said excitedly. “Yes, let us leave; you must take me home at once. And I’m afraid I must speak with you.” The frown
again touched between her eyes. “It is of grave importance.”
She fell into step beside him as he made his way to the study. He gathered the box and a stack of unopened mail. “How is your
head feeling? Thatcher struck you fairly hard.”
“Your maids were able to remove all the blood, and one of them rubbed on an herbal poultice, which has all but removed the
dull ache. I believe I shall recover quite nicely.”
“Glad to hear it,” he said.
“Now, then. There are many legends of Pandora’s box, and I’ve read quite a lot of them because, well, because as I said earlier,
I’ve been studying the legend of Pandora’s box. I have many volumes that cover nothing but that particular subject.” She scarcely
took breaths in between her sentences, and Fielding found himself growing anxious listening to her as they left the house.
He helped Miss Worthington into the carriage, and she never missed a beat.
“As you can imagine, with
Excitement fluttered in her belly. Perhaps this was it—Pandora’s charm. Was it possible that by simply wearing the band men
would want her? That she could finally know what it was like to walk into a room and have all men’s eyes turn to her?
A giggle erupted from within her. It was a mythical box, not a miracle box. She ought not get too encouraged. Perhaps it would
assist her in the ways of womanly charms, but the chances of her becoming an irresistible siren were slim.
She held her arm up in the air, moving her wrist about. The light played against the sliver of gold. Something caught her
attention, and she held the bracelet up to the light to admire it and noticed an engraving. A closer look proved the impression
to be ancient Greek; a language she could read, but not one she was proficient in. Luckily for her, the text to decipher was
short, only one word. She read the word and thought on it a moment, unsure if she’d translated correctly. Another glance and
she was certain.
Lust
.
With her other hand she attempted to remove the gold band, to put it back in the box, but it would not budge. No matter how
much she tugged, the bracelet would not move past her thumb.
Splendid
.
Her heart raced to a wild beating and her breaths came in short surges. This changed everything.
This wasn’t a charm.
This was a
curse
.
Chapter Six
M r. Grey! Mr. Grey.” Esme came barreling down the looming staircase and stopped just short of running headlong into him. “Oh,
there you are.”
Fielding nodded to the butler, and the servant turned and left. Here in his well-lit hallway, he could see now that her hair
was clean it was more of a reddish-brown, with hints of gold peeking through the soft curls. “What is it, Miss Worthington,
that is so pressing you must tear through the house bellowing my name?”
She frowned, and two small lines furrowed her otherwise smooth forehead. It transformed her face, and something about her
ridiculous expression tugged at his lips, urging him to smile.
“I was not bellowing,” she said, attempting to compose herself. “I merely needed to find you in a hurry, and this place”—she
made a sweeping gesture with her hand—“is rather large. I almost got lost on the third floor when you were nowhere to be found
on the second.”
“Yes, well, you’ve found me now. I’ve made arrangements for our travel, and I see you’ve cleaned yourself up and found something
suitable to wear. Although that dress is too long for you.” Not to mention a little snug around her generous hips. Esme Worthington
had a luscious bottom. He’d noticed that straightaway through her thin nightdress, and still she was unable to hide it beneath
this dress and all the underthings he knew women layered on. He cleared his throat, annoyed with his train of thought. “We
may leave.”
“Yes,” she said excitedly. “Yes, let us leave; you must take me home at once. And I’m afraid I must speak with you.” The frown
again touched between her eyes. “It is of grave importance.”
She fell into step beside him as he made his way to the study. He gathered the box and a stack of unopened mail. “How is your
head feeling? Thatcher struck you fairly hard.”
“Your maids were able to remove all the blood, and one of them rubbed on an herbal poultice, which has all but removed the
dull ache. I believe I shall recover quite nicely.”
“Glad to hear it,” he said.
“Now, then. There are many legends of Pandora’s box, and I’ve read quite a lot of them because, well, because as I said earlier,
I’ve been studying the legend of Pandora’s box. I have many volumes that cover nothing but that particular subject.” She scarcely
took breaths in between her sentences, and Fielding found himself growing anxious listening to her as they left the house.
He helped Miss Worthington into the carriage, and she never missed a beat.
“As you can imagine, with
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