That Infamous Pearl by Alicia Quigley

Nonetheless, you will not meddle in my affairs." Alaric placed a hand
under her chin and tipped her head up. Their eyes met, his determined, hers
full of challenge. "You will do as I say, or you will regret it. Good
evening, Marguerite."
    Alaric
turned on his heel and walked away. Marguerite gazed after him angrily.
    "We
shall see, Alaric, who wins in the end," she murmured.

Chapter 8
    Alaric
dismounted from a hackney cab and signaled to the coachman to wait. He walked
casually down the alley leading to the Belmont garden wall, keeping an alert
eye out to make sure no one was watching him. London was a dangerous city, and
there were always thieves about, but he was well able to defend himself and
felt far more worried that he would be sighted by some inquisitive member of
the ton , or a servant, who would doubtless spread gossip.
    Alaric
reflected bitterly on Marguerite's behavior earlier at the opera. The sight of
her with Rowena had made him furious, and her obvious attempt to meddle in his
affairs only made him angrier. He would have to keep her away by any means
possible. And he would have to find a way to still her malicious tongue. He
could not have it said that he meant to seduce Rowena. Seduction would mean
marriage, or the girl's ruination, and he could not have either. Still, the
thought lingered in his mind. Rowena would make him a suitable wife, and he
should marry and raise an heir. He resolutely quashed the idea. It was a
foolish notion, brought about by his wish to protect Rowena from Marguerite. She
was a diversion, nothing more, and he would soon be weary of her.
    When he
climbed the garden wall a few moments later he found Rowena waiting for him. She
stood near the house, a white shawl wrapped around her shoulders, still dressed
in the shimmering violet gown she had worn at the opera. She looked like a
ghost, the moonlight bathing her in its pale glow, illuminating her own
exquisite fairness. Alaric paused, enchanted by the sight.
    Rowena
broke the spell by striding towards him, a determined look on her charming
face. "What did you mean by your behavior tonight?" she demanded. "Why
did you drag Lady Bingham from our box like that?"
    Alaric
smiled. Her directness was part of her charm, he thought. He could rely on
Rowena to say exactly what was on her mind.
    "I
had the impression that your aunt was not enjoying her company," he said
coolly. "It seemed only polite to rescue her."
    Rowena
paused, the annoyance in her expression fading a little. "It was not
because of me?"
    Alaric
raised an eyebrow. "I certainly do not think your aunt would consider Lady
Bingham a suitable companion for you."
    "Then
you were being prudish. I had not thought it of you, my lord."
    "Prudish?
I have been accused of many things in my time, but I believe that is not one of
them." Alaric took her hand and gently squeezed it. "Trust me,
Rowena, you do not want to become acquainted with Lady Bingham."
    "Oh,
I do not care to be her friend," said Rowena eagerly. "She seems to
be a remarkably foolish woman. But she knew Malcolm, and has seen him recently,
in Paris! I believe we might be able to get some information from her. You seem
to know her, my lord. Was she acquainted with Malcolm at the time of the
murder?"
    "She
certainly was," said Alaric grimly. "But her opinions would be of no
use to us."
    "I
don't know how you can say that, my lord. You are obviously a longtime friend
of hers." Rowena's voice sounded a touch perturbed.
    "That
is how I know she would be unable to help us, and I would hardly call her a
friend. Lady Bingham is neither observant nor intelligent. If she recalled any
details of the events we are concerned with at all, they would be highly
suspect."
    There was
a pause. "How well do you know Lady Bingham, my lord?" asked Rowena
in a small voice. She hated herself for asking the question, but it had simply
popped out against her will. Despite her claim that her only interest in Lady
Bingham was that lady's friendship