“Do you know, Beverley, you nauseate me? As for giving you the diamonds, I have come here with exactly that purpose.”
Beverley’s hand shot out. “I d-don’t care what you think of m-me! Only hand the n-necklace over!”
“Certainly,” Sir Richard said, taking the leather purse out of his pocket. “But you, Beverley, will give them back to your mother.”
Beverley stared at him. “I’ll be d-damned if I will! You fool, how could I?”
“You may concoct what plausible tale you please: I will even engage myself to lend it my support. But you will give back the necklace.”
A slight sneer disfigured Beverley’s face. “Oh, j-just as you l-like! Hand it over!”
Sir Richard tossed the purse over to him. “Ah, Beverley! Perhaps I should make it clear to you that if, when I return to town, it has not been restored to Lady Saar I shall be compelled to—er—split on you.”
“You won’t!” Beverley said, stowing the purrse away in an inner pocket. “M-mighty pretty behaviour for a b-brother-in-law!”
“But I am not your brother-in-law,” said Sir Richard gently.
“Oh, you n-needn’t think I don’t know you’re g-going to m-marry Melissa! Our scandals will become yours too. I think you’ll keep your m-mouth shut.”