December 1924, Avebury Manor
Marguerite was holding a copy of Gladys's papers, its pages crisp and the ink still smelling of the press.
Her eyes scanned the headlines until they landed on the article she had been eagerly anticipating.
Gems of the Season: The Unicorn's Next Target?
A satisfied smile played on her lips as she began to read.
The article was everything Marguerite had hoped for. Gladys had skillfully woven intrigue and allure into the piece. She highlighted the most coveted jewels in England, including Marguerite's own diamond.
The trap was set.
Also Marguerite very easily convinced Gladys to hand over the letter and photographs, assuring her that solving the Unicorn mystery was far more valuable than a political scandal. Moreover, since Gladys had already published the article, the possibility of retracting it was off the table, leaving her with no leverage for bargaining. She found herself with no choice but to agree, handing over the evidence, consoled with the promise of uncovering something far more valuable.
That evening, for the first time in many years, Marguerite took the green diamond out of her jewelry box. She had never worn it, but she kept it for its sentimental value. She decided tonight is the perfect time to wear it for the first time and she placed it around her neck. Feeling in the mood for a bit of seduction, Marguerite undressed completely, wearing only the diamond, and entered the bedroom where her husband, John, was waiting.
Upon seeing her, John momentarily forgot to breathe.
He sat on the edge of the bed, watching her with adoration as she approached him with the graceful steps of a panther.
"How do you like it?" She asked, her fingers caressing the diamond.
"It's beautiful. I've never seen it before."
"I've never worn it before. Tonight, it just felt right."
John then put hands on her hips and began to kiss her stomach, her fingers threading through his hair. As his face nestled between her breasts, he murmured, "You've been in the mood quite often these days. I don't know what it is, but I'm not missing the chance."
Marguerite laughed lightly. "It seems all this drama is boiling my blood, bringing out the worst in me."
"Or the best," John countered.
With a determined look in her eyes, she motioned for him with her finger, to lie back on the bed so she could position herself atop him, continuing their intimate and playful evening.
The green diamond at her neck sparkled with each shift of light, drawing John's gaze and adding a mesmerizing quality to the moment.
As Marguerite positioned herself gracefully above John, he couldn't help but admire the view from below. Her perky breasts were perfectly framed in the soft light of the room, and nestled enchantingly between them was the green diamond.
The moment was not just intimate, but beautifully erotic.
Marguerite leaned forward, her lips barely brushing against his, teasing him with the promise of a kiss. John's hands roamed over her body, savoring the feel of her skin under his touch.
She moved slowly at first, savoring every second, every inch. The room was filled with the sounds of their passion, soft gasps, and whispered endearments. They moved together in perfect harmony, each bringing the other closer to the edge.
Finally, with a shared gasp, they reached the peak of their passion, their bodies trembling in unison. Marguerite collapsed onto John, their breaths heavy and mingled. The green diamond rested between them, as a silent witness to their love and desire.
Usually, John was the first to wake up. He would quietly sneak out of bed, careful not to disturb his sleeping wife, who enjoyed sleeping in. He would dress quietly, taking care not to make any noise, then go downstairs to enjoy a peaceful moment of contemplation with a cup of coffee and the morning newspaper before breakfast.
This morning, Marguerite woke up first. She got up to open the curtains and saw the entire estate covered in white.
Although she could hardly wait to stroll through the fresh snow, for now, she was content to savor the warmth and comfort of the bed a little longer. She nestled back under the covers, which stirred John from his sleep. He wrapped his arms around her, and she whispered, "It's snowing."
John smiled, pulling her closer. "Sounds like a perfect day for a horse ride."
Their peace was soon interrupted by the gentle creak of the door as the housemaid entered. She carried a basket of logs and kindling for the fireplace.
Once the fire was roaring and the maid had left, Marguerite asked, "What do you say we stay here until the room warms up?"
"I can't think of a better plan."
John lay comfortably nestled on Marguerite's chest, enjoying the comfort of her breasts under her soft pajamas. Her fingers gently combed through his hair, soothing him with each tender stroke.
She hummed a popular tune. "How come you do me like you do? How come you do me like you do do do?"
John raised his head slightly, amused by the suggestive lyrics. "Is that a real song?"
"Yes, it's by Marion Harris. It's not quite about what it sounds like—I have taken it a bit out of context."
"Well, that explains the mischievous tone," he remarked, settling back down with a contented sigh. "Keep singing, though. It's quite the morning serenade."
In the days that followed, each morning after breakfast, they would go horseback riding. John rode his trusty brown stallion — Thunder. Marguerite mounted her magnificent black steed, Dante. She adored the contrast of white snowflakes against his glossy black coat. Sometimes Ned and Veronica would join them, but often they enjoyed the crisp winter mornings alone.
After one of their morning rides, everyone went to change. John headed to his dressing room, and Marguerite entered their master bedroom, which was filled only with her belongings. To her surprise, sitting casually in a chair in the middle of the room was a young woman with brown bobbed hair and a mischievous smile. Around her neck, hanging from a chain, was the green diamond.