Always a Princess (7 page)

“You’re looking quite enchanting tonight,” Lady Farnham told the prune. “Did Madame LeGrand make your gown?”

“Yes, and I didn’t let her speak French, either.”

With any luck Sadie had stuck her with a few pins, though. That would have been fun to watch.

“Foreigners,” the old bat declared. “London is overrun with them these days.”

“Princess Eugenia is related to us distantly—on my husband’s side. So we look on her as part of the family,” Lady Farnham replied.

Eve couldn’t help but gape at that revelation. She’d only met this woman twice, for no more than five minutes each time, but because Lady Farnham believed they had some far-flung blood tie she looked on her as part of the family? Good God. She’d taken care of the Cathcarts’ young daughter for over a year, and they merely thought of her like the furniture. The devil could take the entire aristocracy. Every bloody last one of them.

The heir to the earldom of Farnham chose that moment to appear—finally. Philip Rosemont sauntered through some passersby and took Eve’s elbow. Would her elbows ever be her own again?

“Good evening, Your Grace,” he said. “Lovely party, eh?”

“There you are, darling,” his mother said. “Whatever possessed you to leave the princess alone for so long?”

“Did I?” He smiled an unctuous smile. “Sorry.”

Well, no matter where he’d been, he was back, and he could take her away from the duchess and her squinty disapproval. Eve took his arm. “Here is the bad boy to leave me so long without him.”

“I hope you missed me, Your Highness.”

“Of course, she did.” Lady Farnham reached up and patted her son on the cheek. “Didn’t I tell you it was part of his charm, Your Highness?”

The duchess grunted in outrage at all the sweetness. The old hag.

“I say, I found the most remarkable thing in Kent’s study, Princess,” Wesley said. “Do come along and have a look.”

“Oh, let’s all do,” Lady Farnham proclaimed. “The study, you said?”

Splendid. If the safe and the diamond were in the study, Wesley’d just invited his mother along to watch them commit their theft.

He didn’t seem in the least rattled but just looked at his mother with that insincere smile of his. “Yes, do, Mother. I suppose Father can keep Lady Quimby entertained while we go exploring.”

“Lady Quimby?” Wesley’s mother repeated.

“I do believe he’s explaining the plans for his breeding program to her as we speak.”

Lady Farnham placed her hand over her bosom. “Oh, dear heaven, not the pigs. He can’t be telling Lady Quimby about the pigs.”

“He’s gone quite past the pigs by now, I imagine, and on into animal husbandry,” Wesley said.

“Husbandry?” the duchess repeated, her voice taking on a palpable chill.

“Only animals, Your Grace,” Lady Farnham said. “Quite harmless, I’m sure.”

The duchess huffed again and then harrumphed for good measure.

“Please excuse me, all. I’d best go rescue Lady Quimby,” Wesley’s mother said. She turned on her heel and disappeared, looking for her pig-infatuated husband and his latest confidante. That left Eve with Wesley and a very ruffled dowager duchess.

Wesley smiled at the old prune. “You’ll excuse us, Your Grace?”

This time she grunted and waved her hand at them. “Be off with you.”

Before Wesley had a chance to grab Eve’s elbow, she headed in the direction from which he’d come a few minutes before. She must have chosen the right direction, because he followed just behind her.

“Where in hell have you been?” she muttered under her breath.

“Really,” he replied. “We must do something about your language.”

“Never mind my language. Where have you been?”

“Securing entry to the safe.” He reached into his pocket and produced a ring with what must have been a dozen keys on it. Just the noise of all that jangling would catch the attention of anyone nearby.

She stopped and put her hand over them. “Don’t swing those around like that. Someone might see that you have them.”

He slipped the keys back into his pocket. “No one’s anywhere near us. A few more steps and we’ll be in the hallway leading to the study.”

Eve glanced around and discovered he was right. They’d left the main party well behind them and were about to enter a darkened corridor.

“I’d never have guessed from your imposture that you’d turn out to be so timid, Miss Stanhope,” Wesley said. “If I’d known, I might never have asked you to join me in crime.”

“Why
did
you ask me? I haven’t done anything to help all evening.”

“Oh, but you did. You kept the rest of the men occupied while I found the duke’s keys.” He gazed down into her face, his lips curling into a smile another woman might find seductive. “And no wonder. You look perfectly captivating tonight. Did I tell you that?”

A breeze swept down the corridor, carrying with it a definite chill. How else could Eve explain the slight tremor inside her? It certainly had nothing to do with the warmth of standing so close to Wesley. But if he took one more step toward her, she’d have to put out a hand to stop him, because he was
not
going to make her back down.

He did lean in to her, until his breath grazed her cheek. She reached out her hand and discovered that she still held her champagne glass. She lifted his hand and put her glass into it. “You must be looking for this.”

He glanced at the glass and then at her, clearly disappointed that she hadn’t swooned into his arms or something equally foolish.

“The study?” she asked.

“Right.” He gestured with the hand that held the glass. “This way.”

She walked in front of him and went to the door he’d indicated. After glancing over her shoulder to be sure no one could see them, she opened the door and slipped inside. The room was, indeed, a study—no doubt the duke’s, as every bit of its furnishings shouted of understated opulence. Even in the glow of the single lamp she couldn’t miss the fact that the floor-to-ceiling bookcases were made of mahogany. A massive desk of the same wood sat on an oriental rug in the exact center of the room—a large chair behind it and smaller upholstered chairs in front. The man behind that desk would command respect from anyone who entered here.

Right now, Lord Wesley entered. He didn’t seem particularly overwhelmed but simply set her glass on an occasional table and glanced around. “It should be in here somewhere.”

“In here somewhere?” she repeated. “Do you mean the safe?”

“Well, yes, rather. We aren’t looking for the wine cellar.”

“Are you telling me you haven’t found the safe? That you just assume it’s in here?”

“If it isn’t here, we’ll find it somewhere else,” he said.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Wesley didn’t even know where the safe was? The man was treating this whole affair as if it were a lark. Maybe he didn’t care if they were discovered where they didn’t belong in a duke’s house, but she didn’t relish spending any time in prison.

“I found the keys, didn’t I?” he said, jingling his pocket for effect. “What have you been doing besides entertaining half of London’s most eligible bachelors?”

“And I suppose you think that’s easy,” she said.

“You seemed to be enjoying it the night we met.”

How perfectly ridiculous. They ought to be stealing a diamond and getting away, but instead here they stood, arguing. She put her hands on her hips. “If you think having strange men ogle you is fun, you should try being a woman.”

“If you disliked that sort of attention, you might have covered yourself up,” he countered, looking pointedly at her breasts.

“Why, Lord Wesley, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were jealous that night.”

That brought him up short. He stood for a moment, his mouth open. Good. Now maybe they could proceed with the business at hand.

He recovered finally and smiled at her again. “Let’s just look for the safe, shall we?”

“Fine,” she said. “Where do you suggest we start?”

He looked around the room. “You search the bookcase on that wall. Move a few books at a time, and see if you can find a safe in the wall.”

“All right.” She turned and walked to the bookcase behind her—near the door to the hallway.

“And listen to hear if someone’s approaching,” he said.

“All right.”

“And if someone should come near…”

Eve turned and glowered at the man.

“…be a good sort and rush back to my arms for another passionate embrace.”

“Must I?”

“It worked the other night.”

“All right,” she said. Better that than prison. “Do you have any further orders?”

“None for right now,” he said.

Good, because she’d heard enough from Wesley for one evening. Especially on the subject of passionate embraces. She hadn’t wanted that kiss, and she certainly didn’t want any more—even if the man could steal her breath with his caresses and set her to trembling with his touch. Oh, dear God, why was she thinking of that now? They had to snatch the diamond and get away—quickly.

She turned and examined the bookshelf. She wouldn’t be able to reach the top shelves, but she could start on the lower ones. She pulled a few volumes out and peered behind them as best as she could in the dim light. Nothing. The rest of that shelf also revealed nothing, so she started on the next.

Behind her, drawers opened and closed as Wesley searched the desk. She turned and looked at him. “Surely you don’t think to find a safe inside a desk.”

He shut the drawer he’d been digging through. “I suppose you’re right. Of course, there might be a key in here.”

“Don’t you have enough keys already?”

“Are you trying to tell me how to steal a jewel?” he asked incredulously. “I’m the Orchid Thief, after all.”

“And I suppose you have an orchid in your pocket.”

“In fact, I do.” He reached into the pocket that didn’t hold the keys and pulled out a small wooden box.

“Have you had that in there the entire evening?”

He set the box onto the desk and opened it to reveal a delicate white flower that somehow managed to glow even in the dim lamplight. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“But someone might have noticed you had something in your pocket.”

“You didn’t notice it, did you?” he said. “Come now, we don’t have all night.”

“Then you might find a more fruitful place than that desk to look for the safe.”

“Right.” He looked around the room, and his gaze fell on a large sideboard-like piece with whiskey decanters and glasses on top.

“In there?” she asked.

“Most houses keep their safes inside large pieces of furniture.” He walked to the sideboard and knelt before it. “Like this one.”

She walked up behind him and watched as he opened the doors of the sideboard. Inside he found another set of doors, which he also opened. Behind that was yet another door of metal—with a lock in the middle.

“Voilà,” he said. “The duke’s safe.”

Wesley looked up at Eve with a definite smirk in his eyes. For heaven’s sake, the time for smirking had passed. No one who came in now could mistake their presence at the duke’s soon-to-be-opened safe as a tryst. “Would you like to try some of the keys?” she asked. “Or did you plan to stay here admiring your cleverness until we’re discovered?”

“Do you have no sense of adventure at all?” he countered.

“Not where prison is concerned.” Why was she even discussing this with him? The fool was going to get them both caught. “I only want to get the diamond and get away from here.”

“Very well.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys. In the stillness of the study, their clanging sounded far louder than it had out in the corridor. She turned her head and listened as hard as she could for a hint of footsteps approaching the study—even soft footsteps. But all she could hear was the jangling of the blessed keys.

Wesley tried one of them—one that was obviously too large. When that didn’t fit, he tried another with no more success than the first.

“Hurry up, will you?” Eve whispered.

“I am hurrying.” He tried a third key.

“Not that one, either,” she said. “It should be a small key.”

He flipped a few more keys over, his fingers fumbling with the ring. The whole set fell to the floor with a resounding clatter.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“I’m trying to open the safe,” he snapped. “You’re not helping matters by hanging over my shoulder like that.”

“You needn’t get so testy,” she said. “Testiness isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

“Neither is your constant harping,” he replied.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

He glared up at her. “Why don’t you do something useful?”

She glared right back at him. “What would you suggest, your lordship?”

“Go stand by the door and listen for intruders. You can manage that, can’t you?”

She didn’t answer but walked across the room to the doorway. Putting her ear against the door, she did her best to detect any sound from the corridor over the jangling of the keys.

As she listened, she watched Wesley work. The man looked far more appealing than was good for either of them. The fabric of his jacket stretched across his back as he bent to his task, and his hair shone gold in the flickering light of the lamp. All in all, he was too big and too cocky and too beautiful for her equilibrium. And the sooner she could get out of here and away from him—and out of danger—the happier she’d be. This diamond had better fetch as much money as he’d promised, because she’d retire to Bedlam before she’d go on many more of these risky escapades.

As he tried what must have been the tenth key, it not only fit in the lock but turned as well. He smiled his smug grin again and pulled the door open. Eve left her post to kneel beside him and peer into the safe.

The first thing Wesley pulled out was a stack of bank notes at least two inches thick. He looked at them with disdain and passed them to Eve. “Might as well take a few. Kent will never miss them.”

Eve stared at them. How many warm clothes would these buy? How much fuel for the hearth? Still, she’d never imagined herself a common thief before, and Wesley’s backhanded way of offering the notes grated on her nerves.

“Go on,” he said. “They won’t hurt you.”

She peeled off a pair of notes and folded them tightly, finally pushing them into her bodice and between her breasts.

He looked on, clear approval in his eyes. “Good girl.”

She took a few more and folded them, too, as he turned his attention back to the interior of the safe.

“Take care not to stuff so many in there that you crackle when you walk,” he said over his shoulder, the odious man.

“I’ll worry about whether I crackle or not, thank you,” she said primly. “You just find the diamond.”

He chuckled and reached into the safe and pulled out a large cherrywood box. He opened it to reveal two perfectly matched dueling pistols with pearl handles. They were worth a small fortune and, it occurred to her, had the added benefit that she could shoot Wesley with one if he made any more of his clever remarks. With luck, they’d be loaded.

He shut the box and set it on the floor before peering back into the safe and rummaging around. “Papers. More bank notes, more papers. Ah, here we are.”

He sat back on his heels and pulled out another wooden box, this one slightly larger than his hand. “Unless I miss my guess, we’ve found our diamond.”

“Open it, then.”

He smiled at her indulgently. “Impatient little thing.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, this isn’t a tea party. Open the box so we can get out of here before we’re caught!”

“Yes, Your Highness.” He opened the box, revealing a velvet sack. After setting the box on the floor, he shook the contents of the sack into his hand. What fell out stole Eve’s breath right out of her chest.

“Dear God in heaven,” she gasped. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Wesley held the gem up to the light, where it appeared to give off a warm illumination of its own. A nearly perfect crystal, the diamond was almost as large as her fist, as Wesley had said before. She’d expected something clear and colorless like glass, but although she could see right through the stone to Wesley’s hand, it had a lovely color—halfway between lemon and honey.

Wesley stared at it with obvious reverence in his gaze. “The Wonder of Basutoland. Magnificent.”

“Yes,” Eve whispered.

He lifted the stone, holding it first against her throat and then her cheek. “It picks up the color of your skin,” he said. “The exact hue of your eyes.”

She stared back into his face and found golden flecks in his eyes, the same hue of the diamond. His lips parted as she studied him, and his cheeks flushed. The air suddenly seemed to take on a charge—as though lightning had recently passed through. Was the diamond charmed somehow?

Dear God, such fancies. Here she sat, just waiting to be caught with a duke’s diamond held up to her face. “We’ve found it. Now, let’s get out of here.”

Wesley shook himself gently. “Right. Hand me the orchid, will you?”

The orchid, the orchid. Oh, yes. On the desk.
She rose and retrieved it, finally handing it to Wesley where he knelt in front of the safe. He exchanged boxes—placing the flower into the diamond’s box and vice versa. He put the box now holding the orchid, still opened, into the safe and closed the other box around the gem and slipped it into his pocket. He left the safe open.

“The deed is done,” he said. “Check to see if anyone’s in the corridor.”

Eve tiptoed to the door and pressed her ear against it. When she heard nothing, she opened it a crack and listened again. Finally, she stuck her head outside and glanced up and down the hallway. “No one here.”

“Good,” Wesley said from right behind her.

Eve jumped and turned. Somehow, Wesley had managed to sneak up behind her and now stood no more than a foot away. So close that his breath played over her cheek.

“Don’t do that,” she ordered.

“Do what?”

“Come up on me like that. I don’t like being startled.”

“I’d be happy to explore your likes and dislikes later,” he said. “But right now, we ought to make our escape, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” she said. “Finally.”

He gestured toward the door. “After you.”

Nearly half an hour had passed, and Eve had finally started to feel secure when a cry rang out from the direction of the study. Lady Farnham, the Orchid Thief’s own mother, came running—none too steadily—into the ballroom, clutching her bosom with one hand. In her other hand, she held the white orchid.

“Oh, dear heaven,” she gasped. “Someone help me.”

“Mother,” Wesley cried and rushed to her side. Eve followed. Lady Farnham had obviously stumbled upon their handiwork, and Eve needed to hear every detail the woman had to impart—if only out of morbid fascination at having the theft discovered while she was still on the premises.

Wesley slid an arm around his mother, who leaned in to his chest for support.

“Someone find a chair,” he ordered.

A cluster of blue bloods gathered around Lady Farnham, and one of them produced a seat. Wesley lowered his mother into it, while she fanned herself with the orchid and rolled her eyes as if about to swoon.

“How perfectly ghastly,” she said. “How terrifying. I may never survive the shock.”

“What on earth is wrong, Mother?” Wesley said. “What happened?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” she said, waving the flower in her son’s face. “That dreadful Orchid Thief has been here.”

“Are you sure?” Wesley asked.

“Concentrate, Philip,” his mother said. “I went to the duke’s study, looking for you, and I found this in the duke’s safe. Why would His Grace keep an orchid in his safe?”

An audible gasp rose from the crowd, along with tsk-tsks and loud clucking of tongues. This was probably the most excitement any of them would have all season.

“The duke,” one of the men in the throng declared. “We must inform the duke.”

“Do that, Aldensham,” Wesley said. “And someone bring my mother a glass of sherry.”

“Brandy,” Lady Farnham corrected.

“Brandy!” Wesley declared. “Now, try to calm yourself, Mother.”

“More easily said than done. You didn’t stumble on that dastardly creature. He might have been in the room right before me.” She stopped, and a look of horror crossed her face. “He might have still been there—hiding behind the curtains or somewhere. Ye gods, he might have been watching me.”

Good Lord, the woman was putting herself into a perfect fit. Eve walked to her and took her hand. “Please not to perturb yourself, Lady Farnham.”

“He might have killed me. Struck me dead right on the spot.”

“He’s a thief, Mother, not a murderer,” Wesley said. “Please don’t work yourself into a state.”

“What do you know of the Orchid Thief, Philip? I might have been staring into the blood-red eyes of a killer. Looking straight into the fangs of Death himself.”

“Mon Dieu,”
Eve said, more to shut the woman up than anything. “But you were not so, were you, my lady?”

“No,” Lady Farnham said. “But I might have been. Oh, where is that brandy?”

A footman appeared with a healthy dose of liquor in a glass on a brass salver. The duke came right behind the footman, his face ashen.

“I must inform you all that we’ve been robbed,” the duke said. “This very evening. During the ball.”

Another gasp went up.

“You see?” Lady Farnham declared. “I know when I’ve faced down a ruthless killer and when I haven’t. Oh, it’s all too horrible for words.”

“I’m afraid I’ve had to send for the constable,” the duke said. “I imagine he’ll want to talk to everyone here.”

Not the constable. She’d never had to face the constable before.

Only barely aware of what she was doing, Eve reached out and touched Wesley’s arm. He took her hand in his and smiled ever so faintly, giving an almost imperceptible shake of his head that seemed meant to give her courage. The gesture might have warmed her heart, if his asinine plan to steal the Wonder of Basutoland hadn’t landed them in this mess in the first place. Still, she couldn’t quite bring herself to pull her fingers from the comforting grip of his.

The dowager duchess appeared by the duke’s side, and the family resemblance became immediately apparent. They both looked as though displeasure was their permanent state. Only now, the lady’s expression held some triumph around the eyes, too, as though she found nothing more satisfying than a good catastrophe.

“My wife?” the duke asked his mother.

“Taken to her bed,” the duchess said. “Her maid’s given her a potion.”

“Good,” the duke replied. “We’ll wait for the constable, and then I’m afraid I’ll have to end the ball.”

“Not Chumley,” the duchess said.

“Yes, Constable Chumley, Mother.”

“I won’t have that man in my house,” the duchess said. “He’s an idiot.”

“Unpleasant, but necessary, Mother. Please resign yourself to it,” Kent said.

“Oh, I say, yes,” Wesley agreed. “Nothing better to liven up a party than Chumley and his perturbations.”

Eve pulled her hand from his. Why on earth she’d left it there so long was a mystery. She did her best to glower at him out of the corner of her eye, but he ignored the look.

“Must I really be subjected to an inquisition?” Lady Farnham asked. She took a swig of her brandy. “After everything I’ve been through tonight?”

“So not necessary,” Eve said, bending toward Lady Farnham. “Allow me to escort to home the lady so that she will not be unfortunate.”

“What a dear child. And such good sense, especially for someone from my husband’s side of the family.” Lady Farnham’s eyes narrowed, and she dropped her hand. “Where is the man? This is all his fault. If he hadn’t been discussing those blessed pigs…”

The crowd parted, but not to allow Lord Farnham passage. Instead, a small, odd-looking man appeared, bringing with him the scent of rain and a cold blast of air that somehow clung about his person.

“Well, well,” he declared, twiddling with the end of his mustache. “The Orchid Thief has struck again. Just as I predicted he would.”

“Good evening, Constable Chumley,” the duke said.

“Good evening, Your Grace,” the constable said without even looking at him. Instead, he began a slow circuit of the assembled guests, hands behind his back, looking up into their noble faces. The circle grew ever wider, for each of his examinees took a step backward as he approached.

The man wore a bowler hat rather too far down on his head, and his tweed suit seemed normal enough until you noticed the very loud houndstooth waistcoat beneath the jacket. He stopped right in front of Wesley and craned his neck to look into Wesley’s face. “You found the diamond missing, did you?”

“Not I,” Philip said. “My mother did.”

Chumley turned to glare at Eve next, and one bushy eyebrow went up. “Is this your mother, your lordship?”

Eve laughed. What possible other response could she have to such a ridiculous question?

“I’m his mother,” Lady Farnham said. “I found the safe opened, and I also found this.” She held out the orchid, which she’d reduced to a few torn petals during her earlier fit of hysteria.