Love and Larceny (19 page)

“I’ll join you,” Sinclair said. “I may know
someone with a keen interest in smugglers.” The two led the
Corinthian out, while the servants went to fetch the other
imprisoned smugglers to add to the group.

Wynn regarded Daphne. “You seem rather
pleased with Mr. Sheridan’s capture.”

Daphne raised her brows. “Most assuredly. I
have no designs on him. He’s a liar, a thief, and a terrible
kisser. Besides, I may be betrothed, but I have no interest in
looking at the cakes on display.”

“Someday you will have to explain that to
me,” Wynn said before kissing her again.

*

It took a while to explain everything to
everyone’s satisfaction. Sinclair and Jamie returned to report that
Mr. Harrop had been discovered at the magistrate’s attempting to
rouse the village to support the manor. The magistrate, who had
been investigating the smuggling ring, was glad to hear that the
foes had been vanquished and accepted the prisoners in hopes of
finally stopping the group’s predations. Lord Brentfield promised
to see the doorway between the hermit’s hut and the house put under
lock and key so no others would be tempted to use it.

By the time everyone had said their good
nights, it was quite early the next morning. Daphne’s mother fell
into step beside her as they climbed to the chamber story for their
beds.

“It seems you have accepted Mr. Fairfax’s
suit,” she murmured as she glided along.

Daphne nodded. “I truly do adore him, Mother.
He is everything I could have wished in a husband.”

Her mother’s mouth hinted of a smile. “That
I’ve known for some time. Forgive me for thinking that I knew
better what you needed.”

Daphne stopped in the middle of the carpeted
corridor and stared at her. “Did you just beg my pardon?”

Her mother arched a brow as she paused.
“Stranger things have happened. Secret passages, a gentleman
falling through the ceiling onto my bed, smugglers at the door, a
female army. Sleep well, Daphne. Tomorrow we must begin planning
your wedding, and I expect we will find a great many more things to
disagree about.”

But nothing important. Priscilla and Ariadne
might fuss about the color of the roses or the flavor of the ices,
but she truly did not care. All that mattered was that Wynn would
be the groom standing beside her.

The next few days flew by, with good humor
restored. There were more rides, more archery contests, more
strolling in the gardens and finding secret grottoes in which to
pledge their devotion. When it came time to say their farewells,
Hannah and David promised to see them again in London in six weeks’
time when it was agreed they would be married, assuming Wynn won
over Daphne’s father, Lord Rollings.

“Though I’m not concerned,” Daphne confided
in Hannah as they took one last turn about the gardens while the
coaches were loaded. “My mother has ever been the difficult one,
and she has decided Wynn can do no wrong. She even agreed to
convince his mother.”

“And so we shall be married,” Ariadne said
with a satisfied sigh on Hannah’s other side. “That means next
Season we shall be the Society matrons.”

Daphne glanced back in time to see Emily
shake her head from where she and Priscilla were strolling right
behind them.

“Not me,” her friend said. “Jamie and I will
rent some place with a room for me to paint. I will receive you
happily at any time, and I think I shall attempt to take over
leadership of the Royal Society of the Beaux Arts. Other than that,
I am done with Society as soon as I am married.”

“But perhaps not done with mysteries,”
Ariadne teased.

Emily turned a pleased pink as Daphne faced
front once more. “I shall be glad to lend my assistance to Jamie’s
work.”

“What of you?” Hannah asked Ariadne. “Will
you retire between now and next April to write a play?”

“A novel, I think,” Ariadne said, eyes
dreamy. “About a dashing intelligence agent and her handsome
escort.”

“And Priscilla?” Hannah asked, glancing
behind.

“His Grace, the Duke of Rottenford, still
requires a bride,” Priscilla reminded them all. “I promised Nathan
I would help. After all, who better to spot a fortune hunter?” She
paused a moment as if thinking. “Hmmm. Perhaps that’s how I’ll fill
my time. There must be other titled gentlemen and ladies in need of
finding the appropriate mate.”

“Matchmaker to the aristocracy,” Ariadne
said. “You would be fabulous.”

“Agreed,” Emily said.

Hannah glanced at Daphne. “And what of you,
my bold Amazon?”

Daphne smiled, looking ahead to where Wynn
was pointing out to Lord Brentfield the features on the manor that
might be improved by a talented architect. “I intend to raise
children and teach them to ride and fence and drive and help their
friends. And I should like to help Wynn’s sisters navigate Society.
They seem a rather timid lot. I’m sure my model would help.”

Hannah gave her arm a squeeze. “You will be
equally fabulous.”

“And we will all get together and share our
adventures,” Ariadne insisted. “This cannot be the end of our
friendship.”

“No,” Daphne told her, warmth building with
her convictions. “I’m sure it’s just the beginning.”

She gave them each a hug, then strode to
where Wynn was waiting.

“Ready?” he asked her.

She beamed at him. “Always.” She leaned
closer. “And if we hurry, we can get far enough ahead of
Mother.”

Wynn grinned. “So you can drive.”

“Yes, and so we might stop for another
kiss.”

Wynn linked his arm with hers. “Have I told
you how very much I love and admire you, Daphne Courdebas?”

“Every day, in a dozen ways,” she assured
him. “I’m only sorry it took me so long to notice, and to tell you
how much I love and admire you in return.”

His skin was turning pink as he bent and
brushed her lips. It was a promise of things to come, a pledge for
a future together. How very fortunate she was to be marrying one of
her best friends.

She took Wynn’s hand, and they hurried for
the carriage. But she thought even without the phaeton, she just
might fly.

*

Ten months later . . .

“Move over,” Daphne urged, shouldering her
way along the stone ledge. At least her evening dress was nearly as
white as the stone. All she could hope was that the fine lords and
ladies exiting Hannah’s crush of a rout would not look up at the
outside of London’s best hotel on their way to their carriages and
spot the two equally fine ladies of Society clinging to the
wall.

“I’m moving as fast as I can,” Ariadne
informed her, gathering her scarlet satin skirts closer. Her sister
still eschewed white for evening, as if having published two novels
to wide acclaim she must be known as a rebel. “This was much easier
when we practiced at the house.”

Ahead, the sash on the window jerked up.
Daphne froze, gripping Ariadne’s hand.

Wynn leaned out, spectacles firmly in place.
“It’s safe. Come in.”

Daphne dropped lightly through the open
window and turned with Wynn to help Ariadne inside.

“Priscilla and Nathan are keeping Count
Vincenzo occupied,” he informed them, striding for the door of an
opulent sitting room. “Cropper is on duty outside the door to
ensure we aren’t disturbed. Sinclair is attempting to open the safe
as planned. Emily will verify the stolen painting the moment we
retrieve it.”

“And you had no trouble slipping away
unnoticed?” Daphne asked as she followed him across the carpet.

“Less than you did,” he assured her. “There
are times it’s rather handy being married to one of London’s most
notorious Amazon’s. No one watches me.”

“Your sisters are ready to take up the
mantle,” she told him as he opened the door to the bedchamber. “Do
you know Clara can ride Hortensia astride?”

“Never tell Mother,” he said with a
laugh.

“Done,” Sinclair declared from the other side
of the room, where a wide oil painting hid the door of a safe. He
swept open the door, and Emily reached in and drew out the
miniature they had come to get.

“Catherine of Aragon,” she said, voice
reverent as she cradled the three-hundred-year-old portrait. “Lord
Hastings will be so happy to see her returned.”

“And I warrant your husband will be equally
happy to have an excuse to arrest the man who stole her,” Daphne
said.

“Another case to your credit, Emily,” Ariadne
agreed.

Emily smiled. “Another case to our credit.
And I have been meaning to mention we have a request from a
Scottish earl to determine why his horses keep disappearing,
despite armed guards and a locked stables.”

Daphne and Wynn exchanged glances.

“When do we leave?” he asked.

*

A short time later, in front of the hotel,
Hannah waved goodbye as her beloved students, now friends, headed
home before starting their next adventure. Beside her, David
slipped his arm about her waist.

“I know that look in your eyes,” he said, his
soft brown hair falling over his brow. “You’ve just managed a
Society event that will be talked of for months, and you’re
planning a painting.”

“I am,” she admitted with a smile. “I tend to
see people as they might appear in paintings, I fear. When I first
met you, I was certain you were meant to be immortalized as King
David.”

He grinned. “Able to slay giants, eh?”

“Ready to dance before the Lord. I think I
fell in love with you from that moment.”

He bent and kissed her, shocking the lady and
gentleman who were passing. “One look at those paint-stained
fingers, and I knew I’d found my match.”

She made a face. “My fingers were not
paint-stained. I was far more careful then. And now, I know just
what to call this painting.”

“Oh?” David asked.

Her smile widened. “And They Lived Happily
Ever After.”

***

Thank you for choosing
Love and
Larceny
. If you have followed our intrepid heroines from the
first book,
Secrets and Sensibilities
, I hope you enjoyed
the ride. If you missed out on any of the books, look for

Secrets and Sensibilities
, Book 1 in
the Lady Emily Capers. When art teacher Hannah Alexander
accompanies her students on a country house visit, she never dreams
of entering into a dalliance with the handsome new owner, David
Tenant. But one moment in his company and she’s in danger of losing
her heart, and soon her very life.

Art and Artifice
, Book 2 in the Lady
Emily Capers. What is Lady Emily’s betrothed thinking to insist on
marriage before her first Season? And why is handsome Bow Street
Runner Jamie Cropper dogging Lord Robert’s steps, and Emily’s? It’s
up to Emily to use her art to uncover artifice and discover whether
Lord Robert has something more up his sleeve than a nicely muscled
arm. Along the way, a duke’s daughter might just form a perilous
passion for a most unlikely suitor.

Ballrooms and Blackmail
, Book 3 in
the Lady Emily Capers. Priscilla Tate is about to wring a proposal
out of the Season’s most eligible duke when a blackmail note
arrives, threatening to expose her secret. If she cannot uncover
the mastermind, will Nathan Kent, the duke’s handsome personal
secretary, no, no, the duke, forgive her for her past?

Eloquence and Espionage
, Book 4 in
the Lady Emily Capers. Bluestocking Ariadne Courdebas never thought
she’d play the heroine in her own romantic novel until a chance
encounter with handsome intelligence agent Jason Sinclair pulled
her into the world of espionage. Can Ariadne use her considerable
eloquence to convince Sinclair to play her hero, forever?

And, if you enjoyed Daphne and Wynn’s story,
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Turn the page for a sneak peek of my novella,
“An Engagement of Convenience,” from
Summer House Party
,
available now.

Blessings!

Regina Scott

Why did they always have to elope at
midnight?

Katherine Chapworth smothered a yawn as she
waited under a neatly trimmed chestnut tree. Hugging her pink
flannel dressing gown to her frame though the summer night was
warm, she kept her gaze on the Grecian folly that marked the edge
of the lands belonging to Chapworth Grange.

It was always the folly, too. No, wait,
Clementia’s besotted beau had attempted to scale a ladder to her
window. How he had thought to carry her down the wooden rungs,
Kitty had never known. In any case, the top of the ladder had
broken the glass, and Clementia’s scream had been enough to wake
the household (and the dead in the churchyard nearby), and Kitty’s
work had been done.

But Clive Bitterstock was a different sort.
He’d been sniffing around her youngest cousin, Lucy, for the better
part of the Season. His family, though not wealthy by any
standards, was respectable. He was said to be prudent, thoughtful.
Very likely Kitty could convince even Uncle to see the young man as
a decent husband for the sixteen-year-old Lucy.

So why elope?

“Circle around the back,” she advised
Bollers, who was waiting with her, and the tall, strapping footman
stalked off to the side of the stone building and began to worm his
way through the shrubs that clustered there. Thank goodness, most
of the staff heeded her requests with respect and deference, for
all she was only at the Grange on her uncle’s sufferance. As the
chaperone for the Chapworth family for a decade, she’d safeguarded
the reputations of all six of her cousins before they’d married.
Once Lucy wed, she’d be done.