Stolen Love (30 page)

"May I see the necklace?" Amelia asked. "She tells me Nicholas gave it to her, Mother." She reached for it. "Why, it's simply enormous."

"He told me it belonged to his mother."

"It ought to have been mine." She spoke in a voice low enough not to be overheard.

"Nicholas was never in love with you."

"After what Henry Villines said, I expect the truth is that he has to marry you. There's no other reason for it. Why, you aren't even pretty, Beth Willard."

Once Amelia would have silenced her with such a comment. No longer. She lifted her chin.

"Nicholas thinks I am, and that's all that matters to me. Now, excuse me, Amelia." Elizabeth walked away.

A few minutes later the gentlemen joined the women, and Henry continued his pursuit of Amelia as soon as he had a drink in his hand.

"Why, Nicholas," said Mrs. Willard when he approached them. "I was just telling Elizabeth how amazed we are at the news."

"We saw no reason to disappoint my grandfather once he expressed his wish for an early marriage." Nicholas took Elizabeth's hand. "I regret to say that I nearly lost her once. I won't take any chances now that she's agreed to marry me." He raised her hand to his lips.

"When were you in danger of losing her?" Mrs. Conmarre asked.

"I nearly lost her to my best friend."

"This sounds promising," Mrs. Conmarre said. "Please, do tell us. I adore a romantic tale."

"I have known Elizabeth since we were children. She has been a confidante and a dear friend in all that time. When she came to London this year, I had not seen her for nearly four years, though we wrote to each other constantly during that time."

"And when you saw her after all those years, you realized you were in love with her?"

"I believe I did. I did not admit I was in love until my best friend told me he had taken my advice and asked Elizabeth to marry him. That was just before I arrived at Witchford Runs, Mrs. Conmarre, and if my grandfather had not seen my state and told me to invite the Willards here, I would have returned to London the very same day."

"And you, Miss Elizabeth, would you have married Mr. Villines's best friend?"

"I think I might have."

"But," Nicholas interposed, "only to escape marriage to someone else. I soon learned that I was not the only man in love with Elizabeth Willard. You can understand why I want her safely married to me. Nothing will suit me better than to have these other gentlemen love her in vain."

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"W
e must examine our evidence, Mr. Wells, logically and objectively." Percy stared at his outspread fingers on the table.

"What evidence? There isn't any." Mr. Wells scowled at Percy. "Sir, I don't see how your list making is doing any good at all. We're no closer to catching the man now than we were six months ago."

"On the contrary."

"Mr. Johns, it's been a month since Lady Lewesfield's emeralds were stolen, and we've still no idea who did it."

"But we do know how it was done. And how the thing was accomplished must necessarily give us a clue as to who might have accomplished it."

"Well then, who was it? Let's arrest the man and have done with it."

"If we move with haste, Mr. Wells, we will only come to regret it. As I said, we must examine our evidence."

"And as I said, sir, what evidence?"

Percy sighed. "Very well, the evidence: we know the emeralds haven't been fenced in London. Assuming for the moment that he has not left the country"—he glanced at one of the lists before him—"they are, therefore, still in his possession."

"And what if he has left the country?"

Percy smiled. "I am confident he has not. No, he still has them. He is waiting us out."

Wells shrugged. "I don't see how this speculation tells us anything we did not know before."

"That is where you are mistaken. We know, Mr. Wells, a great deal more than it seems."

"Such as?"

"Such as, he is strong enough to subdue a man as tall as Arthur Brunswick. Mr. Brunswick is nearly six feet tall himself, you know. From my examination of the lump on the back of Mr. Brunswick's head, our thief must be over six feet, or else has abnormally long arms, a deformity that would not go unnoticed in London Society. Brunswick's impression was that of height and dark hair. Hair color may, of course, be easily disguised, but height is not so easy to hide. And that, Mr. Wells"—he held up one hand—"is as close to a description as we've ever been. Until now, that is." Percy took a sip of his ale. He took pleasure in saving critical information for the last. Mr. Wells was practically pop-eyed with excitement.

"What do you mean, 'until now'?" Mr. Wells leaned forward.

"Today, I learned that someone may actually have seen our thief at Lord Lewesfield's. Miss Lucy Benford-Smith saw a woman leaving the north wing of the house just after midnight."

"The thief is a woman?"

Percy shook his head disapprovingly. "Surely not, Mr. Wells."

"Then you think this woman, whoever she is, may have seen something?"

Percy nodded. "It took Brunswick somewhat longer than a quarter of an hour to free himself—from approximately eighteen or nineteen minutes before the hour until midnight. By the time he was free, the north wing was empty of persons, male or female. The young woman seen by Miss Benford-Smith could only have gained entrance to that part of the house after Mr. Brunswick was unable to perform his duties, and we know she left before he had escaped his bonds. Indeed, Mr. Wells, she may well have seen the thief, though most likely without knowing the significance of what she saw."

"And whom do you think she saw, sir?"

Percy smiled. "If I am correct in my surmise, Mr. Wells, he is no stranger to her. No doubt she thought nothing of seeing him."

"You know who it is?"

"I've known his identity for some time. And Miss Elizabeth Willard will provide me with the proof I need."

"Miss Elizabeth Willard?" Mr. Wells seemed to go limp in his chair. "Well. That's that, then. It will be some time before you can talk to her, and by then the thief will have disposed of the jewels."

"Why do you say that?" Percy looked alarmed.

"Miss Elizabeth Willard was married to Mr. Nicholas Villines not two days ago. They're on a tour of Europe even as we speak."

"Nicholas Villines?" Percy set down his ale with a thump. He was normally a taciturn man, but even Alfred Wells could see the news had astonished him. "Mr. Wells," Percy said, "as I have often said, there is no such thing as a coincidence."

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E
lizabeth was just about to get out of her bath when Nicholas came in. Miss Lincoln blushed a deep red when he did not leave immediately but instead shrugged off his coat and wandered over to the dresser, where he sat down.

"You may go, Miss Lincoln," Elizabeth said.

Nicholas waited until she had shut the door after herself, then he grinned and stood up. "You seem to have been abandoned. Do you need any help?" he asked.

"You might soap my back."

"With pleasure." He unfastened his shirtsleeves and rolled them up to his elbows before bending down to take the soap from her outstretched hand.

As always, Elizabeth felt a shiver of pleasure when Nicholas touched her. He dutifully began to wash her back, but eventually his hands began to move a little more slowly, sliding up and over her shoulders, then down to capture her wet breasts. She leaned her head against his shoulder and reached up to pull his mouth to hers. He nuzzled the side of her neck when she finally released him.

"Do you still love me, Elizabeth?" he whispered in her ear.

"I might," she said.

"You might!" He started to rinse the last of the soap from her. "What can I do to make you sure?"

"Hand me that towel," she said.

He held it up while she stepped out of the tub, then wrapped it around her. "Well?" he prompted.

"Since Miss Lincoln has gone, you'll have to take her place." Elizabeth stood still while he carefully and gently toweled her off.

"What else?" he asked when he was done.

"This." She reached around him for the cream she used. After removing the top, she handed him the bottle.

"And where am I to apply this?" he asked.

"Hmm?" she said. The moment his hands touched her, she shivered. He knew just how to touch her, where to be gentle, where to be firm. His fingers slipped over her, lingering over her waist and stomach before moving down to probe her. She clung to him, pressing herself against him.

"Do you remember now if you love me?" he asked huskily. He reached behind him to turn the dresser chair, then sat down, pulling her with him.

"I seem to remember that I do," she said. He was fumbling with the buttons of his trousers, and while she leaned to kiss him, she pushed his hand away to unfasten the buttons herself. His mouth under hers was hungry, and when her fingers found him, he held the back of her neck to bring her closer. She shifted, and when he was inside her, he slowly moved his fingers down her back, finally sliding his hands around her hips to hold her.

"How do you like Paris?" Nicholas murmured sometime later.

"Very much," she answered lazily. She stood and stretched, not taking her eyes off him. "What would Chester say if he saw the state of your clothes?" she admonished.

"He would think my wife is as wanton as they come." He rearranged his trousers, then rose. "Shall we go out for dinner?"

She nodded. "If you will help me dress."

"Well, if you must get dressed…" He watched her walk to the commode and pull out her underthings, taking them dutifully when she held them out. "Would you be too disappointed if we went back to London sooner than we planned?" He asked as he was tying the laces of her corset.

"Of course." She turned to face him. "Why do you ask?"

"I've had a letter from Grandfather. He wants me to try to make Henry into a decent gentleman. He can ask that of me now I'm a respectable married man."

"Must you begin right away?"

"It appears that Henry has managed to insult your cousin. Things had got to such a pass that your uncle felt it would be for the best if they left Witchford Runs before Henry mortally offended them all. Two of his friends arrived not long after your family left, and Grandfather says Henry's done nothing but drink since they arrived. He threw them all out, and now he wants me to go to London and keep an eye on Henry."

"Is it that serious?"

"Apparently so. He also wants me to talk him into seeing a specialist in London. That cough he had is only getting worse."

"Then we had better go."

"Next week."

"Should we wait?"

"I don't see why we should completely disrupt our travels just because my cousin is a sot."

"He's not well, Nicholas."

He sighed. "I know. But I'd rather not go back to England just now."

"We can always come back."

"I suppose so."

"Your grandfather's concern is reason enough."

"It's just that I would rather have you to myself, and when we get back to London, there'll be all manner of things coming between us."

"Nonsense, Nicholas. We ought to leave immediately."

He sighed. "Perhaps you're right."

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"U
ncle Havoc!" Elizabeth threw her arms around him. "I've missed you," she said.

Havoc returned the hug. "I've missed you, too." He held her hand and looked at her. "Are you happy?" he asked softly.

"Yes, Uncle, I am." It seemed strange to be a visitor at Tavistock Square, and for a moment Elizabeth was homesick. She and Nicholas had only arrived from Paris the day before, and Cambridge Terrace simply wasn't home yet; every inch of it bore the stamp of Nicholas.

"Well! My dear Elizabeth!" Mrs. Willard held out her hands. "Come here and let me look at you.

"Good afternoon, Aunt Mary."

"Where is your husband?" Mrs. Willard smiled as though she had said something humorous.

"Nicholas had business to attend to this afternoon. Lord Eversleigh wanted him to check on Henry and get him to visit a doctor. I wanted so much to see you all again. I could not wait until he was free to come with me."

"A great deal happened while you were gone," Mrs. Willard said. "I don't imagine you've heard about Jane Smithwayne?"

"Why, Beth!" Amelia's entrance interrupted Mrs. Willard. "You're back terribly early. Did Paris not agree with you?"

"Oh, indeed it did, Amelia. But Nicholas had business that brought him back sooner than either of us expected."

"What a pity. Only a two-month tour of Europe. Imagine that." Amelia turned to her mother. "Have you told her yet?"

"Told me what?" Elizabeth inquired.

"Why, only that Mr. Latchley and I are engaged to be married."

"Engaged? Well! You must be very happy, Amelia."

"I am." She held out a hand to display a large diamond. "He gave this to me. Isn't it simply enormous? We plan a five-month tour of Europe, at least, so you will have to tell me what places to see."

"It's very beautiful," Elizabeth said after she had dutifully examined the ring. "Now, what were you going to tell me about Jane?" she asked her aunt.

"Only that she and Mr. Rutherford are practically engaged."

Elizabeth smiled broadly. "Jane and Ripton? Why, that's wonderful news."

Amelia sat down. "Quite a lot happened while you were gone," she said, dismissing the subject of Jane with a wave of her hand.

"Oh?"

"The police have been questioning simply everyone about the Mayfair Thief. They even asked us questions again."

"Why?"

"They wanted to know if we'd seen anything unusual at Lord Lewesfield's ball. And I said, other than one or two gentlemen who'd had too much champagne, I saw nothing unusual at all. Do you know, they even questioned Beaufort."

"Mr. Johns was quite anxious to talk with you, Elizabeth," Mrs. Willard put in.

"Was he?"