The Theft Before Christmas (2 page)

The door opened, and she looked up to see a man in full military dress that looked rather like Captain Dryden’s, but this unfortunate man could never measure up to his friend's personal appearance. Not that anyone could. Everyone acknowledged that Captain Dryden was the most handsome man in the kingdom.

In spite of his extraordinary good looks, Miss Huntington had never had designs upon Captain Dryden—when he'd been a bachelor—which he was until a few months previously. He had always been besotted over Lady Daphne, who was perhaps the kindest, most interesting person Charlotte had ever met—even if she was a bit unconventional.

Curiously, this officer's footsteps halted, and he froze in the doorway. His eyes widened, and he had a quizzing look on his face. He made no further move to come into the room. “Pray, I haven’t had the honor of being introduced to you. I am Colonel Hugh Bond.” He still didn’t budge.

Obviously the colonel had thought to find either Captain Dryden or Lady Daphne, instead of a nineteen-year-old miss. It was also obvious that he had no desire to be alone in a chamber with her. Which was utter silliness. Why, this man was old enough to be her father. Granted, his hair wasn’t gray like her father’s, and his stomach was considerably flatter than Papa’s.

It wasn’t as if she was likely to carry on an improper assignation with an old man like him. (Not that she had ever had the opportunity to carry on an improper assignation with
any
man. Young. Old. Handsome. Ugly. Low born. High born. More’s the pity. No man had ever desired an assignation with her—proper or improper.)

She got to her feet and came forward. “I am Miss Charlotte Huntington. My parents are close friends with Lady Daphne’s family. She requested that I deliver you this letter from the captain."

He took the letter, unfolded it, and quickly read its contents, then looked up at her, nodding. "Please convey to Captain Dryden my pleasure at being invited to Addersley Priority. I shall be honored to spend Christmas with Lord Sidworth’s family. When do they leave?”

“We’re going to leave as soon as you’re ready.”

His brows elevated. “You’re to be one of the group?”

“Yes, my parents are in Russia this Christmas.”

His eyes rounded. “Do not tell me your father is Sir Richard Huntington, the ambassador!”

It always pleased her when someone recognized who her father was. She smiled brightly. “Indeed, he is. Do you know him?”

“I was posted at the Hague when he was on a diplomatic mission there.” He glanced toward the front door. “My man tells me you did not come in a coach?”

“Your man’s correct.”

“Then you must allow me to convey you back to the Dryden’s house in mine. If you’ll just wait a moment for my man to pack a bag.”

“Thank you, Colonel.” She was not as comfortable walking in Chelsea as she’d been in her parents' much nicer Mayfair neighborhood. She wondered if it ever bothered Lady Daphne that not only her social station went down when she married the handsome captain, but so did her address.

"Very good," he said. "I shall go set things in motion."

It only then occurred to her that there was no Mrs. Bond. The colonel must be a bachelor. Which meant. . . oh, no! She could feel the color drain from her face. Mama would surely have apoplexy if she knew Charlotte had stepped inside an unmarried man's house without benefit of a chaperone.

* * *

Jack had been to Carlton House many times since that first day he'd come there straight from the Peninsula, a fish out of water convinced some sort of mistake had resulted in his mysterious summons. Now he'd not only been a frequent visitor to this London residence of the Prince Regent but also to his exotic pavilion in Brighton. Now Jack was recognized by many of the Life Guards who protected the monarch's homes. And now the Regent and he had developed a curious partnership.

A year ago, Jack would never have believed that he, a mere captain in the Dragoons—as he was then—and the second son of a gentleman farmer, would be a confidant of the Regent. Not only a confidant, but someone the Regent needed.

Though Jack was prepared to show the Regent's letter to the sentries who guarded the gates to Carlton House, they saluted Jack and waved him and Daphne in. The classical
house
was a great deal larger than houses Jack was used to. He and his wife trod over green granite floors that had been polished to look as if they were covered by glass and approached one of a pair of symmetrical Roman balustraded, curving stairs that would take them to the Regent's chambers.

Before they reached the staircase, another of the Life Guards addressed them. "His Royal Highness has asked that Cap'n and Mrs. Dryden come to his private saloon. I'll show ye the way."

Like the other soldiers specifically selected to serve at the Capital's most prestigious address, this fellow was tall and good looking. Not that Jack gave particular attention to how men looked, but the Regent—while being distinctly heterosexual—was a noted aesthete. Everything that surrounded him must be of the finest quality and the best visual appeal possible. His wild spending had always been a source of consternation in Parliament, which had to dedicate funds to him via the Civil List.

"Dearest," Daphne said, "have you ever been to the Regent's saloon before?"

"No. Have you?" They began to mount the stairs on the heels of the youthful soldier.

"Once. Before I met you."

Two more uniformed sentries stood on either side of the double white doors to the second-floor saloon. When those doors swung open, the first thing Jack observed was the Regent sitting in a wide chair that resembled a modest throne. On this day, he was not wearing his regimentals—for which Jack was thankful. Jack had always been proud of his uniform, but seeing the gargantuan monarch stuffed into one so similar to his own—with considerably more dangling metal—diminished the effect.

Today the Prince Regent wore an impeccably tailored black frockcoat over a fine ivory linen shirt and freshly starched cravat. His silk waistcoat was purple. The Regent's lower body was somewhat hidden by a table which was placed a few feet in front of him.

As Jack peered at his bloated monarch, he found himself wondering if the man wore a wig. Why had his coppery hair not turned gray at all when he was more than fifty years of age?

A row of tall windows provided this white room with as much light as Jack had ever seen at Carlton House. Even on a gray winter day like this, this room was relatively bright and cheerful.

It was also elegantly furnished in the French style.

He and Daphne approached their monarch, Jack offering a bow while his wife curtsied.

"Good of you to come," the Regent mumbled.

As if we had a choice.
Jack continued standing at attention.

"Please, Lady Daphne, Captain Dryden, I beg that you sit down."

Daphne moved to a sofa that was upholstered in green and pale gold satiny looking stripes and sat down, and Jack sat beside her.

From the troubled look upon the Regent's face, Jack knew this was to be one of those visits when he would be charged with solving a problem that confronted their monarch. "How can we be of assistance to Your Royal Highness?" Jack asked.

"This is as bloody bad as anything I've ever asked of you." The Regent's gaze swept from Jack to Daphne. "I shall need both of you and all the cleverness you possess."

"You shall have it," Daphne said stridently.

Jack kept silent. To answer in the affirmative would mean he thought himself clever, and even if he did, it wasn't the thing to toot one's own horn.

How could this problem of the Regent's be worse? The first time they had assisted the Regent after his life had been threatened. The next time, the very kingdom was threatened if Jack and Daphne had not found traitors in very high office.

"I didn't sleep all night," the Regent confessed.

He looked as if he hadn't slept.

The Regent sighed. "I don't see how anyone can extricate me from this horrible situation, but if anyone can, I know it would be the two of you. The pity of it is, it's not just me who will be in hot water. I may have jeopardized the entire country."

"I know Your Majesty would never jeopardize our nation." Jack needed to be a calming, rational influence. "Perhaps you should start at the beginning, Your Royal Highness."

His intense gaze connecting with Jack's, the Regent nodded. "As you know, it's vital that we keep Spain as our ally."

Jack nodded. "Indeed it is."

"Four years ago, the Spanish king gifted me with a priceless statue. It was said to have been a model of a larger sculpture Michelangelo planned to do of the Madonna and Child. Because the larger one was never done, it apparently made the small one something of incredible value."

"How small is it?" Daphne asked.

The Regent's pudgy, bejeweled hands separated about a foot, both horizontally and vertically. "Slightly more than a foot in width and in height."

A sympathetic look on her face, Daphne nodded."What's it constructed of?"

"Alabaster."

Jack wasn't sure he actually knew what alabaster was. He'd never been interested in art, but his multi-talented wife would be able explain what alabaster was later. His thoughts racing on ahead, Jack feared the Regent was going to tell them he or a member of his staff had broken the damned statue. Did the hopeful man really think Jack and Daphne could put a crushed statue to rights?

"Go on," Daphne said.

"It was a most generous gift, and it was given in the same way as a contract between our two nations."

A serious look swept across Daphne's face. "It does indeed sound most generous."

"The long and short of this whole tale is that the Michelangelo was stolen last night, and this morning I received a confidential letter from my German cousin, who is close to a particular Spanish official who told my cousin rumors are circulating among the Spanish royals that I sold the Michelangelo."

Jack's eyes widened. "Good lord, that would be disastrous."

"As it happens," the Regent continued, "the Spanish king is coming here for Christmas. On a whim, I invited him some time ago, telling him I make the Michelangelo the center of all my Yule time festivities—for obvious reasons. And it really is quite the most stupendous way to decorate a chamber during this time of year."

"And of course, with its history, it really is frightfully irreplaceable," Daphne said, brows lowered, her spectacles slipping down her nose, her voice full of remorse.

"Are you saying someone broke into this mansion last night while you were sleeping?" Jack did not know how that could have happened, Carlton House being as well guarded as it was.

The Regent shook his head solemnly. "Not at all. It was stolen right under our noses in this very chamber—which happened to be filled with more than twenty people. And not one of us saw it occur."

 Chapter 2

When Miss Charlotte Huntington and the colonel arrived at the Dryden's slender three-story house tucked between two others on a quiet Chelsea street, she was surprised to find that Lady Daphne and her husband had vanished. After knocking for a considerable period of time, Charlotte opened the door.

"The Drydens' servants have already gone on to Addersley Priority," she explained to the colonel. "I suppose it's all right for us to just come on in."

They both stood in the skinny entry hall, listening for sounds that might indicate someone else was there.

Colonel Bond called out. "Captain Dryden?"

There was not a response.

The colonel eyed her, and she shrugged. "I daresay they've had to leave. I'm sure they'll be right back."

"Was their carriage here—in front—when you left? I thought you said they were all ready to go to Addersley."

"Yes, actually. It was in front. I can't imagine why they're not here. Both of them were ready to leave, and the carriage was piled with baggage."

The colonel cleared his throat. "I suppose we might as well find a place to await their return."

"Let's just move on into the morning room." She crossed the wooden hall into the small home's only street-facing, ground-floor chamber. Daphne's duchess sister had decorated this room as a wedding gift to her sister when the Drydens married a few months earlier.

The chamber looked far too elegant for so small a house on a Chelsea street that lacked prestige. Each of the chamber's tall casements was draped with silken draperies in royal blue, and a patterned carpet in the same royal blue featured gold stars.

A multi-tiered gilt table stood between the windows with two gilt chairs covered in blue and gold silk on either side of it. Miss Huntington and the colonel sat in those chairs.

Mama had always impressed upon Charlotte that under no circumstances was she ever to be alone indoors with a man. She had also impressed upon her daughter that men (excepting for Mr. Huntington) were vile, lustful creatures not to ever be trusted. Charlotte cast a furtive glance at the military man who sat just feet from her.

So far, he was behaving in a most gentlemanly fashion. Even if he were one of those vile, lustful creatures Mama had warned her about, he wouldn't be trying to have his way with her when his friend and colleague, Captain Dryden, was due to walk through the door at any moment.

"So, Miss Huntington, do you correspond regularly with your parents?"

"Yes."

They both sat silently. She realized the man beside her was trying to make polite conversation, and her monosyllabic reply was not in the least helpful. "This is their first winter there, and Mama has expressed a strong desire to flee back to England."

He chuckled.

"Have you ever been to St. Petersburg, Colonel?"

"No. Have you?"

"Not yet." She knew how disappointed her parents were that two seasons now she had failed to draw a single suitor. It was only a matter of time before Mama and Papa summoned their spinster daughter to live with them in frigid St. Petersburg. "It was their desire that I stay in London for the Season. Their many friends have been most hospitable about hosting me."