Let Me Be The One (52 page)

"The pearls, I think. The ones
la jeune fille
should have worn this evening."

Elizabeth turned and slipped between the press of bare shoulders and glittering throats. She could see neither the ambassador nor Battenburn, but it made no difference to the purposefulness with which she moved through the crowd. With her back turned to Louise she risked a small smile, pleased that the deviation to the baroness's plan was precisely as she and North had expected.

Calling no special attention to herself that would make someone think she required assistance, Elizabeth continued unescorted into the entrance hall. She was narrowly caught in conversation by Northam's mother but managed to avoid eye contact and went on as if she had not seen the dowager countess.

The library was best approached through the gallery rather than the hall. This had not been Louise's instruction, but the advice of the colonel and North. For once the opposing influences in her life were guiding her toward the same destination, albeit with different ends in mind.

Elizabeth did not expect to find the long gallery deserted, and it was not. The Marquess of Eastlyn was there with Lady Sophia. His head came up over the back of a sofa; hers popped up a moment later. Elizabeth averted her eyes, but she was spared neither East's devilish grin nor Sophie's flushing features. There was a small squeak—surprise? protest?—as East ducked behind the sofa and pulled Sophie with him.

Elizabeth hurried to the opposite end of the gallery and through the double doors that led directly to the library. The room was a third the size of the gallery but consisted of two levels. A narrow spiral staircase led to a balcony that ran along the perimeter of the room and allowed every inch of the walls to be given over to shelves. It was indeed an impressive collection of books, but Elizabeth did not stop to admire them. Louise had been particular to stress that it was the ambassador's private library that she was to find, and now she ran her hands along the shelves to the right side of the ambassador's desk.

The spring that opened the concealed door sounded very loud to Elizabeth. There immediately followed another sound, but whether it was her stirring or an echo of the spring she couldn't say. Still, she paused, glancing over her shoulder, half-expecting to see that Eastlyn and Sophie had followed her into the room. There was no one. No head appeared from behind the sofa that faced the fireplace. No one moved on the balcony above her. She slipped inside the smaller room but did not close the shelving behind her. The ambassador's private library had no windows. The only light she had came from the lamps burning in the adjoining room.

The cases of jewelry were just where Louise had told her they would be. Lady Battenburn's sources were accurate in this regard, and Elizabeth wondered anew at the number of people Louise had at her disposal to take on an enterprise such as this one.

Among the velvet bags and cases, Elizabeth found a pearl rope, a choker, and a necklace consisting of three strings, all perfectly matched. She chose the choker, laid it on the arm of the room's sole chair, and returned the empty case. She began to reset the books in place in the same order in which they had been removed. Curiosity niggled at her as she ran one finger along the embossed leather spine of the book she held. She resisted at first, rather pleased she could do so, then surrendered to the impulse because she knew the opportunity would never present itself again.

She opened the book randomly and held it up so the shaft of lamplight allowed her to view the page. Expecting to struggle with her schoolroom French or worse, Latin or Greek, Elizabeth was amused to see that she had opened the book to a pair of illustrations. It took another moment to recognize what she was seeing. Her mouth parted on a soundless O. She turned the book a little to the right, tilting her head at the same time. Then the left. The two cleverly entwined couples seemed to rock with the motion. Elizabeth's eyes widened fractionally. Were such positions even possible? How did the woman get her leg...? And the man... surely no man was so...

She slammed the book closed and hastily replaced it. Why, the ambassador from France was... well, he was...
French.
Heat flushed her complexion and when she dropped the choker between her breasts and felt it settle there, the pearls were decidedly cool against her skin.

"Elizabeth?"

She stilled, her hand raised in midair. Her heart slammed hard in her chest, and for a moment she could only hear a steady roar of blood thrumming in her own ears.
Please,
she thought,
let this all not be for nothing.

"She's in there."

Northam's head swiveled in the direction of the voice. Battenburn stood beside the fireplace, his elbow resting on the mantelpiece. His index finger was raised rather negligently and pointed toward the narrow opening in the shelves. "In there?" North glanced at the odd angle of the shelves. "That's a door?"

"Of sorts," said Battenburn. "There is such an arrangement in my own library. Did you see it when you were my guest this summer?"

North shook his head distractedly. "Elizabeth?" he called again. There was no answer. "Are you certain she's in there?"

"Very. I watched her go in."

Walking toward the wall of books, North said Elizabeth's name a third time. The shelves began to swing toward him and North stopped. Elizabeth appeared in the opening. Her face was remarkably pale, and he did not miss the tremor in her hands before she hid them by crossing her arms in front of her. "What is that place?" North asked, trying to see past her.

"A book room," she said, shrugging. "The ambassador's private reading room, I imagine. There is a room like it at Battenburn. Did you—"

Raising his hand, North cut her off. "So I've heard," he said. "And no, I haven't seen it. What were you doing in there? Louise said you were not feeling the thing and came this way to find quiet."

"I—I was..." She touched her temple, closing her eyes a moment. "A headache. Nothing more. The ballroom was crowded. I could abide the chatter no longer."

Battenburn chuckled deeply. "Elizabeth, m'dear, he does not look convinced. In his place, I would be the same. Perhaps the truth will serve you better."

Her eyes swiveled to Battenburn. He was tugging lightly on the sleeve of his satin frock coat so that the material was smoothed along the line of his arm. Fastidious, she thought, even now. It lent him an aura of unconcern. She could not find the wherewithal to present the same demeanor. "Why are you here?"

"To stop you," he said. "Louise said I was foolish, that you would not risk so much by attempting anything tonight, but I entertained certain doubts."

North looked from Elizabeth to Battenburn and back again. "What is he saying precisely? What is this about, Elizabeth?"

She did not respond to her husband but looked pleadingly at Battenburn. "Do not do this thing," she said softly. "It is not necessary."

Battenburn shrugged and adjusted his coat a second time. "Show him what you have, Elizabeth. Tell your husband who you are." When Elizabeth did not move, or change the set of her mouth, Battenburn began walking toward her. "You did not put it back, did you?"

She pretended not to understand. "What?" she asked weakly. "Put what back?"

"Whatever you took. It is still on your person, is it not?"

Elizabeth recoiled as Battenburn stretched an arm toward her. Almost without thinking, her own hand lifted protectively to her breast.

North took a single step forward. "Do not touch her, Battenburn. Do not lay a hand on my wife."

Battenburn's arm wavered, then dropped slowly to his side. "Show him, m'dear. Louise and I cannot protect you from him forever, not when you are so reckless."

"Elizabeth?" A crease appeared between North's dark brows. "I confess, I am losing patience with this. Explain yourself." When she did not move, he advanced on her. With no warning of his intentions, he caught her shoulder in one hand and curled his fingers in the lowest point of her scooped neckline, just at the point where her own hands sheltered her breast. "What do you have there?"

Tears rimmed her lower lashes. All of her trembled beneath his hold. "Please," she whispered. "I can explain."

Northam did not wait any longer. His fingers clipped inside her ivory gown. He felt Elizabeth suck in her breath and the hammering of her heart and then the very thing she seemed to be protecting. North slowly pulled the pearls from between Elizabeth's breasts. The choker folded smoothly in his palm. He said nothing, merely regarded the tightly strung pearls and the unbroken silver clasp.

Elizabeth stared at North's open palm, watching his long fingers close slowly over the pearls. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

North said, "Since you are still wearing your mother's diamonds, I can safely assume this choker is not yours." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Well?"

Battenburn hitched a hip on the ambassador's desk and crossed his arms. "It should be plain enough, Northam. She stole it. She can't help herself. Tell him, Elizabeth."

North waited and Elizabeth's silence damned her. "He's speaking the truth? You stole this?"

Her nod was almost imperceptible.

Battenburn's clear blue eyes remained steady on Elizabeth, but it was to Northam that he spoke. "She's been about it for years. Her father couldn't manage her, and Louise and I have had so little success that we do not congratulate ourselves. She is the Gentleman Thief, Northam. She'll tell you herself when she recovers her wits."

"The Gentleman Thief?" North shook his head. "You most definitely jest, Battenburn. I have to help my wife negotiate the stairs on occasion because her hip troubles her. It is well known the Gentleman can enter a home from an attic window. Pray, tell me the purpose of this."

Battenburn's expression did not change. The heel of one satin pump beat a light tattoo against the desk leg. "No jest, I'm afraid. Think back, Northam. She stole Lord Southerton's snuffbox. Of course, Louise and I insisted that she replace it and devised the treasure hunt to make it possible. We felt she was so dangerously close to being caught that Louise created a story to remove suspicion from her."

Elizabeth shook her head. Her eyes implored North. "He is lying. Louise pretended her own necklace was stolen to remove suspicion from herself."

North's gaze narrowed fractionally. "But you knew it was a pretense," he said uncertainly.

"I—I knew she had—"

Battenburn interrupted with a long-suffering sigh."Elizabeth could not permit Louise to have the last word. She stole my wife's necklace and placed it in your trunk."

"That's not true, North," Elizabeth said. "I swear it."

Northam dangled the choker between his thumb and forefinger. "Explain this, Elizabeth."

She looked to Battenburn for help. "Tell him why I do it," she said sharply. "Tell him that you ordered me to take it."

Battenburn's features were pitying. "Elizabeth," he said gently, "you are overwrought. Replace the necklace and we will speak no more of it."

"Replace it? But you sent me—"

North took Elizabeth's wrist and forced her clenched fist open. He placed the choker in her palm. "Put it back. Now. Before someone comes."

Elizabeth drew back her hand as if to pitch the pearls at him. Before she could complete the throw, Battenburn's arm snaked out and stopped her. Elizabeth made a grave attempt at dignity when her instinct was to recoil. "Release me," she said quietly. This time it was her husband to whom she applied for aid."They are lies, North. I cannot say it plainer than that. If I am a thief then it is what he has made me."

Lord Battenburn did not wait to be ordered to let Elizabeth go. He did so of his own volition, watching the effort North made to reveal so little of his thinking. The strain was there, though, in the tightness around his mouth and in the iron lock he had on his jaw. Battenburn stepped back, removing himself from the threads of tension between husband and wife. "I think, Elizabeth, that your husband is already well on his way to believing me. Is that not the way of it, Northam? I collect that you have had some suspicion about our Elizabeth."

Northam chose not to respond to Battenburn's observation. What he did instead was point Elizabeth to the adjoining room. His manner brooked no further argument.

Clutching the choker, Elizabeth spun on her heel and quickly disappeared into the ambassador's private library. North and Battenburn followed and watched her from the doorway. Battenburn imagined any lingering doubts Northam possessed were disappearing as Elizabeth managed her task with an economy of motion that spoke of skill and familiarity.

North stepped aside to let Elizabeth pass into the larger room and closed the panel of shelves behind her. It slid into place almost soundlessly. The fit into the wall was seamless. He regarded the rows of books for a moment before turning on Battenburn. "What is to be done?" he asked with a certain weariness.

Battenburn ignored Elizabeth's short gasp at what was essentially her husband's betrayal. With those few words Northam had chosen one of them over the other. The baron answered in the same tired vein, communicating clearly his own worn spirit. "It is a matter of protecting her from herself," he said. "And it is becoming increasingly difficult. She slips away at a moment's inattention. You must have seen that for yourself. Now that she is married and firmly set in society, Louise and I have despaired that anything can be changed. Rosemont has long ago given up and all but disowned her."