Lord Scoundrel Dies (23 page)

He raised an eyebrow and held out a hand. It
took her a moment to realise that he was asking to see the things
she had brought along. It was, after all, the reason he had
arranged for this rendezvous. Carefully, she slipped her reticule
off her wrist and dug the second bag out of the pocket of her
cloak, passing both to him. Despite the fact that the lights were
dimmed, there was a partially shuttered lantern at his left
shoulder, which cast enough light for him to see whatever he held
in his hands, if he did not have to examine them too closely.
Digging into her reticule, he produced the jeweled pin and studied
it. It was one of the few items of jewelry that was yet to be
identified.

Tilting his head towards her, he murmured.
‘I believe this is Lady Mountford’s.’ Next he drew out the heavy
golden torque. It was an unusual design, its style vaguely
Egyptian. For a time he said nothing, merely turning it over in his
hands. Then he leaned towards her once again. ‘Belongs to Silas
Babbitt.’

‘But it is a woman’s necklace, surely?’

‘Indeed. It belonged to his wife but she
died last month. I will return it to him.’ And he slipped it into
his pocket.

So it went on. Charlie had been quite
correct; being a man who was very much out and about and
surprisingly observant, Lord Talisker proved to be very good at
identifying what they could not. There were only five pieces of
jewelry that she had been at a loss to return to their rightful
owners but after only a short time she knew them all.

‘You are far more knowledgeable than Mr.
Lampforth,’ she murmured grudgingly when he handed back her
reticule.

‘That
is
a comfort,’ he returned
softly.

He began on the next bag that held the
papers that spoke of a host of indiscretions. After several
moments, she saw him shake his head. ‘It is too difficult to read
them. I will take them with me and look through in a better
light.’

She gave him a suspicious glance. ‘You will
not lose them?’

‘Burn them, you mean? Not
when you are so set on returning them to their owners. You could
let
me
do that,
you know.’

She was silent a moment. There was no doubt
that Lord Talisker was far better placed than she was to return
many of the things where they belonged but she was not inclined to
dismiss her responsibilities so lightly. ‘You did not want to take
on this task,’ she told him softly. ‘And it is most unfair of me to
expect you to do so. You have already done far more than I
expected.’

‘Yes, but your expectations of me are so
low,’ he complained. ‘I would feel far easier if you would allow me
to relieve you of this burden.’

It was a generous offer, but even so… ‘We
could compromise.’

‘We could?’

‘Yes. I could deal with the females and you
could deal with the males.’

She could feel him hesitating. ‘I suppose
that would be acceptable,’ he allowed finally.

While the audience broke into applause and
the lights came up, she turned her head and smiled at him.
‘Thank-you, my lord. I had not expected that you would be a man
familiar with compromise.’

‘Once again, let me hark back to your poor
opinion of me. And I admit, it goes against my better judgment,’ he
muttered wryly. ‘But I suppose I should be grateful that you are
letting me assist you at all.’

This startled her. ‘Am I so difficult,
then?’

‘Oh Miss Honeywood,’ he said in mock
sadness, ‘a gentleman would never say any such thing.’

A gentleman might not say any such thing but
they could certainly imply it, she thought with an inward shake of
the head. The wretch.

While he went to procure drinks for his
impromptu party, both Sarah and her aunt turned to give Harry a
searching look.

‘What were you two whispering about?’ Sarah
demanded avidly.

‘Nothing in particular. The play.’

Once again, her aunt was eyeing her with
that peculiar air of calculation that could not help but make Harry
uneasy. ‘Do you know, my dear Harriet, I really do think that you
have fixed his interest. Quite extraordinary. It seemed so the
other night but of course it is difficult to judge under such
conditions but tonight… well, I think tonight proves it.’

‘Proves it?’ Harry repeated weakly.

‘He has clearly displayed a partiality, my
dear. Your mother is going to be delighted.’

‘Really, Aunt Margaret,
there is no need to tell Mama anything until… until we are
absolutely sure. I mean, Lord Talisker has a reputation of being
fickle. He will probably change his mind about me and it would be a
pity to raise Mama’s hopes.’ Losing a viscount would be a disaster
and she would not hear the end of it for years. Harry did
not
want her mother to
know about his lordship.

‘Goodness child, Talisker is not fickle.
That’s the reason the entire world has been trying to secure his
interest for these past seven years or more. He’s as steady as a
rock,’ her aunt replied tartly. ‘Really Harriet, I do not believe
you understand how lucky you are. He is everything that a young
woman might want.’

‘And so very, very good looking,’ Sarah
added, a little wistfully.

It was true, of course. And
if, in the normal course of events Lord Talisker actually
had
been interested in
her, then perhaps she would have been dutifully grateful for her
good fortune. But Talisker was not going to make an offer for her.
And when this unexpected affair was over, it was doubtful that she
would see him frequently so her aunt’s hopes were doomed to
disappointment. Not that she could tell her that. Actually, there
was nothing she could say, because trying to downplay the situation
was simply not going to work.

‘I need the retiring room,’ she sighed, more
to escape any further discussion on the subject than because she
actually did need that room. Rising to her feet, she hurried from
the box, almost colliding with his lordship who was returning,
followed by a footman carrying a tray. Lord Talisker arched an
eyebrow.

‘Leaving so soon?’

‘I will be back shortly,’ and then, more
quietly. ‘Can you not do something to quell my aunt’s
aspirations?’

‘Such as?’

‘Oh
I
don’t know. Imply that I am just a
passing fancy. Tell them how you will not be ready for marriage for
years, yet,’ she returned crossly. ‘Anything that will not make
them treat me as a social pariah when we are no longer sneaking
around together.’

‘You make it sound so tawdry.’

‘And you are… are far too flippant!’ And she
pushed past him, all but stamping her feet in frustration as she
went.

All right for him! No ill wind would come to
dog his footsteps the moment he turned his attention elsewhere
while I must suffer my aunt, and quite possibly Sarah as well,
prating on about how I did not do enough to keep such an eligible
suitor at my side. Men can be so irritating!

Naturally there was a line
of females waiting to use the retiring room. There always was at
such events. As Harry’s need was not pressing, she was about to go
for a little wander before returning to the box when she spied none
other than Olivia waiting in line.
Last
in line. Harry surged forward,
cutting off a middle-aged matron who gave her a look that would
have curdled new milk. Harry smiled at her sweetly before turning
her attention to the girl in front of her.

‘Miss Messingham. How nice to see you
again?’

Olivia turned and glanced at her. It took a
moment for recognition to flower in her eyes and Harry waited
patiently, wondering if the girl had issues with her memory or if
she herself was just very forgettable.

‘Oh, Miss… Honeywood? How nice to see
you.’

‘Are you enjoying the performance?’ Harry
inquired brightly, wondering if she could possibly slip the
bracelet in the girl’s own reticule without her noticing. Miss
Messingham seemed so vague that it might actually be possible.

Olivia gave a small, offhand shrug. ‘I
suppose so. I don’t really like plays. I prefer something with
music.’

So much for Shakespeare. If
only he had put the Danish tragedy to song. The line inched
forward. Suddenly, a rather bold plan came to mind. Harry examined
it from all angles but could not see a flaw in it.
If
she managed it
correctly. She opened her reticule and took out the bracelet,
holding it carefully. The jeweled eyes of the two serpents winked
up at her and she blew out a breath. All the jewelry they had
discovered had been stolen by Lord Sutton, presumably lost by the
owners so there could be no danger in claiming to have found one of
the pieces. Not if she only did it once. It would, she
acknowledged, look very peculiar if she went round claiming to have
found all the missing pieces but she had no intention of doing
that. It was just that Olivia Messingham seemed such a difficult
creature to get close to.

She cleared her throat. ‘Miss
Messingham?’

The girl turned towards her again,
expression abstracted. ‘Are you enjoying the performance?’ she
asked, rather belatedly. Harry’s mother – or even her aunt – would
have had a thing or two to say about Olivia’s lack of social
graces.

‘Yes, but… I had heard that you lost a
bracelet a few weeks ago?’ Harry hadn’t heard anything of the kind
but then, she probably wouldn’t have, not being part of Miss
Messingham’s usual circle. She could imagine how that had happened
for the girl was singularly vague. Her words seemed to have found
their mark, however for all at once, Olivia stiffened.

‘A… bracelet?’

‘Yes,’ Harry looked at her doubtfully. ‘I am
not sure who told me but I found one a few days ago and I have been
carrying it around, hoping that it was yours.’

‘You found my bracelet?’ The words were
barely audible.

‘Well, if it is yours. A pair of serpents
entwined tog –’

‘Yes!’ Immediately, the air
of languid indifference dropped away from the girl and she reached
out to slide cold fingers around Harry’s wrist. ‘Yes, I
did
lose such a bracelet.
Did you really find it?’

With one wrist held in an almost painful
grasp, Harry held the bracelet up with the other. ‘Is this it?’

For a moment Miss Messingham went so pale
that Harry thought she was going to faint. Fortunately she did not,
instead drawing a deep, deep breath. ‘Aahhh…’

‘I’m sorry,’ Harry murmured, handing it
over. The talons encircling her wrist were withdrawn and she rubbed
the place that Miss Messingham had gripped her. She had quite
likely left a mark her fingers had been so tight. ‘I had hoped to
see you earlier. You must have been wondering where you lost
it.’

The girl looked at her quickly and a flush
mounted her pale cheeks, which at least brought a little color back
into them. ‘Yes,’ she agreed, moistening her lips. ‘Yes, I was.
Where… where did you find it?’

Where had she found it? Harry thought
quickly. ‘In the park. It was the strangest thing. I was sitting on
a bench when I saw something winking intriguingly at me from one of
the garden beds. I was curious enough to look and... there it
was.’

‘Oh,’ It seemed that some of the dreadful
tension that had been gripping the girl leeched away. Olivia
Messingham shook her head and gave a wan smile. ‘I admit, I was
worried it was lost forever. And I knew my parents would be so
cross if they discovered that I’d misplaced it as it was a gift,
you see.’

‘Of course,’ Harry assured her quickly,
relieved to be done with it. It had been an awkward meeting but at
least it was over and she had one less thing to deal with. If Lord
Talisker really was taking responsibility for returning some of the
things then hopefully it would all be done in a matter of days and
she could get back to the pleasures of the Season. Although she
suspected that they would not be nearly as invigorating as the past
few days had been.

‘Thank you so much, Miss Honeywood,’ Miss
Messingham murmured again with what appeared to be very genuine
gratitude.

Harry gave her a reassuring smile. ‘I am
only sorry it took so long.’ She made a show of glancing at the
line ahead. They had moved perhaps five feet during their
discussion. ‘Do you know, I think I might return to my seat? I
don’t think I need to retire, particularly and the play is about to
begin again.’ And with another smile, she slipped out of line and
returned to Lord Talisker’s box.

He was waiting for her, along with Sarah and
her aunt. The lights had just dimmed again and she took her seat
beside him again, accepting the glass that was passed to her with
thanks.

‘Lemonade,’ he murmured.

She took a grateful sip,
relishing the sweet coolness, pleased that her boldness had paid
off so well. Olivia Messingham had momentarily looked on the edge
of tears (which would have been awkward as Harry was dreadful with
emotional outbursts). Even so, the poor creature must have been
fretting about the loss of her trinket for days, wondering where it
could be, wondering what she should say when her mother asked after
it. Harry recalled the state that Sarah had worked herself up to
when she had lost possession of the Astley necklace and she
had
known
where
the wretched thing had gone. Olivia probably believed that she
would never see her bracelet again.

Harry shot his lordship a mischievous smile,
suddenly overcome by the urge to share her success. She leaned a
little closer to him. ‘I returned Miss Messingham’s bracelet.’

Turning his head, he bent towards her,
giving her an enquiring look. It brought his face close to her own
and she felt the warm touch of his breath against her cheek. A
curious sensation started up somewhere beneath Harry’s breastbone,
a kind of tightness coupled with a warmth that flooded through her
with all the heat of a nip of brandy. Perhaps she was coming down
with something?