My Lady Scandal (7 page)

He shrugged. ‘We are searching the area thoroughly. I am hopeful that something will turn up. All we need is a little bit of luck…’

An hour later, by design rather than good luck - for Grif was never one to trust anything other than his own arrangements - the Viscount overheard a conversation between the Marriott siblings that he found most interesting. He had caught sight of them slipping away from the crowds, which, as was usually the case with unlimited alcohol and an enormous supply of food, had relaxed enough for the more discreet couples to disappear for a little late evening entertainment. These were married people for the most part or, it should be said, married ladies. Naturally, virginal girls did
not
participate. Those kinds of entertainments could only be discovered after the wedding night and the appearance of an heir.

He had been keeping an eye on Miss. Marriott since they had had their conversation, knowing that, at the first opportunity, she would seek out her brother and warn him to show no sign of his injury. Not that Peregrine had been favoring it particularly, but knowing what he did; Grif knew he would find his mark.

They went out into the garden, slipping through one of the side doors. If he had not been looking for it, Grif would have missed their exit, for they proved to be rather good at disappearing, fading through the crowd to vanish into the shadows. He supposed they had chosen the garden because none but the most enthusiastic would be out there.

The few golden days that had blessed them earlier in the week had disappeared and now it was cold, damp and miserable, a fine drizzle misting the air.

Happily, the Marriotts had not ventured out into the rain, but instead had taken refuge in the orangery at the side of the house. Grif had not opened it for the party as it was too damp to truly enjoy, but they slipped inside with the easy familiarity of people who were used to slipping places and he followed after a minute, moving silently so as not to alert them.

He was late coming in to the conversation, but not
too
late.

‘ – must know. And I do not like it.’

‘Damn,’ Perry muttered, sounding chagrined, ‘I am sure I was not favoring it. Perhaps when I was dancing…’

‘Is it very painful?’ The concern in her voice was immediate. Grif wondered what they had gone through in their lives to have forged such an obvious bond.

Perry gave a snort. ‘Carlisle seems like a nice enough fellow, I will give you that, but he is a dandy; as rich as Croesus and like the rest of them, concerned only with his own amusements.’

‘I think you underestimate him.’

‘Even so; we are safe, Nell. They may hunt around as much as they like, but there is no sign that we were the ones on the road on Tuesday night.’

‘Yes.’ Grif heard the sigh in Nell’s voice. She sounded… tired. ‘Still, it is just as well we have given it up.’

‘True enough. Buck up! You know what Father used to say; a pair of twos can beat a full house any day. It is all how you play your hand. Have you seen anything interesting tonight?’

‘Indeed I have. Two
very
interesting things.’ From his place behind the wall of flowering orchids, Grif’s ears pricked up. It was a relief to know that the two Marriotts had forsworn their life as highway robbers, a profession that was becoming more and more hazardous. But what were they up to now?

‘They did not dare! But they are both such dreadful creatures and so very rude. I will feel positively noble relieving them of their wretched baubles.’

There was a pause. ‘We do not have to do this, Nell. There are options.’

‘Options!’ That one word spoke volumes. ‘And what might they be, pray tell? Leave England, once again? And do what, Perry? Return to the life we once led? We agreed; we are done with it. We have dreamed of this for so long. Happiness… I want a chance at happiness.’

There came a sigh. ‘I know it; very well. But I think you should let me do the taking.’

Nell chuckled. ‘With your shoulder? I think not. Besides, I always could out climb you. Come along now, it is time we were returning to the party and saying our farewells. It feels as if it has been a very long night.’

Grif listened as the pair made their way from the orangery, drawing back into the shadows as they disappeared out the door. He waited for a minute, giving them time to make their way back and then followed, deep in thought.

What to do now? As reassuring as it was that his pretty pair of protégés were no longer haunting the highways, it appeared that they had come up with another plan to fund the restoration of their fortunes.

Chapter Four

Perry considered his sister, with his head tilted a little, trying not to smile. ‘You make such a pretty boy!’

Nell made a face. ‘Would that mean I could wear this garb every day? Why does men’s clothing always seem so much more comfortable?’ Like her brother, she was dressed entirely in black, from her breeches to her coat, which was a little loose to allow ease of climbing. Her hair had been pulled back into a queue at the back of her head, over which she wore a large black kerchief, to conceal its tell tail color.

‘Everything is simpler when you are a man. Or so
Maman
used to tell me.’

His sister chuckled. Their mother definitely had the right of it.

It was a week after the Carlisle ball, a busy week of social calls and evenings out. The two dances and one masquerade ball they had attended had served the duel purpose of solidifying their presence in Society and giving them the chance to know how their first victim, the odious Lady Abbington, would be situated over the coming days.

The news had been good. Lady Abbington was to attend the opera on Friday evening with her husband. They could not be expected to arrive home before eleven.

After much debate, it had been decided that both Perry
and
Nell would do the stealing together. They had but to avoid the servants and find the cache of jewelry, which, Perry averred, would be in the lady’s bedroom. ‘For they always are. Women like Lady Abbington like to keep their pretty things close by.’

At a little past nine they rode out, accompanied by Talbot who would deal with the horses while they were occupied. It was a miserable night but they were glad of the rain, which kept foot traffic on the streets to a minimum.

The Abbington household was located on South Street, immediately across from Hyde Park and it was from the park that the Marriotts approached the large, four-story stone house. Heading around the back, they found a pleasant, surprisingly spacious garden that could conveniently be accessed by a wooden gate in the brick wall. A well-
maintained
gate, as the hinges obligingly did not squeak.

They paused, looking up at the balconies on the second floor. Close by there were several orange trees, a graceful jacaranda and a great many roses, none of which were close enough to the house to be of assistance. There was, however, a pretty trellis that supported a thick green vine that ran up the wall for a good twenty feet, stopping just short of one of the balconies.

‘I will go first. That way if it will not hold my weight, you can catch me.’

‘And who will catch me?’

‘Pray,
try
not to be a ninny! If it feels too fragile then you will not climb it. I can always let you in through a downstairs window.’ Nell was not at all enamored with her brother climbing anything. Thanks to an absurdly robust constitution, his shoulder was healing nicely, but why tempt fate?

He rolled his eyes at her – even in the shadowy dampness, Nell could see him do it – but she ignored him, heading for the trellis. Happily, it had been firmly fixed to the wall and gave no sign of weakness. It was several feet from the ironwork of the balcony, but Nell had no trouble negotiating the distance. In less than a minute, she was over the side and looking down at her brother.

‘Well?’ he hissed.

‘Very well! Come up.’

He joined her and together they stood for a few moments regarding the double doors leading inside. It was locked; Nell removed a hairpin and set to work, ignoring her brother as he complained about the water getting down his neck. When the lock clicked, she turned the handle, just a little and eased open the door.

The room beyond was silent, lit by several candles. By the filmy peignoir laid across a chair, Nell surmised that they had been lucky enough to find the right bedroom. The light was dim, but before the lady of the house returned, a maid would light more candles.

She smiled at her brother. ‘I must say,’ she whispered, ‘this was far easier than that place in Toulouse. Remember that dreadful servant with the breadknife?’

‘Not an image I am likely to forget any time soon. He nearly unmanned me.’

Nell chuckled and they began to search the room.

As Perry had predicted, they discovered Lady Abbington’s finery in a large velvet case in the drawer of a tallboy in her dressing room. The drawer had a lock but once again, Nell employed her hairpin and it surrendered without objection. She opened the case and her breath caught on a slight stutter at the glitter of stones that lit up in the candle that Perry had brought in to assist with the search.

The items they did select were put into a drawstring leather bag, which Perry tucked into the inner pocket of his coat. They shut the case, then the drawer, Nell perversely locking it again with a delicate flick of wrist. The candle was replaced and all that was left to show that they had been there were some slightly damp footprints across the rugs.

Slipping out onto the balcony again, Perry shook his head. ‘That was almost
too
easy!’

‘Do not say that until we are away!’ Nell begged and Perry fell silent. As a true believer in luck, he knew how easy it was to turn it around. He did not say another word until they had rejoined Talbot in the park and were on their way home again.

But really… it almost
had
been too easy.

The missing jewels of Lady Abbington caused quite a sensation over the following days. Carlisle heard about it when he was at his club Brooks when Lord Abbington was huffing and puffing on about it to his cronies.

‘Damned if it isn’t a rum show!’ he expostulated. ‘Thieving beggars took the lot.’

‘How’s Lady Abbington holding up?’ His friend, Mr. Montague enquired.

‘How do you think she’s holding up? Wants me to replace her geegaws immediately, says she has nothing to wear! Damned women; they think a fellow is made of money.’

Which, in this instance, was quite true. With an income of fifty thousand a year, Lord Abbington was swimming in it.

Carlisle listened with interest. To the best of his knowledge, the Marriotts had not had any engagements on Friday night. They were, however, to go to Almacks with Viola that evening – his cousin having procured the necessary vouchers - and he had already decided to attend as well. Even if he had not heard about the theft of Lady Abbington’s jewels, he had been contemplating it. The prospect of spending time in Nell Marriotts company was proving too strong a temptation to resist. He knew that his partiality to the girl had been noted – how could it not be when he had appeared at the same events as she did – and while he would, in the normal course of events, have shied away by now, his desire to see Miss. Marriott had made that a deal more difficult than it should have been.

He could recall, all too easily, how delightful it was when he said something that resulted in that small dimple appearing at the edge of her mouth. He enjoyed the wicked sparkle that lit up her blue eyes when they were dissecting somebody’s character and the way she laughed aloud when something amused her. In the brief ten days they had known each other, they had settled into a swift familiarity that Grif found disconcerting.

Truly, Miss. Eleanor Marriott was quite the most refreshing female he had encountered in all his seven and twenty years and, frankly, he was having a difficult time standing back. This naturally led on to the next question, one that he had been studiously avoiding thinking about for several days; what, if anything, were his intentions towards the lady?

Once again, he postponed giving the question his undivided attention. Grif found himself in a position he had never experienced before. He was…well, the problem was that he did not know
what
he was. Fascinated? Yes. Amused? Most definitely. Enamored? Now that, he was unsure of.