Nights in White Satin: A Loveswept Classic Romance

“You what!”

Jill Daneforth stared at her mother in disbelief.

“I sold—sold the necklace,” Caroline Daneforth confessed a second time, in the short version, then wailed copiously. “Your father’s going to kill me!”

“The Daneforth emeralds have been in the family for over three hundred years, and you sold them,” Jill muttered from between clenched teeth, unmoved by her mother’s crying. Caroline had been flighty upon occasion, but this one took the cake. “Of course Dad is going to kill you.
I’m
going to kill you. Mother, where was your brain?”

“But I thought you would all be relieved that I was avoiding a horrible scandal,” her mother replied in her defense. “Roger … I mean Colonel Fitchworth-Leeds said they had been stolen from
his
family by a Daneforth all those years ago. He showed me a photostat of an old letter to King Charles II that told of the incident, demanding justice. It was even notarized. He would have taken us to court, I know it … and the scandal … your father’s image … his law firm … We
would have been laughingstocks. I was so sure it was better to sell the necklace back. I mean, he couldn’t sue us then, could he? He signed the bill of sale. I insisted on that to show he accepted it as a legal purchase.”

Her mother beamed at her cleverness.

“He would have been an idiot to sue,” Jill said. Her mother had taken a pittance for a priceless heirloom, and then tied it up in a nice and probably legal package. Fitchworth-Leeds must have been thrilled to have found such a pigeon to fall for his flimsy story. Red haze obscured her vision for a long unbearable moment. “Why the hell couldn’t you have given him the paste copy Dad had made for you because you wanted to wear the necklace to everything? I’m sure it would even have fooled the Colonel. Until he had it appraised.”

“But Jill, that wouldn’t have been honest!” her mother exclaimed, shocked.

Jill looked heavenward in supplication. “Great, I have Diogenes for a mother. You’ll have to tell Dad—”

“No! He’ll hate me. He’ll never forgive me.”

No kidding, Jill thought, angry all over again with her mother. Still, she couldn’t blame her. Jill wouldn’t want to tell her father either. She watched Caroline take another tissue from the ornate porcelain dispenser on the candlestick table, then lie back down on her chaise lounge. Another fluff amid all the rest of the pink and white fluff of the bedroom—with her mother looking like Camille about to give her last gasp. No wonder some of Caroline’s friends called her “Fluffy Buffy.” Jill might have inherited her mother’s dark hair, gray eyes, and tall, slender build,
eyes, and tall, slender build, but she hadn’t inherited the brain. Lord, she hoped not.

When her mother had called and asked her to come over to discuss something important, the last thing Jill had expected to hear was that the Daneforth emerald necklace was gone in a swindle a four-year-old could have seen through. Still, she couldn’t deny that her mother had acted out of honorable motives. Misguided, but honorable.

It could have been worse, she decided. Her mother could have
not
had second thoughts after the Colonel returned to England. She could blithely have announced her cleverness years from now—when there was no chance of even tracing Colonel Fitchworth-Leeds.

Anger roared through her at the thought of the necklace gone. She stuffed her fists in her pockets to keep from hitting something. Dammit, it had been
her
heritage sold for a song. Her birthright was to receive the necklace, hold it in her care for a time, and then pass it on. She’d never felt so helpless in her life.

“This is all your father’s fault!” her mother suddenly pronounced.

Jill gaped at her.

Caroline nodded vigorously. “If he weren’t so wrapped up in that trust-fund case, he would have been paying more attention to the Colonel and this would never have happened.”

“Mom, even Dad wouldn’t buy that one.”

Her mother slumped in the chaise. “It seemed so right. I thought you all would have been so proud of me for what I’d done to save the family name. What am I going to do? You have to help me, Jill. You’re so sensible, you’ll think of some
thing to get the necklace back.” Caroline began to cry again. “I can’t tell your father. I can’t. He’ll hate me, hell never forgive me, ever …”

Jill cursed under her breath. If her mother had thought the Colonel would have kicked up a fuss, wait until all the families along Philadelphia’s wealthy Main Line got wind of this one. Everyone would be howling with amusement. Her father would be devastated.

That damned Colonel Fitchworth-Leeds had ruined a family, she thought murderously. He’d been charming and suave. Even she had liked him when she’d met him at the Harpers’ party, where he had been guest of honor. She supposed she ought to call the Harpers, humiliating as that would be. Marion Harper had a big and busy mouth, and Jill had no desire to relate the Daneforth disaster to the woman. Who would? She wondered where Fitchworth-Leeds had gotten the British society credentials to achieve legitimate introductions there in the States. She wondered how she could catch a thief.

Not with her background, unfortunately. Having a degree in medieval history didn’t train one for this job. It hadn’t trained her for much of anything—except teaching. For Jill, that ranked about on a par with toenail cutting. After rushing into and out of a marriage, she had found a niche at the Philadelphia Zoo as a volunteer, booking world tours for its members. She had never felt right taking a paying job because of her trust fund—until last month, when the zoo had offered her the prestigious position of director of volunteers. Hart Redding, the current director, would be retiring in August. But much as she liked her
work and loved the animals, it also hadn’t given her the skills to cope with this. About the best she could do was to borrow Webster the lion to sic on the Colonel.…

“Are you thinking of some way to get the necklace back?” her mother asked hopefully.

Jill made a face. “More along the lines of retribution.”

“I’m so sorry,” Caroline whispered. “Jilly, please help me.”

Jill sighed. Her mother might not have the most logical mind, but she had a good heart. She remembered how Caroline had staunchly supported her after her disaster of a marriage ended. Jill owed her mother for that one. She wanted so badly to have the necklace back and make the Colonel pay, she could taste it. There had to be something she could do.…

Jill blinked. She might not know the something to do, but she did know the someone. A wonderful someone who had great connections in England, and who had great discretion besides.

She walked over to the nightstand, picked up the telephone, and began to dial.

“What are you doing?” her mother asked.

“Calling Marshal Dillon,” Jill answered.

“But we don’t know any Dillons!”

“Yes we do. Alias Lettice Kitteridge.”

“… yes, my son, Edward, has all kinds of connections with the English authorities,” Lettice Kitteridge, one of the ruling matriarchs of Philadelphia society, said a short time later. “I’m sure he can help you, Jill.”

“Wonderful,” Jill said fervently.

Hardly missing a beat at the interruption, Lettice went on, “I was disappointed when the family chose to stay on after Edward’s stint as ambassador was over. Only his daughter, Susan, had the sense to come home. Interesting child, Susan. Full of surprises. My grandson Rick, however … Mmm, my grandson Rick. Now why didn’t I see this ages ago.…”

“About my problem,” Jill broke in, deciding to keep Lettice from going off on a tangent. The last thing she needed now was a monologue on some grandson.

“Yes, of course. I thought that Leeds man was a little too ‘Jolly Old England’ the night of the Harpers’ party,” Lettice said. “I didn’t care for him. Still, he’s very clever in first presenting your mother with a scandal to hush up, and then in leaving the family with another to hush up. Or look ridiculous. I wonder how many others he’s swindled in that fashion.”

“He swindled this one, Lettice,” Jill said. “And that’s enough for me.”

“Edward will help you get your necklace back, Jill. Don’t worry.”

Hope began to filter through Jill’s anger, changing it to determination. She’d retrieve the family honor.

No matter what it took.