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.
‘Not everything,’ she decided, holding up various pieces, ‘only the very best.’
Her brother picked up a pearl choker inset with diamonds and emeralds. ‘I wonder if she knows that these are paste.’
Nell glanced at the piece and shrugged. ‘Probably hocked to pay gambling debts. Put it back, Perry; it is of no use to us.’
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
‘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.
‘Not everything,’ she decided, holding up various pieces, ‘only the very best.’
Her brother picked up a pearl choker inset with diamonds and emeralds. ‘I wonder if she knows that these are paste.’
Nell glanced at the piece and shrugged. ‘Probably hocked to pay gambling debts. Put it back, Perry; it is of no use to us.’
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
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