The Girl with the Pearl Pin

by Lynne Connolly

  “No!” His violent response shocked her enough for her to turn to face him. “It was not the letters,” he insisted in a calmer voice. “You must not think that. If you choose not to write to me again, I will understand, but our correspondence was the high point of my day. I would miss them.”

  He liked them? Even as she’d written them, she’d considered them perhaps too suggestive, but she never went over the bounds of propriety, and carefully ensured that the conceits she used could easily be the innocent comments they appeared. She enjoyed contriving them. But surely she could do that no more. She would have to reconcile her heart to what she had told Angela earlier; they did not have a future, at least not one together.

  Even though she had forgotten his status, as she did every time she was with him, his clothes and the careless way he dismissed what was obviously a valuable treasure reminded her he was wealthier than was decent and carried more influence than her whole county.

  In short, George, The Duke of Leomore, was a powerful man, and it would behoove her to remember it.

  “Keep the pearl pin for a little while longer,” he said softly. “I would prefer that you care for it for me. It gives me a link I have no right to think of, after the way I mauled you today. But I want to.” He swallowed. “Let us be good to ourselves. A few careless kisses, that is all.”

  “You speak from experience?” So he had done this to other respectable women? Was he a rake in disguise?

  He shook his head. “No.”

  She appreciated the opportunity to regain her composure. He was right; if she’d flung herself upstairs, people would have noticed her disheveled clothing and heightened color.

  He stepped forward. Gently, he took her hands. The thrill she’d felt before coursed through her anew, the desire to move closer. “You see?” he said. “We are aware of our mutual attraction, but we do not have to do anything, if we do not wish. I will swear by whatever you like not to distress you again.”

  “It was n-not stress exactly….” She wasn’t sure how to describe it. With his kisses, Leo had unlocked a door. Before, she would have remained content, ready to live her life as a single woman. If she refused her first suitor in favor of another local man, he would have taken offense and done his best to make matters difficult for her family. She knew that when she had made a choice to refuse him, and accepted the consequences.

  Now, she wasn’t so sure. She’d successfully resisted the few attempts that had come her way to fix her interest. Now, she wanted something else. A whole new world had opened up for her, and he’d done it.

  “Would you take that drive with me? We could both do with some air.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile. “I swear I’ll be good.”

  She still had the carriage dress from yesterday. And she had loved riding in that curricle. “Very well, I would love to. If you wouldn’t mind waiting for ten minutes while I change?”

  Phoebe lifted her skirts and ran up the stairs to her room.

  But this had to be the last time. With the imminent arrival of her family and her continued lack of self-control with Leo, this affair could only end in disaster. She could not allow Leo to end in a situation he could not want. And she would never forgive herself if she forced him into a marriage that could only be a misalliance. From now on they would drift apart, and so she would tell him. No more letters, private meetings, or rides in the park.

  She would be kind to them both and sever their growing intimacy.

  Her buoyant mood melted away, and determination took its place. This would happen today. It could not go on like this.

  Phoebe occupied an elegant bedroom at the end of the same corridor that contained Angela’s room. She had a few days yet, perhaps as much as a week before her family arrived and her dreams were crushed.

  If Leo could change places with Sir Marcus Callow, her suitor from the country, the reason she had been so eager to come to London and stay with Angela, she would be truly happy. But he could not, and so matters between them must end today.

  When she opened the door to her room, numb shock made her stand stock-still and stare at the mess inside, blinking as if that would clear the devastation before her. Recalling her senses, she raised her voice, screaming her distress. “Help! To me!”

  Chapter 6

  People came running. First a manservant, who took one look at the room and ran to the staircase, calling for help. Then a couple of housemaids came rattling down from the floor above, and two footmen.

  Phoebe’s room had been ransacked. Clothes lay strewn about, slashes leaving gaping holes in the fabric. The sheets had been torn off the bed and the mattress upended. Every drawer in the tallboy had been dragged out and tipped over to empty its contents. Phoebe waded across the floor, staring at the mess in wide-eyed horror.

  Angela came up from the ground floor. “What is it?”

  “Good God!” Leo must have followed her upstairs. “What happened here?” Immediately he strode to Phoebe, and heedless of the witnesses, folded her into his arms.

  After one indulgent moment when she pressed her face into the warmth of his waistcoat, Phoebe drew away. She must not give way to tears. Not yet. “What would anybody want with my things?”

  A footman arrived. “I’ve checked all the other rooms on this corridor, ma’am. Nothing is disturbed. This is the only room that shows any sign of intrusion.”

  “It was fine when I left half an hour ago,” she said numbly. “How could anyone do this in that time?”

  “With determination, easily,” Leo said, meeting her gaze. Then he turned his attention to the wreck that had once been her bedroom, but he kept his arm around her waist, holding her firmly. Phoebe didn’t have the strength to draw away. She was shaking in shock, near to tears at the thought of someone pawing through her things.

  Leo narrowed his eyes, examining the scene closely. “The intruder did nothing that would make a noise and attract attention. Nothing is smashed. What sounds he made could have been excused as a housemaid doing her work.”

  “And how is it that nobody heard and investigated?” Angela swung around, demanding the information from the servants.

  “Nobody is here at this time, ma’am,” a housemaid ventured. “We do the bedrooms in the mornings, when you’re at breakfast. We change the sheets on Mondays. Miss North does not use a personal maid every day, and your woman is out, ma’am.”

  Angela’s eyes filled with wrath as she turned to the footman. “I want everyone downstairs in the green drawing room. Everyone, do you hear?”

  The room slowly cleared, except for the housemaids and footman Angela tasked with clearing the mess.

  “You must take another room,” she told Phoebe. “The one next to mine. I should not have put you here, so far away from anyone else.”

  “But I asked you to,” Phoebe reminded her. She’d loved this room, with its windows on two walls, the airiness and solitude she could find here. The privacy was so delightful after the crowded rooms she was used to. No more.

  Leo lifted his gaze to hers. “There is wanton destruction here, but I see a method, too. This was not done from spite alone.”

  “I will get to the bottom of this if it is the last thing I do!” Angela said, her eyes sparkling with fury. “Come, we can do no more here. Let the servants clear the mess.”

  The attacker had upended her jewelry box, its miserable contents lying in a small heap. The ribbons and lace ruffle she wore around her neck, her coral necklace, the pearl one, its tiny pearls sprinkled over her linen, and a few other trinkets lay forlorn on the sliced-up clothes.

  Before she left, Phoebe swept up the letters from Leo and the small velvet box she’d stroked earlier. Had the thieves taken the pin? She was too shocked to cry, and by the time she came out of her initial shock, the urge to weep had gone, replaced by seething anger.

  Downstairs, the green drawing room
was crammed with people. The servants huddled at one end, talking in hushed voices, and Angela and Leo at the other. Phoebe went to stand between them. On her way downstairs, she had gone through the questions she wanted to ask. This was her problem, and she had every intention of solving it.

  “We saw nobody unusual,” one of the liveried footmen volunteered.

  “That doesn’t mean nobody came,” the cook said. A tall, thin woman, she was rarely seen outside her domain. “The only thing different was the man delivering a new piece of furniture. He brought it through the kitchen.” She tutted. “Upsetting my maids.”

  “That was it,” Phoebe said. “Which stairs d-did he take?”

  “The servants’ one. Taverner went with him.”

  Angela took her part. “I had ordered a new side table for the second bedroom, so nobody would have objected. Where is Taverner now?”

  The servants looked around as if expecting him to step forward. “Find him,” Leo demanded, then shot a glance of apology at Angela. She nodded briefly.

  In the hiatus that followed, Phoebe plucked the small case from her pocket. “They didn’t take my j-jewelry, but that isn’t entirely surprising. I don’t have much.” She paused, recalling something. “I did have a small paste brooch that my sister gave me for my birthday last year. I don’t remember seeing that. But this was with the jewelry.” Opening the case, she revealed the pin, still there. “That’s worth a l-lot, isn’t it? So wh-why is it s-still there?”

  “It certainly is,” Angela answered. “That pearl is huge.”

  Leo pulled the pin from the case and twirled it in his fingers. “So why, if these people were thieves, didn’t they take it?” He tucked the pin back in its case and closed it, but he made no attempt to take it from Phoebe. “And why did they not go to your room, Miss Childers? I have seen you wearing some magnificent jewels.”

  Angela nodded. “I have a few good pieces, yes. Most are in the safe, but I have more everyday jewels than Phoebe, and my room is close by.”

  Phoebe blinked hard. Why hadn’t she seen that before? “They were l-looking for something l-larger than a p-pearl pin. They were searching f-for a n-necklace. Th-They wanted one particular piece.”

  Beside her Leo went still. “The Latimer necklace.” He groaned. “But you don’t have it.”

  “L-Lady Latimer thinks I do, and she’s been shouting about it all over t-town.” Phoebe stroked the soft velvet on the box, her senses calming. “Why are they still l-looking for it if they s-stole it?”

  Leo turned to her, realization dawning in his gaze. “Because they don’t have it. You don’t have it, but the thieves don’t have it, either. So who does?”

  A footman hurtled into the room and drew up short, nearly colliding with a side table. “Ma’am, I found Taverner. He was in the small powder room nearest to Miss North’s chamber. Someone knocked him on the head. There’s a bit of a mess.” He shot Angela a sheepish look. “They used the washbasin, broke it over his head.”

  “How is he?” Angela demanded.

  “He came around when I shook him a bit. He has a headache, so I sent him up to bed, ma’am, but I don’t think he’ll come to any lasting harm.”

  Angela nodded. “I will go and see him at once. Poor man!” At the door, she waved. “Go back to your duties, please. I’ll talk to you all, and anyone who has any concerns, come straight to me.”

  Phoebe and Leo exchanged a glance, in accord. Once Angela had quit the room, Leo stopped the footman before he left with the others. “How long has Taverner worked for Miss Childers?”

  “Twenty years, Your Grace,” the footman who found him answered. “He’s been with the family since she was small. He’d never do anything to hurt her or betray the family.”

  Phoebe sighed. Taverner must be the older man who was putting on weight. She hadn’t recalled his name. “He’ll be fine,” the footman assured her gently. “He’s got a hard head, has Taverner.”

  “But you will be one footman down for a while,” Leo said thoughtfully. As he turned away, the footman left the room.

  Immediately Leo drew her into his arms. His heart was pounding, as she nestled into him. In a minute she’d pull away, but he felt so good. She couldn’t deny the shock she’d received. “You should not have gone into your room,” he said, his voice rumbling through her body. “The intruder could still have been there.”

  If she weren’t so close to him, she’d have missed his shudder. Only slight, but it was there. His concern for her warmed and comforted her. Having a stranger rifle through her belongings had made her feel as if she’d been violated. Not that she would admit that to anyone, even the man holding her now. “With Miss Childers’s permission, I will loan her one of my staff. Jemmy’s father, Linton, to be precise. He will be your footman, Phoebe, for you to send on errands and to take with you when you go out.”

  Phoebe understood his meaning immediately. “You’re worried about me?”

  “That I am.” He leaned back, gazing down at her. “Let me do this for you, Phoebe. I won’t rest until this affair is cleared up, and I thank my good fortune I was there with you that night. Someone wants those diamonds badly.”

  “Lady Latimer, for one.”

  “And whoever has that necklace.”

  Chapter 7

  “I am to be your companion tonight instead of the other way around,” Angela said, an amused smile curving her lips.

  “Oh no!” Phoebe whirled around from where she had been enjoying her reflection in the mirror.

  Despite her protests, Angela had insisted on providing Phoebe with a new wardrobe. Most of the gowns had been made over from Angela’s discards, or so she claimed, though Phoebe was skeptical. However, the butter-yellow and cream gown she was wearing tonight would not have suited Angela in the least.

  “You can’t allow people to say that. I came to London to act as your companion, so if you think I’m putting myself forward too much, you must say so.”

  Reaching around her neck, Phoebe made to remove her pearl necklace, which she’d painstakingly restrung after the thieves had broken it. She had no need of it tonight. The gown was of watered silk with a cream petticoat and robings down the front, embroidered with gold cord and tiny images of birds. It was the most glorious thing she’d ever seen, and on Angela’s advice she’d left her hair unpowdered, the better to show the gown to advantage. But she did look far grander than she was.

  “Don’t remove that necklace,” Angela instructed her. “And I think it’s delightful that you are blossoming. Why you always refused to dress well before, I do not know. Your parents would not object.”

  Phoebe sighed. “No, they would not. My m-mother would not notice. But I determined to b-behave with the greatest propriety when I came to London, and now look at me! Every time I enter a room, people l-look.”

  “Because you’re lovely. Not an accredited beauty, not yet, but you could be.”

  Angela should know; she was certainly an accredited beauty. “I do not w-wish to be feted in that way.” Truly she did not. Such admiration as she was receiving made her feel like a fraud. She was not beautiful, she was just the same person as before tricked out in grander clothing. And a little more confident, she had to admit. Phoebe picked up her fan from the dressing table, and after taking one final peep at her appearance, left her room in Angela’s wake.

  The last thing she wanted was to draw attention to herself, but she could hardly avoid it now that she was betrothed to a most eligible bachelor, however temporary that was. But perhaps they could continue as friends when her adventure was over. She wrote to Leo at least once a day, and he wrote back. They exchanged views about books, plays, even politics, and no subject escaped their notice.

  Climbing into Angela’s extravagantly appointed town carriage was almost normal. They had not dined out tonight, although invitations crowded the mantelpiece in the breakfast
parlor. Both ladies had agreed that a quiet dinner a deux was the perfect start to what promised to be a long evening.

  After the opera, they were to go to no less than two balls, both at unexceptionable places. Phoebe didn’t know how long she could keep up this pace, but she was game to play a few more rounds.

  A footman in Leo’s livery waited for them at the door to the opera house and took them to Leo’s box. This was Linton. Like Taverner, he was a little older than the average footman, but burly enough, and with a countenance that would scare most would-be attackers away.

  Leo had brought a friend, another duke. Dukes were rare, but there were at least seven here tonight. This opera had been hotly anticipated, and in any case, the theater was a place society frequented, to see and be seen.

  Resplendent in peacock blue and gold, Leo lifted Phoebe’s hand to his lips. So used to Angela being addressed first, Phoebe nearly botched the exchange, but Leo grasped her hand firmly and raised a dark brow as he straightened. The sardonic gleam in his eyes told her he had not missed her hesitation at the entrance.

  The two rows of seats provided plenty of room. Her quick survey showed her the footman at the back, waiting to do their bidding, the elegant seating, so unlike the benches in the gods way above them, and the attention of the people all around the theater. Nobody was watching the first piece being performed anymore. Spyglasses were turned in their direction.

  Then she was introduced to the Duke of Colston Magna.

  Even Leo’s peacock blue paled compared to His Grace’s magnificence. His white wig was fresh, elaborate, and at the height of fashion. The pair of curls above each ear were neatly done. He wore brocade, bright green with flowers woven into the pattern, as if they were scattered carelessly over a field of summer blossoms. His breeches and waistcoat were a gleaming ivory, the buttons glittering with either brilliants or diamonds. She didn’t want to speculate which. Leo’s friend was a complete dandy.

  But nobody would mistake His Grace of Colston Magna as anything but essentially male. One of the two small swords propped at the back of the box belonged to him, and the expression in his dark eyes promised heat between the sheets.