The Girl with the Pearl Pin

by Lynne Connolly

  He forced ice through his veins.

  Lady North’s mouth dropped open. “Is this true?” she asked in a failing voice, the quietest Leo had ever heard her. The woman who could bellow across a hunting field had gone. Her face had paled, and for once she looked old and confused.

  Well, she might. At least she had known nothing of the scheme, her expression told him that.

  Leo took the initiative. “Perfectly true. Moreover, I do not appreciate scheming, especially when it concerns me. Watching it can be amusing, but not this time. I am far too old a hand for this to fool me. I will find her and marry her.”

  “But how can you if she marries Marcus?” Lucinda demanded.

  “If I kill him she’ll be a widow.” Although his murderous mood definitely stretched to Callow, he was also afraid for Phoebe. The man was big. He could hurt her, use her foully. If he did that, then Leo would kill him. “I would not marry an ingenue in any case, especially one who could construct a scheme so clumsy. I expect more of anyone I associate with.” He scanned her from head to foot. “That gown suited Phoebe better, I believe.” He prepared to verbally tear the child to pieces.

  Before he could say more, Miss Childers cleared her throat. “I heard about La Coccinelle,” she said to him. “I was already on my way here when I got my uncle’s note.” Ignoring everyone else, she turned to face Leo. “Has it occurred to you that Phoebe could be in danger?”

  Leo closed his eyes. “Yes. If someone thinks she has the necklace, you mean?” Specifically the man Forrester.

  Miss Childers nodded. “Precisely. Someone wants that jewel, and if they think Phoebe has it, they will pursue her. She only has Callow to protect her, and neither of them know what happened this morning.”

  “What happened?” Sir Frederick asked quietly.

  “A woman of the night was murdered because the thief thought she was in possession of the Latimer necklace,” Leo told him, to a chorus of gasps.

  “What happened to Linton?” Leo demanded.

  “He’s upstairs. One of Callow’s footmen knocked him on the head, rather than let him get to her. I sent him up to bed.”

  Leo nodded. “Linton is a family retainer. That is another score I have to settle with Callow.”

  Fear clutched Leo’s heart, forcing him to suck in a few deep breaths to steady himself. Whoever wanted the necklace would have had time to study it. If it was not the real thing, they would continue their pursuit. If they found out she had left town, that would be a gift to them, and an invitation to follow.

  “I must go.”

  Miss Childers caught his arm. “I thought you’d say that. I took the liberty of having a horse made ready for you. It is furnished with what you will need. I can order someone to accompany you, if you wish.”

  Leo forced a tight smile of thanks. “I will travel faster alone. I am inordinately grateful to you.”

  Miss Childers waved off his thanks. “Go. I will take care of matters here. There’s a map in the saddlebag, and the route to Phoebe’s home is marked.”

  Such efficiency made him sorry he was not more attracted to her. He liked her enormously, admired her for her business acumen, but felt little desire for her. Certainly not the roaring flame when he was in Phoebe’s presence.

  “I will be eternally grateful.” After bowing briefly, he was done, shaking the dust of this family off his heels. Except that he would not forbid Phoebe from seeing them, if she wished.

  Unless he was hanged for killing her abductor.

  Chapter 15

  Once Marcus had her in the coach, Phoebe pretended to faint clean away. Deeply worried that he would try to seduce her—or worse—she took matters out of his hands and copied Lucinda’s favorite tactic, by letting her eyes flutter closed and going limp in his arms.

  The plan could redound on her if he decided to molest her anyway. But Marcus was not quite that low. He laid her on the seat opposite to his, and let her be, although she felt his gaze on her and had to fight hard to keep her demeanor that of an unconscious woman.

  Through half-closed eyes, Phoebe watched the countryside pass the carriage window, and regretted her lack of chances to get away. The door was locked, but she would have created a fuss that nobody could have ignored, given the chance. In the country, she had far less opportunity to escape than the city. What was she to do?

  She could not remain in that state forever. Eventually, she let her eyes flick open. Marcus stared at her, a sinister smile curving his thin lips.

  “Let me go.”

  He ignored her demand. “Are you feeling better now? Do you need anything?”

  “I w-want to go b-b-back to Angela’s house.” Phoebe fought to keep her temper and her self-control. Every hair on her body stood on end, and her throat was tight with anxiety.

  “One day we will visit.” He glanced out of the carriage window. “We have had to go the long way around, because we were at the wrong side of London.” He frowned. “Irritating. If I had taken you from Grosvenor Square, we could have taken the faster route. Unfortunately, the delay will make our journey longer, but I think we’ll still be home by nightfall. We’ll marry tomorrow.” He watched her, eyes glowing. “I will make you mine tonight.”

  Phoebe remained stretched out on the seat, her head pillowed on a spare cushion. If she sat up, he might try to join her. Her stays were pinching, her cane-hooped petticoat uncomfortable under her, but at least it had fallen the right way. It didn’t feel good, though, one side heavier than the other. No doubt he’d snapped one of the hoops. The way he’d dragged her through the carriage door, she was lucky to escape with no broken bones. “How c-can we marry tomorrow?” Apart from the fact that she would kill him first.

  Brightly, he patted his chest, where the inside pocket of his coat must lie. “I have a special license.”

  “What if I tell the v-vicar I d-d-d-don’t want to m-marry you? You c-c-c-can’t make me.”

  “But, my dear, after you’ve spent the night with me, it is me or nobody. You understand that, do you not?”

  Nobody then. In ten years’ time she’d be looking after Lucinda’s children, living off her sister’s charity, as a despised, single member of the family. She would never have a home of her own, never have a family or children. She didn’t have the resources for that. Or she could run away and become a governess. She’d still be looking after someone else’s children, but at least she’d be paid for it.

  She would rather do that than marry Marcus.

  “Besides,” he said thoughtfully, crossing one leg over the other, “you’re better off with me. At least I don’t spend my nights in the City, visiting the most disreputable dens I can find.” Although she tried not to react, he must have seen something in her eyes because he pursued his advantage. “Have you not heard the gossip? Your duke visits whores in the worst, the filthiest of sordid rooms, and goes to the gaming hells where people are stabbed to death nightly at the turn of a card. I won’t do that, not when I have you all right and tight!”

  Leo had too much honor. “You’re lying.” Of course he was.

  “I do not expect you to believe me, but you may ask anyone you like if we ever return to town. Everyone in London knows that.”

  “No. And I will not m-m-marry you.”

  He lifted his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “Our vicar holds me in high regard together with the rest of the district. You must know this. I will remind him you are shy and retiring. Everyone knows you are, you’ve cultivated that opinion for years.” He grinned, a nasty, no-humor curve of his lips. “Your natural reticence does not allow you to walk boldly into marriage, and you can barely get a word out without stuttering. Why? Would you rather I had you and left you?”

  “N-no.” Yes, but she’d rather he didn’t have her at all. She had no doubt he would tell anyone who would listen what he’d done, and her reputation would be destr
oyed.

  Her gaze dropped from his face to the pin carelessly thrust through his coat. The pearl was fine; she had never come across one so pure or so large before. The slightly uneven shape only drew her attention to the flash of tiny diamonds set at its tip and on the base, where the pearl met the gold pin. “That pin was in my room.”

  “Lucinda gave it to me.” He touched the smooth surface of the pearl. “She said it would persuade you to join me. And it did, didn’t it?” He pulled the pin out of his coat. Somewhere it had lost the gold cap that stopped it pricking the skin or slipping out and getting lost.

  “Yes. It d-doesn’t b-belong to me. It is the property of the D-D-Duke of Leomore.”

  “That fool?” Uncrossing his legs, he spread his thighs and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Don’t think of that man any longer. He’s not in your life anymore. I’m sure he’ll breathe a sigh of relief when he hears our news.”

  Would he? The doubts that constantly niggled at her returned in force now. Trying not to fidget, to draw attention to her body, she concentrated on what she was going to say. Stopping the dratted stammer. But the more she thought about it, the worse it got, and after an abortive line of n’s, she gave up.

  “Oh dear, that sounded awful.” His mouth framed his words, but his eyes said something else. The dark depths gleamed. He was looking forward to having her, and he didn’t care how he did it. Oh, she did not doubt that was part of his plan, to make sure of her before they reached home. What might be excused as reckless but understandable behavior in a woman on the eve of her wedding day would be utterly condemned in a spinster.

  What was she to do?

  Fight, perhaps, get away at the first inn they stopped at to have the horses changed. But in that case, he could restrain her in the carriage, or even take her here. Fear curled through her like an old flame, slow, wily, waiting for its chance to flare up and conquer her. If she gave in to it, she’d lose her mind.

  Unexpectedly, he twirled the pin in front of his face, watching it before he leaned forward and tucked it into the fabric of her green gown.

  “It looks better on you. It’s too feminine for me.”

  She failed to see that. He wanted it gone, though, and that was good enough for her. She would care for it until she met its owner or had a chance to return it to him. Or she could plunge it into Marcus’s black heart. It wouldn’t make much of a hole, but she’d feel better for it.

  Could she create a bigger hole in his chest? She closed her eyes and then opened them again, letting her attention drift. Carriages usually contained pistols in holsters high up, but the ones in this vehicle were empty. No doubt Marcus had taken the precaution of removing them.

  Her heart plummeted the rest of the way. Whatever the outcome of this madness, her ducal suitor would not want her now. He was the recipient of enough opprobrium already, but to marry a woman who had run off with her lover would be the outside of enough. And even a duke could not afford to turn his back on his network of contacts and friends. Leo was not in love with her—at least, she didn’t think so—but he desired her. Desire was a transient thing. It died. So all they had to do was wait it out.

  Why did that sound so hard? Why did despair hold her captive?

  Because she loved Leo, that was why. And to her dismay, she thought she always would. Certainly she couldn’t imagine anyone else in that part of her life. Not the man before her, that was sure and certain. Even if he ruined her, she would not marry him willingly.

  He might force her. She could do little about that. With marriage such a transient thing, when men and women could hold hands and declare they were married, how could she deny it?

  Forcing down her panic, she set herself to thinking and planning. Trying to devise a way to get away from him and save her reputation.

  Despair caught her in its claws yet again, and this time she let it have its way. Whatever happened to her, she was doomed. Spinster or married to a man she was growing to actively dislike rather than tolerate, she would not have the future she had dared to believe was hers.

  She would get away, and she would defy Marcus. That was all she had left. To that end, she took a mental inventory of what she had at her disposal, and what she might have if they stopped at an inn.

  First she’d have to ensure they did stop at an inn before they reached the area where Marcus would be recognized and tolerated. And her. Being seen together in these circumstances would wreck what reputation she had left. Better to stop at an inn and take her chances on escaping.

  She started to heave. If she did it enough, she could make herself sick. Then Marcus would have to stop.

  * * * *

  If they kept to the main roads, he should catch up with them before nightfall. Heedless of his own safety, Leo sent Linton ahead, to scout out the inns and roads. Unfortunately, major highways near London were rarely empty, so enquiries about recent carriages passing by only received disbelieving sniggers from the occupants of the houses along the route.

  Linton had insisted on accompanying him. He felt he had let Leo down, despite receiving a knock on the head that would have felled lesser men for a week. Dressed in plain clothes with a bandage wrapped around his head, he’d rejected all requests for him to get down and go inside the house. But secretly, Leo was glad to have him. He could trust Linton. His son served as Leo’s tiger, and his wife was the head housemaid. Leo took care to keep the little family intact, not separating them to work at different houses, and they responded with their loyalty. Whatever happened next, Leo could trust the man implicitly.

  Miss Childers had furnished Leo with ready money, and after scrawling her an IOU, he set off, letting no dust settle under his horse’s hooves. He found food in the saddlebags and a plain coat, which he would change into at the first staging post. The woman was indeed most efficient. His town coat would stand out like a beacon once he got twenty miles outside the city, and he did not want his progress marked. Sending to his house for one of his steeds would have added to the head start Callow had on them.

  Linton rode ahead and had fresh horses waiting at the staging posts. He cajoled the landladies into providing saddlebag food, the kind that could be consumed on the road, rather than wasting time at an inn table.

  Linton had a weathered face, brown and lined. He didn’t have a bit of fat anywhere Leo could see, and his hands were sinewy and skilled.

  And Leo had the opportunity to question Linton, to see if he had discovered anything during his sojourn at Miss Childers’s house. He chose his moment, just as they left an inn on fresh horses. They walked them while they ate their princely repast of bread and cheese. “Tell me about the conspiracy of footmen.” He dragged another chunk of bread from his pack, giving his companion a chance to invent a lie.

  “Oh, that rumor’s been around for years, sir. Everybody’s heard about it below stairs, but it’s like the Masons. If you belong, you don’t talk about it.”

  “I see.” That made sense. “So what are the below stairs rumors?” He glanced up, a piece of bread in his hand, and took a bite, taking the time to steer his horse around a deep rabbit hole. “Considering this is a major thoroughfare, the road is in a terrible state.”

  “A lot of the roads around London are like that,” the footman responded. “Too many carriages, not enough maintenance.” He accepted the piece of cheese Leo handed him with a word of thanks. “I’ve seen and heard things,” Linton continued. “Not anything definite, but there are a lot of stories around. Gossip is good currency. If you have a lively tale, the other domestics will look up to you.”

  Leo continued eating, letting the groom fill the pause.

  “I’ve seen them come and go. Footmen are usually big and brawny, and they fill out a suit of livery well. In London they move around a lot from house to house. London servants don’t have the staying power of country domestics.” Linton stared ahead, watching t
he road. “Like other people, they’re ambitious and very different. But the ones out for the main chance will keep the honest servants away. If there is a conspiracy of footmen, that’s how it would start. And you know staff gossip, especially in London. People hear things.”

  “If this conspiracy existed, how would it be done? How could they steal something, say a necklace, and get away with it?”

  Linton threw the heel of his bread away. A couple of birds landed on it and tore off pieces. Society attacking an outcast couldn’t be more enthusiastic. “Easily, sir, especially in London, where people live close together. They just need to know who they’re operating with and where the goods will end up. The footmen have families in London, who could possibly help them get rid of whatever it is. Once they have handed the goods to the next person, it can travel up the chain and be lost. No amount of searches will find it, and the faster that’s done, the better.”

  “In theory, of course.”

  He had never considered, not for a second, leaving Phoebe with Callow, or not going in pursuit. He never believed her sister, and the ludicrous plan of taking Lucinda in exchange would have made him howl with laughter if the situation weren’t so serious. If her sister had not put Phoebe right into the eye of the storm. Taking Phoebe from her abductor was a given, but if he could avoid the scandal of her abduction, she would find society much more comfortable. He wanted her so badly he’d consider estrangement from his beloved grandmother. That had never happened before; his grandmother was always paramount in his considerations. Not this time.

  The news that the buffoon Callow had taken her rather than the more dangerous jewel thief was a relief, but even now Forrester could be in pursuit. Phoebe was the most vulnerable she’d been for weeks.