Devonshire Scream (24 page)

“Yup. That's it.”

Theodosia grabbed the bowl, bobbled it slightly in her hands, and then passed it over to Haley. “Drayton said you had to whip up a few more pans of scones?”

Haley gave a quick nod. “Yeah, we've been crazy-busy with take-out orders. So I baked another four dozen chocolate
chip scones and now I'm going to whip up three dozen maraschino cherry scones. Once that's done, I'm going to collapse and call it a day.” She grabbed a canister of sugar and popped off the top. “We're still planning to close early today, right?”

“One thirty or two o'clock. As soon as we can gracefully get everyone out of the tea shop without ruffling any feathers.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Haley said. She grabbed a scoop and began measuring out sugar. “You know, I've been thinking about the Rare Antiquities Show tonight and I decided that I'm actually looking forward to it.”

“That's great to hear. I'm glad you decided to join us.” Haley wasn't always gung ho about black-tie events. Especially the ones at the Heritage Society, which she deemed to be a little too stuffy for her bohemian sensibilities. “Have you figured out what you're going to wear?”

Haley glanced up. “I thought I might wear that midnight blue dress you let me wear last time. Would that be okay with you?”

“Absolutely it would. Especially since it's still hanging in your closet.”

“Well . . . yeah. But if it's a problem . . .”

“It's not,” Theodosia said. “Besides, I already made a run to Cotton Duck and picked up a new black dress. Though it was done under duress and Delaine technically picked it out for me.”

“Was she there? Futzing around the shop?” Haley asked.

“No, thank goodness.”

Haley chuckled. “Delaine's kind of an ankle biter, isn't she?”

“Hmm?”

“You know, like one of those little teacup dogs that's always jumping around and yapping at your ankles.”

“I doubt Delaine would see it that way.”

“So,” Haley said, “what'd she pick out for you? A cool dress or a gag-me dress?”

“It's cute. I think you'll like it.”

“But the big question is will I fit into it?” Haley asked. “At a later date, I mean.”

“You probably will. If you don't snarf down too many of your own scones.”

“I know,” Haley chuckled. “I gotta be careful about that. I don't want to be a product of my own success.”

“Speaking of which, what's on the docket for lunch today?”

“I made it easy peasy,” Haley said. “Tomato bisque soup, egg salad tea sandwiches, and mini chicken Wellingtons.”

“
Chicken
Wellington? We've never served that before,” Theodosia said. “In fact, I've never heard of it before.”

Haley grinned. “You wouldn't. Since I just invented it.”

•   •   •

After relaxing at
home for the afternoon, Theodosia took Earl Grey for a nice long walk and then came home and slipped into her tub for a bubble bath. As she unwound and luxuriated in the hot, silky water, her thoughts predictably turned toward the evening. She ruminated about the Heritage Society's big coup in obtaining a genuine Fabergé egg for their show, and all the well-to-do patrons who'd be in attendance.

There was also the possibility, of course, that coyotes might sneak into the chicken coop. That uninvited guests might infiltrate the show, with hungry eyes and theft on their brain.

Of course, someone with a proper invitation might also be biding their time to grab the Fabergé egg. Lionel Rinicker came to mind, as did Sabrina and Luke Andros. She didn't think her other two suspects—Billy Grainger and Marcus Clement—would be there. But you never know. It could turn out to be an anything-can-happen night.

Toenails clicked against the bathroom tile and Theodosia glanced up to see Earl Grey peering in.

“I know,” she said. “I'm turning into a prune and probably making myself late. I'll kick it into high gear.”

Earl Grey curled up on a plush cushion in Theodosia's upstairs turret room as she bustled about in her slip, getting ready. Delaine had once urged her to wear more eye makeup, so tonight she dutifully stood before her mirror and dabbed on a smidge of beige eye shadow, applied a coat of brown mascara, and then added a second coat.

There. Enough. I don't need to have tarantula eyes.

Lipstick was just a touch of Chanel's Imaginaire lip gloss.

Theodosia reached up and removed the plastic clip from her hair. Her auburn locks tumbled down around her shoulders, giving her the look of an angel in a romantic painting by Raphael. She grabbed a fat brush and tried to tame her curls and fierce waves. But the more she brushed, the more her hair crackled and came alive.

At least it's not doing its high-humidity double-volume thing.

In a world of upper-crust women who wore sleek designer bobs and sophisticated pixie cuts, she would just have to go au naturel tonight.

“Woof.”

Theodosia walked out of the bathroom and said, “What?” Earl Grey was standing at the window, his nose pressed hard against the glass, staring down into the backyard. “What do you see, fella?”

“Rrrrw.”
His hackles were up and his tail was down.

“Somebody in the backyard?” Theodosia came to the window and looked down. “Are the raccoons back?” But she didn't see anything moving. No bright eyes staring up, no bushy tails. “I think we're okay,” she said. “You can probably stand down.” But like a good guard dog, earnest and unperturbed, Earl Grey remained at his post.

Theodosia slipped into her new black cocktail dress and squiggled her feet into black velvet high heels. She brushed back waves of hair and put on a pair of diamond stud earrings
that her aunt Libby had given her. The last thing she did was attach the pin that Brooke had loaned her. When she was ready, when she finally glanced at herself head to toe in the mirror, her dress and all her other preparations seemed like background noise. The sparkling ruby-and-diamond flower pin clearly took center stage. Sitting high on her dress, the multitude of jewels sparkled and danced, projecting a thousand points of light.

And as Theodosia turned to leave, the dazzling shards glimmered seductively and seemed almost to whisper,
Come and snatch me if you dare.

“Theodosia,” Drayton exclaimed.
“You look positively radiant tonight.” He looked and sounded appropriately awestruck.

“Thank you,” Theodosia said. She had just stepped into the Great Hall at the Heritage Society and been enveloped in a swirl of elegantly gowned women and tuxedo-clad men. Waiters carrying silver trays plied the crowd with crystal flutes filled with French champagne, and over in the far corner a string quartet played the sprightly notes of Vivaldi. Drayton himself wore a one-button Fitzgerald tuxedo with a red cummerbund.

“As you can see,” Drayton said, looking pleased, one arm sweeping the crowd in a rather grand gesture, “the Heritage Society has had a record turnout.”

Theodosia glanced about at the well-heeled mob, where society ladies exchanged air kisses, men shook hands and congratulated each other on business deals and golf scores,
and singles were on the prowl. “Heavens,” she said, “how many people are here, anyway?”

“At last estimate, a tad over three hundred guests.”

“I don't know if that's good or bad.”

Drayton's brows knit together suddenly. “Like you, I still worry about some disaster befalling our Fabergé egg.”

“Humpty Dumpty had a great fall,” Theodosia murmured softly. “So . . . are there extra guards? Has added security been put on?”

“Timothy says yes, so I have to believe him. Though most of the security detail seem to be dressed in plain clothes and are mingling anonymously.”

“And where's the guest of honor?” Theodosia asked. “Where is this amazing Fabergé egg?” She glanced around, saw fine oil paintings, marble sculptures, and some sterling silver pitchers that were probably genuine Paul Revere. But no egg.

“At the last minute, Timothy had the display case moved to the rear of the Great Hall,” Drayton said. “Instead of keeping the Fabergé egg front and center, he thought it would be safer if it was back by the wall, easier to guard.” He gave her a knowing look, then put a hand on her shoulder and steered her through the press of warm bodies. “Come along, I'll show you.”

When they were within fifteen feet of the Fabergé egg, Theodosia began hearing appreciative murmurs. The cacophony of words that rang in her ears included such words as, “spectacular,” “amazing,” and “I wonder how much it's worth?”

“How much
is
it worth?” Theodosia asked Drayton as they jostled their way to the front of the line.

“Take a look and then you tell me,” Drayton said.

Theodosia edged forward two more steps and then, suddenly, there it was. A dazzling, ruby-red, jewel-encrusted imperial Fabergé egg. Gracefully encased in delicate swirls of 24-karat gold, it was one of the most amazing pieces of art that Theodosia had ever seen.

“Oh my goodness,” Theodosia exclaimed, completely taken aback. “It's beautiful.” She'd never set eyes on a genuine Fabergé egg before. She'd only seen photos of them in a Sotheby's catalog. Clearly, even glossy photos couldn't do the eggs justice because this particular Fabergé egg was take-your-breath-away stunning.

“Isn't it a honey?” Drayton was smiling unabashedly now. “You see how the middle of the egg is set completely with rubies?”

“I see that,” Theodosia said.

“With a dozen rows of diamonds at both the top and bottom?” Drayton flicked his hand just so.

“Amazing.” Any one of the many diamonds would have made a girl swoon.

“And do you see the design of the gold work? How the imperial Russian eagle morphs seamlessly into that lovely swirl pattern.” Drayton waggled a finger. “Do you see how the design almost anticipates the Art Deco movement?”

Theodosia nodded again. “I suppose it does.”

“Fascinating, yes?”

“Yes,” Theodosia agreed. She knew that everyone else found it just as fascinating, since all eyes seemed to be focused on the egg.

A moment later, Drayton turned his attention to her. “Wait a minute.” His eyes narrowed and he took a step back. “What, pray tell, do you have pinned to your dress?”

Theodosia's hand fluttered to her ruby pin. “You mean this?”

“Yes. Of course I'm referring to the pin you're wearing. The one with more diamonds and rubies than the crown jewels. It looks like it's worth an absolute fortune. It looks almost like . . . well . . .” He glanced sideways at the egg. “It looks almost like a mate to the Fabergé egg! The jewelry equivalent, anyway, done in rubies and diamonds.”

Theodosia grabbed Drayton by the sleeve and pulled
him out of the scrum of admirers. “It is expensive,” she told him. “Brooke loaned it to me.”

“How interesting.” Drayton was acting a little twitchy now. “I thought all her jewelry had been stolen in last Sunday's heist.”

“She had this particular Bulgari piece stashed in her office safe. Probably because it
is
so rare and pricey.”

“Okay,” Drayton said, focusing a stern gaze on her. “Now tell me why
you
happen to be wearing it? Why you're attempting to stick out like a sore thumb?” Before Theodosia could answer, he touched a hand to his forehead and said, “Oh no. Silly me. You're wearing that piece on purpose, aren't you? You're parading around with it on your person, winking and blinking like a homing beacon, so you can catch the eye of any would-be jewel thieves.”

Theodosia pursed her lips. “I'm not parading around.”

Drayton's eyes bored into her. “Yes, you really are.”

“Okay,” Theodosia said. “So the piece is going to get noticed. Is that such a bad thing?”

“It's terrible,” Drayton said. “If those awful jewel thieves happen to show up here tonight, you could get smashed and grabbed yourself!”

“I don't think that's going to happen,” Theodosia said. When Drayton continued to stare at her, she decided she'd better come clean. “Okay, maybe I
did
think my pin might possibly attract the attention of the jewel thieves. But if it does, isn't that a good way to flush them out?”

“It's not good at all,” Drayton said. He was almost beside himself. “In fact, it's an insane plan. Which is why we're going to get you out of here. Right now. This instant.”

Theodosia pulled away from him. “Drayton . . .” She wanted to at least give her plan a chance to work.

“And I can't believe Brooke loaned it to you,” Drayton spat out. “What was she thinking?” He shook his head, baffled.
“Well, she wasn't thinking, that's for sure. Good thing
I'm
the one with the clear head.”

“I'm not leaving this party, if that's what you're saying.” Theodosia was a little shocked. She'd never seen Drayton quite so insistent before.

“Then we'll lock that thing up in Timothy's office for the time being. Come on.”

Theodosia's shoulders sagged. “Oh no . . . seriously?”

But just as Drayton tried to propel her away from the crowd, Lionel Rinicker loomed directly in front of them. Tall and gawky in his black tuxedo, he looked like an ominous scarecrow.

“Drayton!” Rinicker exclaimed. “Can you believe this marvelous turnout?” He smiled a lopsided grin at Theodosia and said, “Hello, Miss Browning, it's lovely to see you again.”

“Hello, Mr. Rinicker,” Theodosia said. She was actually delighted to see Rinicker. One, because now she could keep a keen eye on him. And, two, because now Drayton couldn't drag her off like a sack of potatoes to Timothy's office.

“Lionel,” a woman's voice purred. “I grabbed a glass of champagne for you.” Grace Dawson suddenly joined them, looking petite and elegant in a strapless black dress with fluffy black ostrich feathers around the hem. She had a glass of champagne clutched in each hand. “I'm not usually a two-fisted drinker,” she chuckled to Theodosia and Drayton.

Theodosia and Drayton greeted her warmly and then Theodosia said, “Have you seen the Fabergé egg yet?”

Grace handed one of the glasses to Rinicker and said, “Have we ever. I think we were among the first ones here tonight.”

“Impressive, isn't it?” Drayton said. He was fidgeting, glancing at Theodosia, still trying to pull her away.

“I saw a blue Fabergé egg at a fancy auction in Miami once,” Grace said. “It came from one of the old Palm Beach estates. It was gorgeous, all blue enamel and gold fretwork.
But it was nothing of this caliber. This is”—she seemed to search for just the right word—“this is a prize.”

“Coming through! Coming through!” called a loud voice. Theodosia, Drayton, Rinicker, and Grace all quickly stepped out of the way as two technicians from Channel 8, one carrying a video camera, and another juggling a large light and wearing a battery pack around his waist, pushed their way brusquely through the crowd.

“TV people have arrived,” Rinicker said.

“What?” Drayton jerked his head toward him.

“Oh, didn't you know?” Rinicker asked. “Channel 8 is here to cover the show. They're going to do some interviews and, I think, maybe even a live remote for their ten o'clock news.”

That was when Weston Keyes, the host of
Charleston Today
, suddenly appeared.

“'Scuse me, 'scuse me,” Keyes said, shouldering his way through the crowd. He was wearing a heavy veneer of pancake makeup and an expensive-looking tuxedo.

“Mmn,” Grace purred. “He's wearing a Brioni.”

“That's expensive?” Rinicker asked as Keyes hustled past them, looking both officious and a little harried.

“Gracious, yes,” Grace said.

Theodosia saw the boom light poke up high above the crowd and then bob dangerously close to the glass case where the Fabergé egg resided. Then it was pulled back just in the nick of time. One disaster averted, anyway.

“I think they're going to interview Timothy Neville,” Rinicker said. He smiled at Grace. “Come on, let's go watch. It might be fun.”

But Theodosia and Drayton hung back.

“Did you know about this?” Theodosia asked Drayton. “About the TV people coming in?”

Drayton shook his head. “I had no idea. In fact, I rather despise the idea of a media circus.”

“But it's probably good publicity,” Theodosia told him. “The show opens on Sunday to the general public, right?”

“I suppose.”

“Well, there you go.” She also figured that the all-seeing eye of a television camera, poised to capture any sudden moves, might serve as a serious deterrent to anyone who had plans to grab the egg.

Drayton nudged Theodosia. “There's Haley.” He lifted an arm and waved. “Haley, over here.”

Haley, looking radiant and youthful in her borrowed blue dress, scooted over to join them. “Hey, guys,” she bubbled. “What's up?” She'd swept her long blond hair into a topknot and, with high color in her cheeks, looked every inch the ingenue.

“Channel 8 just showed up to film the Fabergé egg,” Theodosia said.

Haley brightened. “Really? There's TV here? Cool.”

“Youth,” Drayton mumbled.

“What's that, Drayton?” Haley asked.

Drayton shrugged. “Nothing. Just making idle chatter.”

“Hey,” Haley said to Theodosia. “Great dress. And I love that sparkly pin you're wearing.”

“Thank you.” Theodosia grabbed one of Haley's hands. “And I'm so glad you came with us tonight.”

Haley grinned. “Well, I didn't exactly come
with
you.”

“You know what I mean. It gave Drayton a good excuse to cash in some of his currency as a board member. To add your name to the list with all the Gold Circle patrons.”

“Gotcha,” Haley said. She glanced around, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “I would so love a drink.”

“Let me . . .” Drayton said. He waved a hand at one of the waiters, who saw him, nodded, and started their way. “Here we go. This young man has a fresh tray of drinks for us . . .”

“Wonderful,” Theodosia said as the waiter slid to a graceful stop in front of her. He was tall with warm brown eyes
and long hair that was pulled neatly into a low ponytail. She grabbed a flute of champagne from the tray and smiled her thanks at the young waiter. Then her smile faltered and she said, “Wait a minute . . . Don't I know you?” His face swam into focus a little more clearly and she stammered, “Aren't you . . . ?”

“Billy Grainger,” Haley said.

Theodosia literally felt her jaw drop. “You're . . . one of the waiters here tonight?” Her words came out in a sharp rasp.

Grainger put one hand behind his back and nodded smartly. “At your service, ma'am.”