The Viscount's Revenge (The Royal Ambition Series Book 4) (15 page)

Her determination was further cemented a few days later when she received a letter from Richard. He had reclaimed the jewels and burned the masks and wigs and hats. He had stayed at Bellingham, being frightened to show his face at Hember Cross. He had learned Mr. Cartwright-Browne had found Mr. Brotherington snooping around the garden of Fox End and was charging him with trespass. On the day of the court hearing, Richard had gone to Fox End and had affected to be surprised to find the master not at home. He had told Mr. Cartwright-Browne’s butler that he would like to see his horse, Caesar.

Once in the stable, he had locked the doors and unearthed the jewels. He would return to London during the small hours of Sunday morning.

Amanda was to creep down the stairs and unbar the door. They would leave the jewel box in the hall.

Amanda gave a sigh of relief. She sat down with the letter crushed in her hand, her legs trembling. All at once she realized she had been living all the time since her arrival in London in great fear of being found out. Now the nightmare was over.

Life had become ordinary. She was used to London society. She must grow up and find herself a husband and then remove herself as far away from Lord Hawksborough’s unsettling personality as possible.

On Saturday, they were to see Kean perform in
Othello
, so Amanda was confident of being back in Berkeley Square well before two o’clock in the morning.

The party for the theater was made up of Mrs. Fitzgerald; Aunt Matilda; Lady Mary; Susan Fitzgerald; Amanda; the beautiful Mr. Dalzell, who was being encouraged in his attentions to Susan by Mrs. Fitzgerald, who had found out that the young man had a not inconsiderable fortune; Lord Box, an elderly friend of Mrs. Fitzgerald’s; Colonel John Withers of the Hussars, a ferocious military gentleman who seemed quite dazzled by Lady Mary; and Mr. Tom Moore, the poet.

The performance absorbed Amanda’s attention completely. Kean’s acting was superb.

And when the performance was over and Mr. Moore offered to escort them to the green room to meet the great man, Amanda was so excited at the thought of meeting the actor that she forgot about the jewel box and the time.

The green room was a small apartment with a large looking glass and a sofa all around it—yellow, not green.

Mr. Kean at last made his offstage entrance. He was a very short man, wearing a pepper-and-salt suit. But he was strongly made and wide-shouldered, with a hollow, sallow face and thick black hair. Mr. Moore asked after his health and he replied mildly that it was tolerable but that he was having trouble with his voice.

Amanda had heard reports of the actor’s amusing stories, but he seemed tired that night, and uncomfortable in the presence of so many strangers.

Miss Smith, who had played Desdemona, came in, and Mrs. Fitzgerald remarked loudly that she bore a marked resemblance to Lady Tavistock—a middle-aged peeress famous for the amount of paint with which she bedaubed her face and bosom—and Susan cackled with laughter.

Mr. Moore winced and brought the audience to an end. Not for the first time did Amanda wonder how Lord Hawksborough had managed to acquire such charm and ease of manner. Not from his mother anyway.

Then she remembered Richard and the jewels, and was all at once in a fever to be gone.

The wait for the carriages seemed endless; then there was chitchat over the tea tray at Berkeley Square for what seemed hours, although it was only half an hour, and at last everyone, with the exception of that almost permanent houseguest, Lady Mary, left.

Amanda sat on the edge of her bed, watching the little gilt clock on the mantel, her heart thudding so loudly that it seemed to drown out the chattering tick-tock of the clock.

The time was one-thirty. How slowly the hands moved at first! And how fast they began to race as two o’clock neared!

She crept very quietly down the stairs, still wearing the blue silk gown she had worn to the theater—a Christmas present from Mrs. Fitzgerald.

The long train of the dress made a soft shur-shurring sound on the stairs and she impatiently caught it up and carried it over her arm.

Very quietly she unbarred the door and then turned the great key in the lock.

The grandfather clock behind her gave a loud whir preparatory to striking the hour and she nearly jumped out of her skin with fright.

A fire was burning in the hall and the flames sent their shadows dancing up the walls. In every moving shadow she thought she saw the heavy, bulky figure of the thief-taker.

And then the door began to open.

“Richard,” hissed Amanda as he cautiously put his head around the door. “Oh, Richard! I thought you would never come!” And great tears of relief began to roll down her face.

“Stop blubbing,” he said sharply, “and help me with the curst box.”

It was a small square black iron box with a handle at either end. Amanda seized one handle and Richard took the other. They lowered the box gently to the floor.

“I’ve got a note,” said Richard. “I scribbled it to make it look as if it had been written by a semiliterate person.”

“What did you say?”

“Only ‘Here’s the jewels. We’re sorry.’”

“Can you stay?”

“Of course I can’t, stoopid. How is Susan?”

“Very well. She is quite the fashion.”

“
Susan
!”

“Yes, Susan. And she has become amazing vain.”

“Now, Amanda, you’re jealous.”

“I am not jealous!”

“Who’s there!” cried a voice from upstairs.

Amanda and Richard clutched each other in fright.

“Quickly! Go!” said Amanda.

“No. Whoever it is might give chase, and I’ll be caught by the watch,” hissed Richard. “Hide! Over here!”

They crept quietly into a corner of the hall, far away from the dancing light of the fire, and hid behind the massive grandfather clock.

They heard the soft swish of silk, and then a man’s voice calling again. “Who’s below?”

Silence.

Richard looked around the corner of the clock and gave a muttered exclamation of dismay. Amanda put her hand softly over his mouth and then asked softly, “Who is it?”

“Hawksborough,” said Richard in a faint whisper.

Steps could be heard descending the stairs. Holding a candle, Lord Hawksborough walked across the hall to the door. He was wearing a magnificent peacock-blue silk dressing gown with gold frogs.

He almost stumbled over the box. He stopped and looked down. Slowly he stooped and picked up the letter which was lying on top of the box and quickly scanned the contents. His face looked hard and grim.

He picked up the box and tucked it under one arm. Then he raised his candle high and his eyes raked around the hall.

Then he crossed quickly to the wall opposite from where Richard and Amanda were standing and pulled savagely on the bell rope.

Richard felt behind him with his hand and found the door to the Red Drawing Room. He opened the door and gently eased himself and Amanda inside and thankfully closed the door.

They stayed close together, pressing their ears to the panels of the door, hearing the sleepy, protesting voice of the butler saying that the outside door had been barred because he had seen to it himself.

More servants were called, and more questions.

What if they search the house! thought Amanda wildly. How could she explain Richard’s presence?

At last there was the sound of the door being barred and locked again.

More voices, and then silence.

Still they waited. “Half-past two and a starry night. All’s well!” called the gloomy voice of the watch from the square.

Only half an hour, thought Amanda. I feel as if we have been waiting here a lifetime.

They waited and waited until at last they heard the watch cry the three o’clock. Both of them were stiff with cold and tension.

“Now!” said Richard.

He gently eased open the door of the Red Drawing Room and they slipped into the hall.

The fire had died down and the hall was shrouded in a welcome blackness.

Taking infinite pains not to make the slightest noise, Richard unbarred the door. He gave Amanda a quick hug, and vanished as silently as a shadow out into the street.

Forcing herself not to rush, Amanda lowered the bars over the door and softly turned the key again, and locked it.

It took a tremendous effort not to make a blind headlong dash for the stairs.

She moved slowly and carefully, putting one foot in front of the other, holding her train over her arm.

She passed the oil lamp’s light of the first landing, and thankfully ascended up into the darkness of the second flight of stairs.

A sound below made her swing around, and for one split second she saw Lord Hawksborough, and immediately turned fully around as if she were descending the stairs. And not a moment too soon. For he held up his candle so that the ring of light caught the hem of her dress.

“It’s Amanda, isn’t it?” he said. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“Welcome home, my lord,” said Amanda, coming down the stairs, amazed to find her own voice sounding so calm. “I could not sleep and thought I heard a noise and came to investigate.”

“It is obvious you could not sleep,” he said, looking her up and down. “You are still fully dressed. You may as well come and talk to me.” He turned and led the way to the library.

Amanda knew that she should plead fatigue, in case something in her face gave her away. And she did not mean to betray her knowledge of the theft of the jewels. She was frightened he would read in her eyes her overwhelming happiness that he was home again. But he drew her like a magnet.

He lit the candle in the library and turned and looked at her again. For a long moment they studied each other. He was wearing a thin cambric nightshirt under his dressing gown and his black hair was tousled as if he had run his fingers through it. His bare feet were thrust into red morocco slippers.

Lord Hawksborough thought Amanda had changed. The blue gown was cut low to reveal the top halves of her two excellent white breasts. Her hair had been curled and arranged in a Grecian style for the play, but now it was reverting to its usual cloud of curls which framed her piquant face and elfin eyes.

He felt something tug at his heart and quickly told her about finding the jewels.

To his surprise, she did not exclaim or look startled, merely said in a matter-of-fact way, “Well, Mr. Townsend will be glad to stop his search.”

“Why should he do that?” asked Lord Hawksborough. “Do not stand over by the door, Amanda. Come and sit by the fire. I have no intention of calling off Mr. Townsend. I want these thieves arrested.”

“But why?” asked Amanda, moving quickly to the seat by the fire and averting her face from his so that he might not see her distress. “You have the jewels.”

“My dear Amanda, I have the jewels, as you point out. I also have my pride. One of these ruffians had the temerity to rob me from the back of a donkey. A donkey! And the other deliberately set out to humiliate me by taking my ring. That ring, my dear Amanda, was a personal present from the Prince Regent when I was awarded my viscountcy.”

“But—”

“I weary of this perpetual topic of the highwaymen. Forget them. It is a job for the law. Now, tell me how you have been getting on.”

He sat down opposite her, and the warmth in his eyes made Amanda want to cry.

He had no right to walk back into her life and casually pick up her heart and wrench it like a spoiled child mangling a cast-off toy.

“When did you get back?” she asked.

“This evening. While you were at the play. I was tired and went straight to bed. Something awoke me. I thought I heard a faint sound from below. But that brings us back to the jewels.” He moved to pour her a glass of wine and the great ruby ring once more blazed on his hand. “Tell me how you go on,” he insisted. “Have you a beau?”

“Not yet.” Amanda smiled. “It is Susan who is become the
succès fou
of society. She is become the fashion.”

“I hope it does not go to her head. Eccentrics are often fêted out of Season and totally ignored in it. Or has her manner changed?”

“I don’t know. Yes… it has changed…”

“But not for the better?”

“I did not say that.”

“But your eyes did. Also that quick nervous turn of your head.
You
have changed. You are become a woman, Amanda.”

His eyes rested fleetingly on her bosom and returned to her face.

“And you,” said Amanda. “Was your business successful?”

“I achieved what I set out to achieve, in one way. In the other, no, I think I have failed to convince my masters of the seriousness of the situation.”