“Canning is a good enough Tory chap, even if he is the son of an actress and a solicitor.”
Titters floated around the box.
“Wellington and Peel won’t serve under him. He’ll split the party.”
“He’ll have to invite Whigs to serve in his cabinet at this rate. Won’t last the year, you watch.”
Lady Selborne spoke up. “This is to be a night for gaiety, gentlemen. No more of your politics.”
Like that, talk returned to balls, fashion, and horseflesh.
“Lady Selborne,” began Hortense, “your tiara is absolutely stunning. Is it a family heirloom?”
Only now did Jamie notice the tiara perched atop Lady Selborne’s head. Platinum, diamonds, sapphires—well, paste ones.
This tiara was the replica they sought and a stroke of great good luck. It was both still in the possession of Rothesbury and in London. Now it was certain. They would be able to switch and steal it.
Hortense had likely noticed it the instant they entered the supper box. She kept her head, his wife.
Before Lady Selborne could reply, Rothesbury said on a malicious chuckle, “Oh, her family had to sell their jewels decades ago. Poor as church mice, aren’t they now?”
Lady Selborne laughed along, but the humor didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“No, this lovely jewel belongs to the Dukes of Rothesbury and their duchesses.” No one had the temerity to point out that Lady Selborne was, in fact,nota Duchess of Rothesbury.
Smartly, Hortense didn’t acknowledge the sour exchange, instead proclaiming, “I simply adore sapphires.”
“To match your eyes,” Rothesbury said ardently, as if he’d channeled the poet Keats for his laughably banal observation.
“Not remotely close to the mark,” Jamie said. He’d had enough.
Rothesbury’s eyebrows lifted. He was a duke. No one, save a king, nay-sayed him. “Pardon?”
“Sapphires are a dull shade compared to my wife’s eyes.”
Smiles twitched about mouths and eyes danced with humor. He’d just revealed himself to be utterly—vulgarly, stupidly—besotted with his bride.
“You’ve already married her, Clare,” said Rothesbury. “You don’t have to spout poetry at her anymore.”
Jamie refused to feel embarrassed. “It’s only true.”
Hortense caught his gaze. Though her eyes flashed with the merriment being had by all at his expense, he detected concern. She had misgivings about his ability to hold himself together in this company. And she was right to wonder.
He questioned his ability himself.
“Lady Clare,” said Lady Selborne, “you and Rothesbury have become such fast friends, let us trade seats so you can speak more freely.”
“What generosity of spirit, Lady Selborne,” Hortense exclaimed, making the switch. Now, no barrier came between her and Rothesbury.
Jamie had no time to stew about this development for Lady Selborne was crooking her finger at him. “Lord Clare, I find myself with an empty chair beside me.” She gave the cushion three quick pats. “Shall we better acquaint ourselves with one another?”
Unable to refuse, he took the proffered seat beside the lady, yet he couldn’t think of one thing to say.
Unfortunately, the lady had no such difficulty. She leaned close enough that he could feel her breath on his neck when she spoke. “You are so very earnest these days, Clare. I do not remember this about you.”
“Sorry to disappoint,” he said, terse, distracted. Hortense was now batting Rothesbury with her fan and calling him a naughty, naughty man. If a man’s blood could boil inside his veins, Jamie’s surely was.
A feminine hand on his knee pulled his attention toward Lady Selborne staring intently into his face. “Oh, I rather like an earnest man,” she said. “I find they make the best—”
