‘The Duke of Blackmore sends his apologies,’ the Reverend went on hurriedly. ‘Unfortunately, my lord, as I believe he informed you, his grace had accepted a former engagement for this evening and requested that we attend in his stead.’
‘And you are?’ quizzed the Earl, his strange eyes regarding them both suspiciously.
‘I am her grace, the Duchess of Blackmore’s father, and this is my daughter Patience,’ the Reverend returned obsequiously, ‘and may I say what an honour it is to be representing Blackmore at a soiree held by such an eminent personage.’ Patience cringed as her father completely ignored his own earlier advice. Glancing up at him in dismay, she abruptly realised he was as much a fish out of water as she. The large man’s face was perspiring, and he was tugging at his dog collar as though he was afraid it might choke him.
Suddenly fearing he might actually turn tail and run, Patience took hold of her father’s arm again and smiled brightly up at the Earl. ‘It is indeed an honour,’ she enthused. ‘I am entirely unused to such gatherings and was beyond thrilled when the Duke, my brother-in-law, suggested you would be delighted to have us attend in his stead.’ She batted her eyelashes as she’d observed Temperance do before finishing in her most coquettish voice, ‘I was sooo looking forward to making your lordship’s acquaintance.’ Lastly, entirely ignoring her father’s look of incredulity, she actually giggled, causing the Reverend to spill most of his punch down his best cassock.
Much to their relief, the Earl finally gave a slight bow. ‘How thoughtful of his grace to send someone in his stead,’ he commented disdainfully. ‘Indeed, I had no idea his family was so … eclectic. It must certainly make for diverse conversation.’ He gave the barest nod of his head and added, ‘Please excuse me,’ before turning his back on them, clearly intending to return to his more distinguished guests.
‘Deuced rag-mannered jackanape,’ muttered the Reverend through gritted teeth.
‘Does he intend to throw us out, do you think?’ commented Patience fighting the urge to give the arrogant cad a helping hand down the stairs with the end of her foot.
‘I doubt it,’ retorted her father. ‘He may be accustomed to toadying up to Prince George, but I don’t believe he would dare risk truly offending the Duke of Blackmore. Nicholas still has a lot of friends in very high places.’
‘If I had any qualms at all about lending Lord Guildford our support,’ Patience almost growled, ‘they have just disappeared in a puff of smoke.’ She finished her punch and slammed the glass on a table. ‘I believe it’s time we did some snooping.’
∞∞∞
Max was finding it difficult to sit still for any longer than a few seconds. He’d already consumed half a bottle of brandy in an effort to allay his guilt. In truth he felt like a veritable coward, sending a chit of a girl and a bumpkin clergyman into the house of a man he was certain was at best a cheat and a liar, and worst? He did not dare speculate. His ongoing investigations into Bamford’s affairs did not make pretty reading.
Despite the fact that she’d been ordered to merely look around, Max was desperately afraid Patience would be unable to resist taking matters a step further. He had known her for three days.Three daysand already he was acquainted with her recklessness. He ran his fingers through his hair in an agony of self-recrimination. What the bloody hell had he been thinking? If she was caught red-handed, even the Duke of Blackmore would not be able to save her, especially if her father’s involvement also became common knowledge.
Max helped himself to another brandy, relishing the burn of the fiery liquid as he swallowed it in one go. If Patience Shackleford got caught, her longing for comfortable obscurity would disappear out of the window. Forever.
∞∞∞
After nearly an hour of wandering Bamford’s house, dodging guests and servants alike, the two unlikely sleuths had finally located what they believed was the Earl’s study. The door was not locked, but even if it had been it wouldn’t have provided much in the way of an obstacle.
‘The Marquess was entirely clear in his instructions to do no more thanlook around,’ Reverend Shackleford whispered as Patience began searching behind pictures and tapping on walls.
‘Iamlooking around,’ she answered, her nonchalant voice nearly causing her father an apoplexy.
Grinding his teeth, the Reverend helplessly watched her inspect every surface, wondering how far his reckless, irrational, not to mention entirelyunpredictabledaughter was likely to go. Short of dragging her out of the room kicking and screaming, he could only maintain his position by the study door and listen for anybody coming.
‘This was not the plan,’ he repeated, his ear to the keyhole. ‘What do you think will happen if we get caught?’
‘We won’t,’ was all Patience murmured in response, sliding books out of their shelves to have a look behind. Unlike earlier, she now appeared completely in her element. So much so that the Reverend had a sudden shocking thought.
She’d done this before.
Unable to prevent it, he uttered a small groan of despair. Already his mind was busy imagining Patience dressed in a man’s black shirt and breeches whilst slithering down a rope after stealing some priceless jewel from under the nose of a wealthy dowager. No wonder she’d been so keen to assist the Marquess of Guildford. She was already an experienced rum dubber. Disastrous scenarios, each worse than the last, chased one after the other through his head.
Suddenly, he heard voices.
‘There’s someone coming,’ he hissed, looking wildly around for a hiding place.
Patience let her eyes travel around the room before settling on the floor-length curtains. ‘Behind there,’ she ordered, pointing to the beautifully draped silk covering the study window. A moment later, they were enveloped in the lavish fabric. ‘There are two deuced layers,’ muttered the Reverend. ‘Which one do I stand behind?’
‘Don’t move,’ whispered Patience as her father flapped ineffectually at the additional layer of muslin secured to the window.
Seconds later, the door opened. ‘Bring me a new decanter of brandy,’ a voice ordered before shutting the door. ‘Tare an’ hounds,’ breathed the Reverend under his breath, ‘we could be here for hours.’
Patience peeked through the smallest chink in the curtains and spied the Earl of Bamford seating himself in a chair before the fireplace. Despite the chill in the air, the fire was unlit, but the Earl did not seem to notice the cold. Indeed, neither did Patience, for underneath her calm exterior, the sweat was trickling down her back. If they should be caught now, she knew there would be no reprieve. She could only hope that Bamford would not leave his guests for too long.
After what felt like forever there was a knock on the door. Patience was able to see the butler place a decanter of brandy and a glass on the table beside his employer. Zounds, she hoped he didn’t intend to drink the whole deuced bottle. With a short bow, the servant withdrew, and for long seconds, the Earl did nothing. Then, almost making her jump, he abruptly leaned forward and poured himself a measure. After taking a sip, he rose and moved out of her eyeline. She could hear a rustling followed by the sound of something opening, then closing seconds later. Suddenly, Bamford was back in her sight, and she stifled a gasp. He was holding what could only be the Marquess’s diamond.
Truly it was beautiful, the largest diamond she’d ever seen winking in the candlelight. He sat back down in his seat and held the stone up in front of him, turning it this way and that and causing fantastical shadows to dance on the walls. A few seconds later, taking a cloth from his pocket, he lovingly rubbed at the surface before holding it up again. Finally, giving a low chuckle that made the hairs on her arms rise up, he clambered to his feet and moved out of her vision. Clearly, he was replacing the diamond in its hiding place. But where?
