‘It’s a drawer,’ Patience exclaimed in surprise. She gave a quick incredulous glance at the Marquess, then leaned forward and peered inside. There, nestled in the finest silk laySepideh, the Wolverton diamond.
Reverently, she lifted the stone out of its hiding place, and with a wide smile, held it out to the Marquess.
Resisting the urge to shout in triumph, Max took the diamond from her and tucked it inside his coat while Patience slid the narrow drawer back into its original position and replaced the books.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps reached them. Someone was coming.
‘We need to move,’ Max hissed, quickly helping Patience to her feet and pushing her towards the window.
‘The candle,’ Patience whispered urgently. With a soft oath, Max strode back and moved the candle to its original position, just as a key turned in the door. He just managed to slide behind the curtains as the door was pushed open. Luckily, the servant did not notice the slight trembling of the drapes, or if she did, attributed it to the flickering candlelight.
Without pause, the house maid put out one candle and picked up the other. Max and Patience held their breaths as the servant went back through the door and shut it behind her, leaving them both standing in total darkness.
∞∞∞
‘We’re still wearing our cassocks, Sir,’ Percy hissed as he hurried behind the Reverend.
‘The Lord’s work is not just done from behind a pulpit,’ Augustus Shackleford declared piously as they reached the dilapidated door through which they’d seen the Earl disappear.
‘You mean to preach in there?’ the small man squeaked.
‘No, you are,’ was the Reverend’s blithe response.
‘I … I …, no I couldn’t possibly,’ stammered Percy looking at his superior in horror.
‘Well, I can’t do it. Old Bamford will likely recognise me from his deuced party.’ Reverend Shackleford nodded reassuringly. ‘I’ll be right behind you, Percy lad. You don’t need to do a full sermon; a couple of Hail Marys should suffice while I lurk behind you and see if I can spot the Earl.’
‘They’ll throw us out, or … or … worse,’ Percy groaned.
‘Don’t be such a chucklehead,’ the Reverend grumbled, attempting to look through the keyhole.
‘Patience said you weren’t to indulge in any reckless behaviour,’ Percy finally hissed desperately.
To the curate’s surprise, his frantic words caused the Reverend to pause with his hand on the doorknob.
‘Thunder an’ turf, mayhap you’re right, Percy lad,’ Augustus Shackleford muttered. ‘Sometimes I’m too fearless for my own good.’ He patted the small man on the shoulder before adding, ‘I’ll wait here while you go and have a look round the back.’ He smiled encouragingly at the curate who was going an unpleasant shade of corpse.
‘If we cover both entrances, the scoundrel won’t be able to slip away without us noticing,’ Reverend Shackleford reasoned, wondering if Percy had lost his tongue.
Unfortunately, his explanation didn’t appear to be doing much for his curate’s vocal cords. In fact, the small man now looked ready to bolt.
Sighing, the Reverend reluctantly conceded. ‘Very well, you stay here Percy, andI’llgo round the back.’
‘No deuced backbone,’ the clergyman grumbled as he picked his way towards the back alleyway. ‘Tare an’ hounds,’ he muttered after a few seconds, ‘I think I’ve trodden in something nasty.’
Concealing himself in the shadows, Percy waited anxiously for the sound of the Reverend’s footsteps returning. A half an hour later there was still no sign of the clergyman, and the small man had no idea what to do. Visions of the Reverend’s possible fate ran through his head, each imagining more gruesome than the last.
Indeed, he’d just got around to planning the Reverend’s eulogy, when the door abruptly opened. Shrinking further back into the darkness, Percy couldn’t entirely stifle a slight moan when he recognised the portly figure of the Earl of Bamford.
Placing his top hat jauntily on his head, the Earl stepped into the meagre pool of light provided by the single lantern hanging next to the brothel’s entrance. He was clearly waiting for his carriage to be brought round.
Was the Earl still intending to go on to the May ball? The curate had no idea. The hour was getting late, so mayhap he was planning to return home. Percy hesitated. If his dearest and oldest friend and mentor had indeed had his life so vilely snuffed out, would he not assume his curate would somehow uncover a backbone and do something to prevent Patience from ending up with the same cruel fate?
Recognising he only had minutes at best before the Earl’s conveyance arrived, Percy gritted his teeth and stepped out of the shadows. As soon as he was close enough, the curate took a deep breath and tapped Lord Bamford on the shoulder. Surprise made the Earl turn round quicker than perhaps was wise, given that the man was almost certainly jug-bitten. Overcome by sudden dizziness, he promptly overbalanced and fell forward, his ‘oomph’ cut abruptly short as his face collided most satisfactorily with the end of Percy’s fist.
Chapter Sixteen
It was a full five minutes before Max and Patience dared move from their hiding place, and only when they were certain that the housemaid was not coming back, did they ease open the French-style doors leading to the garden beyond. Shutting the doors carefully behind them, Patience made a face though the Marquess was unable to see it in the stygian darkness. ‘I cannot lock it again, I’m afraid,’ she whispered, so I suspect it won’t be long before Bamford realises someone’s been in – even if he doesn’t immediately discover Sepideh is missing.’
