“Yes, I saw your cousin. Must say, I was surprised. Not usually his sort of affair, this,” the fellow remarked.
“I know, but I was bored. Been an age since I was in town, so I badgered him into it,” Aubrey said with a grin, wishing the fellow to perdition.
“All that country living ain’t doing you any favours, my lad, if you don’t mind me mentioning it. That waistcoat is frightfully tight. The buttons look to be under unreasonable strain. You’ll take someone’s eye out if it bursts,” Fortesque said, laughing heartily at his own witticism.
“Quite,” Aubrey said, annoyed not least because he was horribly aware of the fact he looked a very odd shape, for one of Alice’s gowns was wound about his waist.
“Ah, that’s the quadrille. I’m promised for this one. I shall see you anon, old man.”
“Not if I see you first,” Aubrey muttered under his breath as Fortesque hurried away.
Lady Jefferson’s Ball, Mayfair, London, 19th ofJanuary 1816
Alfie hurried up the servants' stairs, but this time did not exit onto the entrance hall. The activity in the kitchens was reaching fever pitch as the supper hour grew closer, and the footmen were also in high demand as everyone wished for a glass of champagne to enjoy whilst watching the fireworks, which would begin shortly.
Setting the full tray he’d gathered out of sight in a cupboard that seemed to be filled with cleaning products, Alfie hurriedly closed the doors before hastening along the corridor to the stairs that led to the first floor. As he went up, he heard quick footsteps clattering down and braced himself.
A housemaid appeared, a pile of clean linen in her arms and she gave a little shriek as she turned the corner and saw Alfie.
“Oh, my days! Oh, you did give me a turn,” she complained, pressing her hand to her heart. “What the devil are you doing up here? Ain’t you supposed to be serving the drinks?”
Alfie’s heart kicked in his chest as he replied. “Aye, I was, but I was sent to fetch more candles. We’ve run out, if you can believe it. Keith said there’s a spare box in one of the landing cupboards? For heaven’s sake, don’t tell the housekeeper, she’ll never let the old fellow hear the end of it.”
The little maid snorted. “Oh, she wouldn’t neither, crabby old witch. Anyway, that’s right, closest would be the one by the blue guest bedroom. Well, you’d best get a move on, for they’ll be changing them whilst everyone is watching the fireworks.”
“I’m moving!” Alfie said with a sharp nod, taking the stairs two at a time as the maid carried on her way down. He let out a shaky sigh of relief and listened at the door before turning the handle quietly and peering out along the corridor of the first-floor landing.
Silence greeted him, and he stepped out into the darkness. Alfie spared a moment to wonder what Lill was doing. If they were both at home, they’d be saying goodnight about now, ready to tuck themselves up in their cosy beds after an evening chatting over dinner, playing cards or reading the latest novel Alice had bought. A swell of longing for the safety and comfort of that scene filled Alfie’s chest, and he batted it away irritably. He did not have time for such thoughts, yet his mind moved on, next wondering what Aubrey had said when Lill had told him Alice had gone visiting friends and left without a word. The pain that lanced through his heart was sharper and fiercer this time and Alfie took a steadying breath. Aubrey needed to know the truth. He thought he knew it already, but he hadn’t really faced it. This time he could not avoid looking it in the eye. He’d realise then, of course, that there was no future for them. It was for the best.
Yet suddenly Alfie could not breathe. He paused, leaning against the wall and forcing himself to take a long, steadyingbreath, filling his lungs and letting it out again slowly. Gradually his heartbeat returned to normal.For God’s sake, you’re a professional, act like it!
Having given himself a good scold, Alfie set off once more, hurrying to the door of Lord Jefferson’s study without incident. Satisfied that he was alone, Alfie sank to his knees and took out the velvet pouch that held his lockpicks. A lamp farther along the corridor was the only illumination, spilling an indifferent light over the scene, but enough that Alfie could see how badly his hands were shaking. Irritably, he clenched and unclenched them a few times before taking up the lockpicks again. Breathing shallowly, he concentrated on the lock, aware now of the beating of his own heart and the faint strains of the orchestra playing in the ballroom on the other side of the great house.
“Come on, come on,” Alfie growled under his breath, his anxiety ratcheting up a notch as the bloody lock failed to give way. Typical of Jefferson. He’d tried to screw Alfie on the price of the diamonds though they were worth many times more than what Alfie had asked, so it stood to reason he’d run his household on a shoestring. Oiling door handles and locks was obviously not high on his list of priorities. He bet his housekeeper loathed him, no wonder the poor woman was crabby.
Finally, Alfie heard the satisfying snick of the latch giving way, and not a moment too soon as whispered voices sounded from down the corridor. Springing to his feet, Alfie opened the door and slipped inside, closing it again behind him. Hardly daring to breathe, he waited, his ear to the door as the voices grew nearer.
“You’re sure it’s this way?”
“Aye, her ladyship’s bedroom is at the end of the corridor. Silas reckons they’re most likely in her boudoir. According to her lady’s maid, she keeps all her jewels there.”
Alfie let out an unsteady breath as the men hurried past, smiling grimly to as he recognised Tommy’s voice. What her ladyship’s maid did not know was that most of the jewels she owned were paste. The diamonds were genuine, which was why Jefferson had kept hold of them himself. One never knew when one might need to sell them to cover a gaming debt, though in that instance he’d be able get a paste copy done to satisfy his wife, who would be none the wiser, the poor dupe.
It would not take long for Silas’s men to discover the truth, though, not once they’d found the things. Alfie prayed that would take a while as he hurried to the bookshelf and located the row of false books. His lordship didn’t realise Alfie knew about them. He’d thought Alfie had left the building when he put his new acquisition in the safe after their transaction. But then the upper classes could be remarkably foolish about their own safety, and leaving a fellow Lord Jefferson had thought to be below his notice to make his own way out had been his first mistake.
Hurrying to the desk, Alfie got out a small tinderbox and lit a lamp, turning it down low so the room was only dimly lit. He took it over to the bookshelf and set it down out of the way.
Lifting the fake books aside, Alfie regarded the heavy iron strongbox with a jolt of anticipation. As much as he wanted this done and to get out fast, he could not deny the challenge of besting the complex locking system, of pitting his own skills against a master locksmith, never got old.
The safe was a hefty, black painted affair, the surface pitted and the edges reinforced with thick bands of steel. A large ornatekeyhole glowered back at him in the dim light, above it an effective tumbler lock. Taking a steadying breath, Alfie reached for his tools again. The lock relied on a warded mechanism, a series of internal obstructions that only the correct key could bypass. But Alfie had seen dozens like it in his time, and every one had fallen to his clever fingers.
Breathing evenly, everything else faded. The room ceased to exist, the house, Silas’s men, the throngs of wealthy guests gathering to watch the fireworks, there was nothing but Alfie and the lock. Selecting an L-shaped pick and a tension wrench, Alfie inserted them with care. The wards resisted, stubbornly refusing to budge, but Alfie persisted, gently teasing, persuading, until he felt the subtle give, the faint click as the pick found the right path. Sweat trickled down Alfie’s back, making him shiver, though whether he was hot or cold he could not have said.
A sudden explosion of sound made him nearly leap out of his skin, almost dropping his tools as the room lit up.
“Fireworks, you pillock,” he muttered, willing his heartbeat to return to normal as visions of gunshots and Lord Jefferson standing in the doorway with a smoking pistol receded from his overwrought imagination. Taking a few more steadying breaths, Alfie returned to his work, listening carefully until, with a final, firm twist, there was a soft metallic snick that made him want to jump about and dance with relief. Firmly reminding himself he was a long way from victory yet, Alfie eased open the heavy door. Inside, nestled among ledgers and a substantial roll of banknotes, lay the leather box that Alfie remembered. Reaching for it, Alfie opened the box, relief flooding him as he saw the diamonds.Thank the lord.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a clean white handkerchief and spread it on the carpet beneath him. With less care than he might have otherwise shown, Alfie tipped the diamonds out, wrapped them up, and slid them into his pocket. Replacing the empty box in the safe, he hesitated. Aubrey would murder him for taking more than the diamonds, yet Silas would never leave all that cash, nor the paperwork that might prove to be valuable. Well, the paperwork was too bulky, too much of a risk, he reasoned, but after another second of indecision, swiped the cash—for the sake of verisimilitude, he assured himself firmly.
