She did her best to rearrange her lips into a frown. “What makes you think it isn’t a lover’s spat, just as you said? That would explain everything, wouldn’t it?” It would, and rather neatly, too. She might have thought of it herself, but for the fact Peter Sharpe made her flesh crawl.
The judgmental eyebrow shot up again. Lord Gray almost looked as if he were disappointed in her. “Come now, Miss Monmouth. Is that truly the best you can do? A besotted lady doesn’t attempt to frame the gentleman she loves for a crime.”
“Certainly, she does. Have you forgotten your William Congreve, my lord? ‘Hell hath no fury,’ and all that. I’m a woman scorned who’s seeking revenge, nothing more, and a lover’s spat isn’t really a matter for the law, is it? Well, now that’s settled, I’ll justbe on my way—”
“I don’t think so, Miss Monmouth.” Sophia had reached for the door, but Lord Gray wrapped his fingers around her wrist, stopping her. “Mr. Sharpe gaped at you today as if he’d never set eyeson you before.”
He had gaped, hadn’t he? Yes, he’d gotten a good, long look at her. Another blunder, and she had no one but herself to blame for it. “Yes, well, gentlemen have short memories when it comes to their lovers, my lord.”
To Sophia’s surprise he laughed at that, the deep, rich timbre of it filling the carriage. “Some gentlemen perhaps, but I’m afraid your demeanor toward him isn’t very lover-like. You looked at him as if you’d happily see him swinging at the end of a noose.”
“Well, of course, I would. Really, Lord Gray. You don’t seem to know much about love affairs, or about revenge. Do you expect anything else from a lady whose lover has forsaken her?” Sophia sniffed. “I may be disappointed in love, but I dohave my pride.”
“I don’t doubt it. That may be the only true statement you’ve uttered since you got into my carriage, Miss Monmouth.” He studied her, as if not quite sure what to do with her next, then he reached into the breast pocket of his coat and pulled out her locket. “Tell me about this. Rather a nice piece. How do you happen to have it?”
“Did I steal it, you mean?” Of course, he would think so. How else wouldshe—a woman of no family, no name, and no means—have such a fine piece of jewelry if she hadn’t lifted it off some unsuspecting aristocrat?
“I’ll have an answer from you,Miss Monmouth.”
Sophia huffed. “Fine. It belongedto my mother.”
Lord Gray turned the locket over. “It’s inscribed. ‘To my beloved Arabella. Forever yours, Lawrence, 1774.’”
“Lovely sentiment, isn’t it?” Sophia’s laugh was bitter. “Forever, alas, turned out to be a great deal shorter than my mother expected.”
Lord Gray had been studying the locket, but now his gaze shifted to her face. “What does that mean?”
“What it always means.” Within three years of giving her mother the locket, Viscount Clifton, her mother’s protector at the time, had pledged his undying devotion to another mistress. Arabella Clifton, as she styled herself, had drifted from one lover to the next after that, with lessening degrees of success, until eventually she’d been driven into the streets to earn her living.
Less than a year later, she was dead.
It wasn’t a pleasant story, but neither was it an unusual one. Sophia didn’t intend to confide any of this to Lord Gray, however. “I told you already. Gentlemen have short memories when it comes totheir lovers.”
“So you did.” Lord Gray held up the locket, letting it dangle between his fingers. “You must bear Peter Sharpe quite a grudge, Miss Monmouth, to risk such a treasure. What did you hope to gain with such a trick? To see Sharpe takenup for theft?”
Sophia’s gaze followed the locket as it swung gently back and forth in Lord Gray’s long, scarred fingers. She clenched her hands in her lap to keep from snatching itaway from him.
Her memories of her mother were worn and faded now, like a letter she’d read too often, but the locket was different. It was something Sophia could hold in her hand, tangible proof of a mother she’d loved, and failed, and now could no longer remember.
It was the only possession she had that was trulyhers, that meant something to her. Losing it would be as painful as severing a limb, but planting it on Sharpe was the only way she could think of to gain the upper hand on him. She’d been willing to risk sacrificing it for Jeremy’s sake, yes, but she’d had every intention of getting it back.
Lord Gray was wrong about one thing, though. She hadn’t intended for Sharpe to be taken up for theft. Sophia didn’t have any faith in the justice system, but she did respect the justice of the streets. She’d been well aware once she cried theft the men at the pub wouldn’t bother to verify the crime before they threatened to beatSharpe bloody.
Sharpe was a coward, like most men of his ilk, the sort who collapsed at the first threat of violence. Sophia had planned to let him panic for a while, then withdraw her accusation just in time to save him—provided, of course, he chose to be forthcoming about his reasons for accusing Jeremy of theft.
It wasn’t, admittedly, one of her cleverest plans, but after listening to Sharpe’s testimony this morning she’d been desperate todosomething, to somehow hold him to account for his lies.
Lady Clifford was going to be appalled when she found out what Sophia had done. Above all else, she’d taught them to be cautious. Cautiousness, alas, had never been Sophia’s strength. She tended to leap first, then figure out the rest while she was flying through the air.
Unnecessary risk, Sophia.
Except to Sophia’s thinking, itwasnecessary. Jeremy hadn’t committed any crime. Sharpe hadn’t accused Jeremy because he was guilty, so he must have done it for some other reason. Sophia wanted to know what it was, and she’d been close to finding it out before Lord Gray had rendered all her efforts on Jeremy’sbehalf useless.
Again.
“Miss Monmouth? Would you care to explain to me why you attempted to frame Mr. Sharpe for a crime of whichhe’s innocent?”
Another laugh rose to Sophia’s lips, the taste of it bitter on her tongue. Peter Sharpe might not have taken her locket, but he was far from innocent. It mattered little to her which crime he was punished for, as long as he was punished.
