“What a wonderful suggestion!” Lord Stoneleigh leapt to his feet. “Indeed, you must, Miss Thorne. I’m a great believer in exercise, and one can’t have too much fresh air, you know. I wouldn’t wish you to become ill.” He gave the duke and duchess a deep bow, then offered his arm to Prue. “Shall we?”
Prue blinked as all three pairs of eyes turned on her at once, Franny’s unmistakably eager, and Lord Stoneleigh’s expectant. As for the duke, he looked as if he were about to slip into another doze, but still, a refusal was out of the question.
So, she rose to her feet, a smile stretching her lips, and took Lord Stoneleigh’s arm. “Indeed, my lord, a walk sounds lovely.”
Yes, perfectly lovely. Lord Stoneleigh was a good man—not a thing wrong with him—yet somehow, as he drew her hand through his elbow and led her away, a hollow space yawned open inside her chest.
Somehow, she couldn’t imagine herself ever living for Lord Stoneleigh’s smiles, as Franny and her duke did for each other’s, but she was back to the cloud-enveloped castles and winged horses she’d been daydreaming of this morning.
She was no longer a child, with a child’s starry-eyed dreams. She was a grown woman now, and there was no sense in wishing for things that could never be.
* * *
It was a great pity Jasper had never listened to his grandfather’s lectures about the sins of laziness, because if he had, he’d have realized he’d lost the ruby earrings far sooner than he did.
But if hehadbeen lazy, it was all the fault of Basingstoke’s torturous chair. A night spent tossing and turning upon that villainous contraption was enough to send the most vigorous gentleman directly to his bed for the rest of the morning.
Most of the afternoon as well, as it happened.
He’d awoken at last and was lounging against the headboard atop a mountain of pillows, still blinking the sleep from his eyes when Loftus appeared with a silver tray in his hands. “Good afternoon, Your Grace. May I serve you some tea?”
“You’re a prince among men, Loftus.” Jasper struggled upright and motioned for Loftus to place the tray upon his lap. “A true gentleman’s gentleman.”
“That’s kind of you to say, Your Grace.” Loftus poured the tea, then began bustling about the room, preparing the shaving things and retrieving the clothing Jasper had left scattered about the room when he collapsed into his bed.
He was well into his third cup of tea before he recalled he’d left a king’s ransom worth of rubies in the pocket of his coat. “Take care with that coat, Loftus. I’ve left something in the pocket. Fetch it out for me before you take it away, if you please.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Loftus rifled obediently through the pockets, then looked up at Jasper with an anxious frown. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but the pockets appear to be empty.”
“Nonsense, man. Look in the front right pocket.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Jasper sipped his tea as Loftus searched again, then finally turned the pockets inside out. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace, but I can’t find anything.”
The earrings were there. They had to be. “Give it here, Loftus.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Loftus handed over the coat and stood by silently as Jasper poked into the pocket, but all he turned up were a few bits of lint. “What the devil’s happened to them?”
Oh, no. No! He couldn’t have been so careless, could he?
He shoved his hands into each pocket, nearly ripping apart the seams, panic gripping his throat as his fingers twisted in the silk lining. No smooth, hard stones, no dangling pearls, no carved gold settings. He delved into the tight corners, pinching and clawing, but it was no use.
The earrings were gone.
Dear God, how—how, in the name of all that was holy could he have lost them? It had taken hours for him to win them back from Selina, hours of sitting across from her at that bloody table with sweat trickling down the back of his neck, only to lose them again before the night ended?
What could have become of them? He stilled with his coat crushed between his hands as he retraced his steps from the night before.
Selina had laid down her cards—a ten, a five, and a four.
A decent hand, but not good enough to beat his.
She’d taken the loss with her usual grace. Livid color had flooded her cheeks, then all at once she’d swept her arm across the table, sending the cards and thousands of pounds in jewels scattering in every direction before storming to the dressing room door, flinging it open, and ordering him out of her sight, declaring she couldn’t bear to be in the same room with him for one second longer.
He hadn’t fancied another hairbrush to the forehead, so he’d done as she bid him, scooping up the ruby earrings and dropping them into his coat pocket, leaving the diamond and sapphire parure on the table. Then he’d made his way to his carriage, sucking in the first deep breath he’d drawn all night as he climbed inside and bid Knapp to take him to Basingstoke’s.
He’d still had the earrings when he reached Park Lane. He recalled patting his pocket just to make certain they were there before he climbed out of the carriage.
