Did she dare?
She needed time tothink, but there was no time. Montford was waiting. Either she confessed to having taken the earrings, or she kept quiet, and seized the opportunity that had slid from his pocket directly into her waiting hands.
It was a mad scheme, foolhardy, risky in the extreme, but how could she live with herself if she didn’t even attempt it? She’d never let a bit of risk stand in her way before, and this time, her very freedom was hanging in the balance.
Her father was a proud man—too proud, at times. He wouldn’t permit any of their friends to help them out of their difficulties. In his view, an honorable gentleman saw to his own debts, and he’d sooner die than accept so much as a penny from any of them.
But if Montford chose to forgive the remainder of the debt, well . . . there was nothing her father could do about that, was there? He couldn’tforcethe duke to take his money.
By the strangest twist of fate imaginable, the Duke of Montford was both the cause of all their troubles, and the only one who could help her out of them.
The earrings could well prove their salvation. A bit of clever, er . . .negotiatingon her part could erase her father’s debt, and free her from a marriage to Lord Stoneleigh in one master stroke.
But it was no small thing, to trifle with a duke. Not just any duke, either, but one of the Duke of Basingstoke’s dearest friends. The Duke of Basingstoke, who just happened to be married toherdearest friend. Mightn’t Franny take it amiss, if she stole a pair of earrings from her beloved husband’s friend?
No, notstole. She was no thief.
It wasn’t as if she was going tokeepthem. She only meant to borrow them for a bit longer while she considered what was best to do with them. Surely, that couldn’t be considered theft. It wasn’t as if she’d plucked them out of Montford’s pocket herself. The earrings had fallen right into her hands, for pity’s sake.
That wasn’t stealing. It was divine providence.
It was a delicate business, to be sure, but it couldn’t be an accident that she suddenly found herself in possession of such unusual jewelry. Surely, the earrings were nothing less than a gift from Fate herself?
Who wasshe, to refuse such a gift?
Really, she’d be doing Montford a favor. It would teach him to take better care of such incendiary trinkets in the future.
“You’re thinking very hard, Miss Thorne. I didn’t ask you to unravel the mystery of the Sphinx. It’s a simple question.” He leaned forward, abandoning his sprawl, his gaze so intent on her it was as if he could see every secret hidden in her head, every beat of her pounding heart. “Did you, or did you not see the earrings?”
“I—I did not, Your Grace.” Until the words actually left her lips, she hadn’t been sure what she was going to say.
He gazed at her for a long time, neither of them moving or speaking, the moment stretching thin between them until at last he broke it, his voice its usual deep drawl, but the hint of amusement was gone, and the smirk had dropped from his lips. “Are you certain of that, Miss Thorne?”
She wasn’t certain of anything anymore, but the thing was done, and it was too late to turn back now. “Yes, Your Grace, quite certain.”
He didn’t believe her. She knew it at once from the slight narrowing of his eyes, the tight press of his lips, and really, why would he? She was a dreadful liar. Perhaps she should have consideredthatbefore she attempted to deceive one of the most powerful dukes in England.
He rose from his chair, his long, lean body seeming to take days to unfold, until he towered over her, casting an enormous, menacing shadow against the wall behind him. She half expected him to seize her and shake her until his rubies fell from her pockets, but he only stared at her.
And stared, and stared, for so long she wished the chair would swallow her up.
Finally, he offered her a sweeping bow. “Very well, Miss Thorne. If you do happen to come across them, you will let me know, won’t you? They’re quite valuable.”
She gulped. “Yes, of course, Your Grace.”
He didn’t say another word, only made his way to the library door, but before he went out, he turned and cast her a look that made a shiver dart down her spine. “Iwillhave those earrings back, Miss Thorne. One way, or another.”
Then he was gone, leaving her alone in the deepening gloom and wondering, now that it was too late, if lying to the Duke of Montford was the biggest mistake of her life.
CHAPTER6
“Your Grace? I do beg your pardon, Your Grace.” A tentative finger tapped Jasper’s shoulder. “You have a visitor downstairs in the drawing room.”
“Mrrumph.” Jasper rolled to the other side of the bed, away from Loftus’s bothersome poking. “What time is it?”
“It’s seven o’clock, Your Grace.”
Jasper peeled one eye open. “In themorning?”
