“You won’t,” Helen assured her once more. “I promise. When was the last time you recall seeing the pendant?”
“The night—” Kate hiccupped. “My lady attended Lady Stout’s ball. I’m not sure where it could have gone. I readied her for bed. Put away her things.” She shook her head. “So I must have put the pendant away, same as I always do.”
“And Lady Cerise hasn’t worn the pendant since?”
“I don’t think so, Miss Cosgrove. I would recall her asking for it sooner.”
Cerise was careless with her things, hats, gloves, jewels, no matter how expensive. She often tossed off necklaces, bracelets, and the like without a care, leaving Kate to find them days later. Or kick aside her gowns into heaps of silk. Cerise once discarded a pair of ornately embroidered slippers, which cost a small fortune, because a speck of dirt was at the toe, one that took Helen only a few moments to brush off. In all likelihood, Cerise just took off the pendant herself, dropping it somewhere in her rooms.
“Lady Cerise will be with Lady Hester for some time. Gossiping and speaking poorly of others,” Helen said.
Kate gasped, eyes wide. “Miss Cosgrove.”
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it? She probably kicked the pendant under the bed or the rug, and Lady Hester’s appearance gives us plenty of time to find it. Wipe your tears. Don’t let Parker see your distress. Let’s begin our search.”
Then a weak smile broke across the maid’s freckled cheeks. “Thank you, Miss Cosgrove.”
Chapter Fourteen
The blasted emeraldpendantwasmissing.
Helen and Kate had searched every one of Cerise’s gowns, every square inch of the thick rug, underneath the bed and each slipper or half-boot the brat owned. Helen even felt along the drawers of the vanity, hoping the pendant had slipped into a space between the drawers.
Nothing.
Kate kept blotting her eyes during the search while letting out tiny, mournful sounds, neither of which helped matters. As Cerise’s maid, the girl would be considered the most likely suspect, if Cerise remembered the pendant long enough to accuse her. Galway’s daughter, in addition to being vain, arrogant and a snob, had the attention span of a squirrel. By time Lady Hester departed, she’d forgotten all about the emerald pendant, only commanding Kate to copy Lady Hester’s hairstyle.
Which gave Helen some time to fix matters, if she could.
She went down to the kitchens for a cup of tea and a biscuit, because she thought better with both beside her. Cook chattered away about Galway’s neighbor, Lady Emerson, who had a strange habit of making wax masques of people, terrifying her staff.
“Cerise probably dropped the pendant in the carriage. Or at the ball,” Helen muttered into her tea. “Which means I’ll need to search both, though if Lady Stout found the pendant, she wouldhave already sent word.” Cook, bless her, was too busy spouting theories on why Lady Emerson would have such an odd hobby as making wax masks of people’s faces. What sort of countess does such a thing? She wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to Helen’s muttering.
Chewing her bottom lip, Helen pondered the situation.
Obviously, Kate hadn’t taken the necklace, nor any other member of the staff, especially after what Galway did to Tam. The poor lad had been dismissed and nearly given over to the constables.
The last time Helen could clearly recall seeing the pendant had been the night of the Stout ball. She closed her eyes and traced Cerise’s steps at Lady Stout’s seeing the pendant when Lord Galway and Lady Cerise were announced. The emerald had dangled from her throat when Cerise twirled about the ballroom with four different partners, Helen recalled how the pendant had caught the light of the chandeliers. The emerald sparkled when Cerise arched her back, fingers trailing over Roxboro in the alcove.
Helen picked up a biscuit, chewing thoughtfully.
After the incident with Roxboro, Helen’s return to the ballroom and Galway’s subsequent interrogation, Cerise had danced only once more before Galway insisted they return home. She’d been annoyed with her father at leaving early and the two had argued on the carriage ride home while Helen stayed still and silent to avoid being drawn into their discussion. The interior of the carriage had been dark. The pendant must have been around Cerise’s neck but…Helen couldn’t remember if it had been….
No.
Helen thought back to seeing Roxboro for the first time, ignored the flutter across her chest at thinking of him and concentrated on his actions at the Stout ball. The duke hadleaned over Cerise at one point, deliberately blocking her from Helen’s view. At the time, she’d thought Roxboro was attempting to steal a kiss, but the duke had claimed to Helen, several times, he took no liberties with Galway’s daughter. He could be lying, of course, but there wasn’t any reason for him to.
Her heart thudded dully in her chest. She could recall seeing the pendant before Roxboro, but notafter.
Surely not.
The very idea was absurd. What reason would there be for a duke,especiallythe Duke of Roxboro, to steal a necklace off a young lady’s neck? Roxboro was notable not only for his decadent lifestyle and questionable behavior, but also his enormouswealth. He’d have no reason to take the pendant from Cerise, unless he did so only because he could.
Roxboro was jaded. Cynical.Spoiled. Bored noblemen often made outlandish wagers to amuse themselves, not caring who was harmed in the process. It was entirely possible Roxboro had entered into such a wager for his own amusement and taken the pendant.
Inconceivable.
Roxboro was many things, but he was a duke.
