“I see.”
“I don’t believe it to be anything but a girlish crush, but I don’t wish anything to interfere with her betrothal to Lowell, especially not some tattered, degenerate duke.”
“Forgive me, my lord. But I don’t understand what this has to do with the theater?”
“The duke’s box is close to my own. Cerise is…spirited in nature. I don’t want there to be an incident. You will be in attendance to ensure it.”
Good lord. There wasn’t any telling what Cerise had related to Lady Hester.
“Of course, my lord.”
“Miss Cosgrove, I do have one question. Where would my daughter have come across Roxboro? You walk in the park with her. Follow her about at balls. I’m curious.”
Helen could lie, but she suspected Galway already knew Roxboro had been at the Stout ball, and more importantly, was cataloging Cerise’s brief disappearance from Helen’s care.
“I believe they were introduced at the Stout ball, my lord.” She schooled her features into confusion. “I assumed you had made the introduction.”
“I did not, Miss Cosgrove.”
She tilted her head as if trying to solve a difficult problem. “How strange. Could it have been Lord Lowell? I believe Lord Lowell mentioned their acquaintance, neighbors I believe. His estate is close to that of the duke’s.”
Galway peered at her intently, searching for some flaw in Helen’s explanation, and finding none, leaned back in his chair and nodded. “I’d forgotten how close Hatton Hill was to The Pillory.”
Helen gave a small shrug. “I don’t know the location of either, my lord,” she assured him careful to keep every word calm and obedient, but her foot tapped impatiently beneath her skirts.
Roxboro must be back in London.
Helen hadn’t seen him since the day at the modiste shop. Despite expecting him to, Roxboro hadn’t appeared to her again. But if he were in attendance at the theater, which given Galway’s concerns he would be, Helen could confront him.
“Nor should you know where the duke’s estate is located. Roxboro is someone this household doesn’t tend to associate with, duke or not,” Galway drawled, calculating gaze lingering over Helen. “I do appreciate your attention to your duties, Miss Cosgrove. I vow an excellent recommendation once Cerise is wed should you not wish to continue in my employment.”
Helen doubted it. “And the additional sum promised for shepherding Cerise the last three years without incident,” she added, unwilling to allow him to disregard what he’d promised and put in writing.
“Oh, yes. I’d nearly forgotten.” Galway’s fingers drummed along the arm of his chair. “We can discuss the matter further after the theater. Your current duties to my daughter take precedence.”
Helen kept her features perfectly polite. “Of course, my lord.” Contract or not, she sensed that Galway would find a way not to honor his commitment to her. That matter would have to be dealt with later, after confronting Roxboro.
“Splendid, Miss Cosgrove.” He waved her away. “You’re dismissed.”
Chapter Sixteen
Helen smoothed downthe fabric of her ancient indigo gown, satisfied that adding a bit of lace had softened the appearance of what was a matronly neckline nearly worn with age. Not that anyone at the theater would be looking in her direction. Very few noticed the lady’s companions and chaperones moving about. Stepping back and forth before the mirror, Helen eyed the hem of her gown for any sign of the tear she’d carefully mended. Barely noticeable. She’d done a fine job with her needle and thread.
Again, no one would be looking at her hem. Or at Helen at all.
She was to be seated in the back of Galway’s box, behind his guests, which was perfect for Helen’s purposes. And as the play commenced—she hadn’t any idea what the name of the play happened to be, nor did it matter—she would excuse herself to attend to personal matters and slip away. Galway inferred the duke’s box was close to his own. She would enter, confront the duke and threaten to expose him if he didn’t return the pendant. It was a decent plan.
Helen’s gloved fingers tightened with righteous indignation as she made her way down the stairs.
“Lord Galway and Lady Cerise await you in the carriage, Miss Cosgrove,” Park intoned as she passed. There was ahintof accusation in his pale eyes as they followed her out the door, probably reconsidering his promise to stay silent about thependant. But she couldn’t be bothered by Galway’s lapdog at the moment. Helen needed to focus all her attention on the matter at hand.
Confronting the Duke of Roxboro, accusing him of his crime and demanding, albeit discreetly, the return of the emerald pendant could go wrong quickly were she not careful. His box was bound to be filled with guestsandhis new duchess. She would threaten instant exposure if he didn’t return the pendant promptly.
He need not even confess, though Roxboro should at least apologize for the chaos he’d created with his little trick. That would be the honorable thing to do.
Once Roxboro relented, Helen would receive the pendant and slip it into the potted palm at the top of the landing, mere steps from Cerise’s rooms. She’d insist Kate search once more. The pendant would be found.
Helen had spent endless nights not sleeping and thinking of Roxboro. His manipulation of her at the Stout ball and in the park. Distracting her. Whispering to Helen that she reminded him of drippings of all things. He’d only wanted to know about the pendant.
