Page 37 of The Rebellious Lady and the Phantom Lord
She could not have said how the idea first popped into her head.
If she had been thinking more clearly, she would have dismissed the thought at once as insanity. The mere notion of attempting such a thing left her in a cold sweat. No, she couldn’t. What if it went awry? What if Armande caught her?
Yet even though she was nearly choked by her fears, she was already clearing the way to set the plan into motion. When her maid reappeared at last, she found an excuse to send the girl away again. “You may wait in the carriage, Lucy. You can see I have the marquis with me now. I am sure I can depend upon himto escort me upon one more errand. Just tell Ridley to bring the carriage around by the goldsmith’s shop.”
She hoped her voice sounded flirtatious, like Muriel Porterfield’s, instead of shrill with panic. But it scarce mattered. Armande seemed to have withdrawn into himself, too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice her nervousness. He made no protest about escorting her to the goldsmith’s, holding the door open for her with a kind of stiff gallantry. How could she possibly be scheming to do such a thing to him? No, she adjured herself, steeling her shoulders. After what he had done to her last night, the threat he posed to herself and Gilly, he deserved it. That is, if it worked.
Phaedra started when the low-voiced proprietor approached her. A solemn, businesslike man with a balding forehead, he appeared accustomed to the vagaries of female clientele. He made no demur when Phaedra had him drag out almost every item in the shop for her inspection, every necklet, ring, chain and watch. She pretended to examine them all, while trying to summon her courage. It had been many years since she had played at sleight of hand games with Gilly. She had no way of knowing if she still possessed the skill-at least not until she tried.
Swallowing hard, she dropped her purse. While the goldsmith bent to retrieve it, Phaedra palmed one of the gold seal rings. That of course was the easy part. She skirted over to where Armande stared moodily at a delicate lady’s watch and chain. Phaedra brushed up against him. In one swift movement, she slipped the seal ring into his waistcoat pocket.
He glanced down at her, his eyes widening in surprise. Phaedra’s stomach lurched with fear. Had he felt her planting the ring?
“Oh dear,” she faltered. “I think I’ve lost my ...”
She nearly said purse, realizing in time she was still clutching it. “My handkerchief. It was one my mother embroidered for me.I must have dropped it back at the bookseller’s. I don’t know how I could have been so careless. I cannot bear the thought of having lost it.”
The story was absurd. She was certain Armande would see through it at once. But the genuine anguish in her voice must have made it sound quite convincing. She actually felt tears start to her eyes.
Armande’s expression softened. He lightly touched her cheek. “There is no need to so distress yourself,ma chere. I will go back at once and look for it.”
Phaedra lowered her eyes, no longer able to bear to look at him. “Would you?” she quavered. “I’d be most grateful.”
As Armande left the shop. Phaedra fought down an urge to call him back. Even now she could put a halt to this.
And do what? Sit back and wait until Armande found another way to destroy her? Taking no time to reconsider, Phaedra hurried toward the goldsmith.
“Oh, sir. That man who left your shop just now?—”
“My lady’s husband?” the goldsmith asked.
“Heaven forfend. I never saw him before in my life. I think he was following me.”
The goldsmith’s forehead furrowed with indignation. “The rogue. There are plenty of that sort about to accost innocent women. In future, might I suggest your maid accompany you?”
“You don’t understand, sir.” Phaedra wrung her hands. This must not take too long. She had to be out of here before Armande returned. “His advances to me were all a ploy. He but used that for an opportunity to steal. I saw him slip a ring into his pocket. I was so frightened, I could not speak to warn you.”
The goldsmith frowned. “Are you certain, milady? The gentleman was most well-dressed for a thief.”
At Phaedra’s insistence, the man examined his merchandise. She went through agonies of fear while he did so. It seemed to take him forever to notice the large seal ring was missing.
The goldsmith shook his head. “Aren’t these rascals getting bolder all the time? Such elegant raiment, too. Only fancy!”
“While you are fancying, the man is making good his escape.” Realizing her voice sounded too sharp, Phaedra quickly resumed her fluttery tone. “I mean, you must get the constable after him. He’s only gone a small way up the street.”
“Well, if milady would be so good as to bear witness?—”
“No, I could not bear to set eyes upon the villain again.”
Phaedra struck her hand to her brow. “You will have all the evidence you need, I assure you, in his right front pocket. I must get to my carriage before I faint.”
That was not far from true, Phaedra thought as she stumbled from the shop. Her knees felt so weak she was relieved to find Peter waiting to hand her into the coach. She all but collapsed inside, wrenching the door closed herself. She wanted to order Ridley to drive back to the Heath at once, but she had to have some idea if her plot had succeeded.
She instructed Peter in breathless accents. “Tell Ridley to drive around the next square and then come back up Oxford Street.”
Peter looked astonished but said, “Very good, my lady.”
Ridley would think she had taken complete leave of her senses, but Phaedra did not care. She leaned back against the squabs and closed her eyes, tensed and waiting. She had some notion of how pale she must have looked, for her maid tried to administer the vinaigrette.
