Page 16 of The Duke's Stolen Heart
“She was. If you listen, you’ll understand why.” He inhaled deeply. Ordinarily, Malcolm avoided thinking about the jewels’ macabre history. He hated to think that a gift given from love had contributed in any way to his parents’ unhappiness. “The couple were buried, each with one half. But rumors of the great diamonds led thieves to disturb their rest and steal the gems. The rubies were cut, polished, and sold. Yet before they could enjoy the proceeds, the thieves died in strange and violent ways. Lore has it that whomever owns the jewels will die until true love breaks the curse.”
“I take it, your mother believed she had broken the curse?” Miss Lowry held out the miniature.
“She and my father, yes.” He tucked it back into his pocket. “That is, until my mother wandered out into a field in a laudanum-induced haze and froze to death.”
“Oh.” Miss Lowry’s eyes widened in the darkness. “I hardly expected that ending.” There was a beat of silence. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “It is hard to lose a mother.” An undertone in her voice suggested an intimate familiarity with this specific sort of heartache. “The miniature is badly damaged.”
“It is.” Havencrest’s throat tightened. “The last time I saw her, my mother was wearing the Heart’s Cry parure. You can hardly tell from the picture anymore, but the top half is cut in the shape of a heart and the detachable bottom half holds the teardrop-shaped ruby. You already have the lower half, the teardrop. I saw you take it from the bosom of Mrs. Conley, who was my father’s lover at the time of my mother’s death. I had been planning to approach her about selling it before you absconded with the gem.”
“Does this mean I am destined to die horribly, if I were to help you?” Miss Lowry asked archly. “Because if so, you may as well call the magistrate. I wasn’t exactly headed for a peaceful death. I also doubt you and I are the ones to break the Heart’s Cry curse.”
Havencrest threw back his head and laughed. A grin pulled at Miss Lowry’s sensuous mouth until she caved and revealed even white teeth. His laughter faded until he became gradually aware of the scant space between their knees. A familiar, unwelcome tension tightened his midsection. Fluttery shadows of emotion he refused to acknowledge stirred within, ghosts of memories he did not like to think about.
The silence turned heavy before Miss Lowry broke it with a taunt.
“So, little boy Havencrest—do you have any other name, or am I being a rude American to ask?—lost his dear mama and now he is desperate to have her favorite necklace.” Havencrest had never been so relieved to be savagely mocked. It put them back on even keel, where a moment ago he had felt as if they were about to topple sideways into the cold sludge of the Thames. That was not an experience he wished to contemplate.
“My given name is Malcom. Hepworth Dunn.”
“Malcolm Hepworth Dunn, Duke of Havencrest,” Miss Lowry repeated as if testing the syllables on her tongue. A shiver touched the back of his neck. They must return to the opera soon, before the last act. Going off in a carriage had, in hindsight, been a stupid risk to take. “I admit I expected an altogether less ordinary given name. You look more like an Azrael, or Lucien.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, sir, that you have the countenance of a brooding man who wants to bend the world to his will and might break it if he doesn’t get his wish. You look like an avenging angel.”
Havencrest grunted. “Does this mean you’ll tell me your true name? We both know Antonia Lowry is a fiction.”
“Antonia Lowry is not a fiction. She is a woman who passed away in her sleep twelve years ago in Boston, at the age of ninety-three, surrounded by her seventeen cats. I highly doubt she has any objection to my use of her name.” Miss Lowry the imposter flicked a stray bit of lace back into place on her sleeve. “Now that we have had a” —she glanced around the luxurious coach— “most improper introduction to follow our even less proper initial meeting, I must ask you to return me to the theatre. It will not help you if I am thrown out of the Evendaw’s home. They are touchy about their reputations. I am touchy about my freedom. It is not a relationship destined to last.”
Havencrest gave his driver the new direction. “You are the master thief, Miss Lowry. I leave it to you to devise a strategy.” On impulse, he leaned forward and caught her chin in his palm. Miss Lowry froze at the unexpected contact but did not pull away. Defiant brown eyes met his. “I expect you to communicate with me about every plan. Do not disappear on me again. I will find you.”
She jerked her head away.
“I accept your offer of twenty thousand pounds,” she said. “Though it is less than I deserve.”
“It is twenty thousand pounds more than any thief ‘deserves’” Havencrest pointed out. Had there ever been such a stubborn woman in history?
“I’ll start when I see the five thousand you promised me deposited into an anonymous bank account, It will be under a false name.”
“Done.”
Miss Lowry appeared momentarily startled by his agreement. “Who is the current owner of the Heart’s Cry?”
“You have half of it in your possession. I’ll want that back, as well. Consider this ten thousand for your services, and ten thousand for the necklace. It is more than you can expect by selling it to an intermediary.” As he was not connected to shadowy underworld thieves, Havencrest did not know this for a fact. He was throwing a spear blindly and hoping to hit a target.
“The Dowager Duchess of Summervale.”
Antonia Lowry stared at him. “It couldn’t be one of your cast-off courtesans, or another of your father’s mistress, could it?”
“Alas,” Malcolm shrugged. “My mother gave the earrings to one friend and the bracelet to another. She gave the two halves of the necklace away, one to her mother, the other to my father’s mistress. It was meant as a gesture of forgiveness, I think.” A lump formed in his throat. His gentle mother had not been easily angered. More often she was moved to tears. The memory of his child’s hands clicking the halves together, then taking them apart, echoed in his mind. “My father insisted it was revenge. However, I have since come to learn that the previous Duke of Havencrest’s opinions about the fairer sex were not always correct. In fact, many had proven to be altogether suspect. It had taken his own personal disaster to understand this.
“The woman I took the lower half from wore so many layers of necklaces that it was a simple matter to clip one link. I followed her into her box and yanked it free when she rose to applaud the actors. Simple, really. But upon closer examination I decided it was too fine to sell.”
“The diamond, you mean?” asked Havencrest absently. That was the obvious response, yet Miss Lowry surprised him.
“No, the goldwork. I had seen a similar piece once…” She trailed off. “I see many jewels, of course.
“How did you know it wasn’t paste?”
