Page 27 of The Duke's Stolen Heart
Chapter 9
“You need dancing lessons.”
Antonia examined the chandelier as though she had never seen a more compelling confection of glass, wire, and candlesticks. A few had winked out. It must be a terrible pain to keep them lit and the wicks properly trimmed. The fiddle and the cello frayed her last nerve ever thinner until, with merciful abruptness, the players laid down their instruments for a break.
“I could provide you with instruction,” he added after a long silence. Beside him, Margaret chatted with her brother and sister-in-law, filling the gap with an incessant stream of words.
Stop talking,Antonia mentally commanded. Margaret talked when she was nervous, and Havencrest’s presence had the poor girl jumping out of her skin. It had been all right when they had been alone in the Evendaw’s parlor, plotting imaginary crimes. But now, out in public, his looming physical presence brooding over Margaret’s petite form had turned into the too-real possibility of a marriage which Margaret did not want.
She owed a debt to Margaret. Many debts, in fact—not that Antonia intended to repay them.
Antonia glimpsed a woman’s gold necklace within easy reach. All it would take to clip the light bauble free was an unobtrusive snip. When the woman moved, the chain would snake into her grasp. Simple. Almost as easy as bumping a lady on the shoulder and simultaneously sliding a bangle down her wrist. Distract and—
“I can guess what you’re thinking, Antonia.”
This time, she inclined her chin and glared sidelong at the duke. His brows puckered in a disapproving frown. “Is that so?”
“You think you can make off that woman’s bracelet as easily as a sliding a—” Havencrest broke off. His jaw worked. Antonia’s mind supplied the words he could not possibly have been thinking.Hard cock into a welcoming pussy.Her low belly clenched with need as inappropriate images of his erect body moving within hers blotted out the world. Antonia gasped and broke their gaze.
“I could, if I wanted to,” she said lazily.I could have you.You’d hate me for it, but I could do it.Antonia forced herself to breathe. Her vision cleared. A different woman’s white-gloved wrist dangled loosely right before them.
“Do it,” he demanded harshly. They were back to mumbling at one another out of the corners of their mouths while pretending they weren’t speaking.
“Are you saying I can’t remove that bracelet without her notice?” Antonia asked in a low hiss.
“Prove you can. I watched you do it once, purely by accident, at the opera. I have never seen you do so since. Maybe you aren’t up to the task.”
“Child’s play,” Antonia retorted. She angled her body sideways, then shifted nearer. A light grasp, a faked stumble, and a murmured apology. She edged back to the duke and dropped her left hand to her side, concealing the bracelet in her palm. His arm fell straight beside his body until the backs of their hands brushed. An electric frisson skated up her arm. He was warm and solid, and when his fingers traced the back of her knuckles, Havencrest’s touch was almost gentle. His gloved index finger twined with hers. Antonia’s knees went jelly soft. They threatened to drop her to the ground.
He traced the rim of the bracelet and quirked up one eyebrow. Havencrest cut her a sidelong glance. Antonia mimicked him. A faint smile played at the corners of his mouth. It was tempting to see if she could coax it into full bloom. Instead, she gathered her wits and sauntered off to the ladies’ retiring room where she casually deposited the stolen bracelet beneath a mirror. Someone would find it; perhaps it would make its way back to its owner. When she returned, the Evendaws had drawn Havencrest and Margaret into conversation. It wasn’t until they were collecting their cloaks from the footmen that he murmured, “Nicely done. It won’t work on my grandmother, though.”
Antonia shrugged as if the compliment hadn’t sent a spray of fireworks through her midsection. “Why not?”
“She never wears the Heart’s Cry.”
“Then what was that exercise all about?” Antonia demanded. The volume of her voice rose.
“To see you commit a crime.” Havencrest’s blue eyes flashed with humor. “Now, I can testify how I personally witnessed you relieve that young woman of her personal effects.”
Antonia gasped in outrage, her mouth flopping open like a landed fish, but there was no chance for her to respond before Margaret and the Evendaws interrupted to take them home.
Havencrest bade a stiff goodbye to the Evendaws. The damnable man touched the brim of his hat and grinned. Antonia narrowed her eyes at him in return. But seeing that grin had almost been worth risking her neck. It sent butterflies skittering through her stomach—an appallingly uncomfortable sensation, Antonia decided grumpily.
“Is your hand all right?” asked Margaret innocently.
“Yes, why?” Oh. She had been tracing the place where Havencrest had touched her gloved index finger while showing him the proof of her pilfering skills. “Cold, that’s all.”
“We shall be home soon.” The earl had fallen asleep in his quadrant of the carriage. Lady Evendaw nudged him away from her shoulder. Her husband snorted and blearily sat up.
As they trooped into the house, the under-butler brought a neat square of ivory paper posed atop a silver tray. “This arrived not a quarter hour ago.”
“What’s this?” asked Evendaw. The clock on the square chimed a single muffled bong. One in the morning. No good news ever arrived by darkness, Antonia’s mother always said.
“For Miss Lowry.”
Evendaw scrutinized the writing, and then her, so closely that Antonia feared he might open it and begin reading her post. Panic swept away any lingering cobwebs of yearning for Havencrest’s touch.
What she read erased any sense of yearning for him. The words scrawled in black-and-white curdled her lust into hatred with a few looping scribbles.
