Page 13 of The Duke's Stolen Heart
Havencrest,
Forgive my silence. I have fallen ill with the ague which recently plagued Lady Margaret. My health has necessitated confinement to my bed, which you ought to know considering you have had four men posted to watch the Evendaw’s house night and day ever since our midnight misadventure. (Don’t you dare take that the wrong way.)
Heart’s Cry is worth four or five times your proposed fee. Twenty thousand in gold, half deposited into escrow before I so much as glance in Lady Summervale’s direction, and you absorb all expenses. They will be substantial.
If you agree to my terms, meet me on Saturday in Kensington Gardens.
-A
P.S.: If you continue to write me with such frequency I will lose my happy perch with the Evendaws. Do be more discreet.
* * *
Miss Lowry,
I wish you a rapid recovery. Twenty thousand pounds is usury. I shall deposit five thousand pounds into an account to cover your “expenses.” I presume you mean gowns and the fripperies commonly expected of ladies who move in Lady Summervale’s circle.
If you should manage to secure the top half of the Heart’s Cry, and return both halves to me, I shall deposit an additional five thousand pounds into the account. It is my final offer.
Havencrest
* * *
“Areyou certain you feel well enough to go out this evening?” asked Margaret solicitously as her maid twisted Antonia’s dark locks into curls and pinned them, not gently, to the crown of her head. Paste pearls gleamed among her tresses.
“I wouldn’t have gone to the effort of obtaining a new gown if I meant to rusticate in your guest bedroom for the rest of winter.” Antonia shivered as a brisk winter wind rattled the window. “Though I confess the idea holds some appeal.”
Antonia would not have gone to the effort of dragging herself out of bed with a wicked cough, had the issue of her favorite pink gown being found in the river not been a constant shadow behind her. One more shadow among the many that dogged her. Antonia’s determination never to let the ghosts of her past catch up with her had led her to feign decent health long enough to visit Margaret’s dressmaker and order a reasonable replica of her sadly ruined pink dress and this one, in plain ivory silk. The only adornment was a bit of lace at the back and over the bust.
No matter how many bracelets and ear bobs one stole, there never seemed to be enough money. Gold and silver sold for scrap brought coin enough to keep her in gloves and hats, but it was never enough coin to purchase her a permanent place in this world. Jewels, once she amassed enough of them, would.
“You ought to stay home if you don’t feel well enough.” Margaret countered. “A trip to the theater is never necessary.”
“I had heard there is the possibility of an appearance by Maria Theresa Kemble,” Antonia commented idly as she dabbed pale pink cream on her cheeks and lips. “Not to be missed.”
“Who says that?” asked Margaret as she settled into place before the mirror. “She hasn’t made an appearance in years. Besides, you haven’t left the house in days and the new season only just opened.”
“I read it in the newspaper while you were out,” Antonia said hastily.
“Are you sure it hasn’t anything to do with these mysterious daily notes?” Margaret asked. “My brother’s wife is most concerned for my reputation. She thinks you have found a beau.”
Antonia snorted. “Me? A gauche foreigner?”
Liar.
“You’re so beautiful, Toni. The very opposite of me,” Margaret sighed.
“Nonsense. The world is big enough to accommodate beauty in all forms. Variety is the spice of life and all that.”
Margaret nodded gravely. “Cowper.”
Antonia filed this information away for future reference. “Things rarely end well for the women in Shakespeare’s stories, do they?”
The only reason Antonia liked theatres was that they proved easy hunting grounds for jewels. The ladies’ retiring room between acts was a reliable place to bump into a woman and relieve her of a bracelet or tug a diamond drop free from her ear lobe. It didn’t matter if she didn’t get the mate, since Antonia pried the jewels out and sold the setting in a twisted ball of wire to be melted down. Bracelets were easiest. Necklaces were hit-or-miss, as were hair ornaments. Pull too hard, and she risked alerting the owner with an accidentally plucked hair. Rings, Antonia rarely attempted, unless they were loose and worn over a lady’s glove.
“Havencrest sent no letter today,” Margaret said idly.
Excitement skittered up the back of her neck like an electric current.
