Page 22 of The Stolen Sparkler
“Eleanor’s entire future is on the line, Lord Needham. The mere threat of such a rumor would be enough to silence Lavinia, especially when confronted with her own misdeed. Talk to Eleanor. Once you explain what she must do, I believe she will gladly go along with the plan.”
Needham threaded a hand through his hair. “How are we to get everything accomplished? The ball is tonight. Without the necklace, Burkett will call off his son’s engagement."
“You’re correct. We don’t have a moment to waste,” Lady Rosalynd said. “After you talk to Eleanor, ask Burkett for a moment of his time. Tell him you wish to discuss Eleanor’s dowry.”
“He doesn’t think it’s enough.”
“Doesn’t matter. Once he arrives, let us know. We’ll be in the orangery.”
“I suppose that’s as good a place as any,” I said.
Before we left, Needham said, “Retrieve the necklace, Steele, Lady Rosalynd. Give my daughter her future."
“We will do our best,” Rosalynd said.
As we emerged from the study, I offered my arm to Rosalynd. She hesitated, her gaze holding mine as if seeking reassurance. After I gave her a subtle nod, she slipped her hand into the crook of my elbow.
“Do people ever visit orangeries?” I asked on our way there.
“We do the one at home. It’s one of my favorite places to visit during the long winter months. I love the scent, you see.”
The orangery turned out to be a wonder. The citrus fruits imbued the space with a pungent but pleasant aroma.
“It is quite aromatic,” I murmured, breathing in the heady smell. “So what can these be used for, other than eating of course?”
“Well, lemon oil can be distilled from lemons which makes for a powerful wood shine. Extracts of orange peels are added to perfumes, and limes add flavor to food.”
I wasn’t surprised by her knowledge, but I was curious about how she’d learned it. “How do you know all this?”
“My brother grows all manners of plants and fruits, mostly to advance the science of botany. He’s even an acknowledged expert on poisonous ones.”
I stared at her. “Whyever would he study poisons?”
“He finds them fascinating. Scotland Yard regularly consults with him. All manners of poison are used to murder people. When the police suspect one was employed, they turn to him.”
Unable to discuss the investigation for fear of being overheard, we spent the remainder of the time in desultory conversation. Close to an hour later, we received word that the coast was clear.
Together we ascended the grand staircase in silence, the soft rustle of her skirts brushing against my side. When we reached the second floor landing, I leaned toward her. "Have you done this sort of thing before, Lady Rosalynd?"
"Breaking and entering? Not precisely. But I’m not unfamiliar with thinking on my feet."
"Good," I murmured, casting a glance down the hallway. "Burkett isn’t a man to trifle with. If things go awry, we’ll need all the wit and charm you can muster."
"And you, Your Grace? What will you bring to the table?" she asked.
"Let’s just say I’m adept at vanishing when the need arises."
Reaching Burkett’s door, I tested the handle—locked, as expected. From my pocket, I withdrew a set of tools, the metallic clink breaking the stillness.
"Impressive," Rosalynd whispered, her voice laced with curiosity.
The lock yielded to my hand in seconds. Pushing the door open, I gestured for her to enter ahead of me.
Lord Burkett’s air carried the faint scent of cigar smoke, mingling with the bitterness of old paper and brandy. I moved methodically through the space, my movements precise and practiced, while Rosalynd stood by the fireplace, nervously watching the door.
"Anything yet?" she whispered, her voice barely carrying over the faint rustle of papers.
"No," I muttered, my tone tight. “He wouldn’t leave the necklace lying about in plain sight."
