Page 113 of Thief of the Ton
“Not you as well, Betty,” he said. “Your redeeming feature has always been that you know when to keep your mouth shut. I really think… Aah!” He let out a cry and threw his head back, opening his mouth wide as if fighting for breath.
“Breathe, your lordship,” Mrs. Bates said, massaging his hand. “Remember what I said? Deep, slow breaths—and count to ten. Here—let me help you upstairs.”
“But I have a guest.”
“Who Miss Lavinia can tend to, I’m sure.”
Papa glanced at Lavinia, then his shoulders slumped in defeat, and he let himself be led out of the room. As he passed Lady Betty, she placed a hand on his arm.
“Dickie—I’m so sorry if I said anything to distress you,” she said. “I never meant—”
“I know, Betty dear.” He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “You’ve nothing to reproach yourself for. It’s Walton—the bastard. It’salwaysbeen Walton.”
“Papa…” Lavinia rose to her feet, but he shook his head.
“I’ll be all right, daughter,” he said. “Mrs. Bates has become quite proficient in taking care of me while you’ve been in London, and I cannot rely on you forever. You enjoy the rest of your breakfast. Mrs. Bates wouldn’t want to see that jam going to waste. But I’d like you to come and see me before you take your ride.”
“Of course.” She watched her father shuffle out of the room on Mrs. Bates’s arm.
“Poor Dickie,” Lady Betty said. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have told him about Walton. I thought he’d want to know.”
“He’d have found out eventually,” Lavinia said, “and he’d have been more distressed if he knew you’d kept it from him. He dislikes secrets.”
“Some secrets are best kept hidden,” Lady Betty said. “Youshould know that.”
“What do you mean?” Lavinia asked.
Lady Betty spread jam on a slice of toast, then took a bite. “Mrs. Bates is right,” she said, pushing the plate of toast toward Lavinia. “This jam is exceptional. You must have some.”
She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Do you know why your father acted so strangely when I mentioned the clock?”
“I suspect he was upset on hearing Walton’s name,” Lavinia replied.
“No—there’s something more,” Lady Betty said. “I can see it in your eyes, Lavinia. I may no longer receive invitations to Society parties, but my acquaintance is extensive enough that I’m kept abreast of gossip, including the theft of a painting that was replaced by an empty frame at Lord Hythe’s country seat.”
“The painting in question was later discovered,” Lavinia said. “It hadn’t been stolen at all.”
“But I hear that adifferentpainting was stolen. Perhaps the empty frame was a decoy devised by the infamous Phoenix?” She finished her toast, then dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “Yes—this jam really is most delicious.”
She looked at Lavinia and smiled. “The Phoenix really is a most remarkable man.” She lifted her teacup. “Or perhaps the Phoenix is no man. After all, I’ve never known any man to be that clever.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re saying,” Lavinia said.
Lady Betty sipped her tea. “Tell me, Lavinia, darling—have you stolen the necklace yet, or does the fake I procured for you still reside in your bedchamber?”
Lavinia sighed. “There’s no point in my denying it, is there?”
“No,” Lady Betty said. “I take it the clock has a particular significance, otherwise Earl Walton wouldn’t have made such a fuss about wanting to retrieve it from his estate. By all accounts, he’s there now.”
“At Marlow Park?”
Lady Betty nodded. “And he’ll be leaving on the nineteenth of this month—at dusk, or so Lady Edgington tells me—and will be taking the clock with him.”
“That’s two days away.” Lavinia pushed her plate aside. “Why are you tellingme?”
“I think you know why. I’m not about to warn you off—I know enough of your tenacity to understand the futility of that.”
“You think I’m interested in the clock?”
