Page 147 of Thief of the Ton
“And a ball,” Papa said. “I was a devil on the dance floor in my heyday, if you recall.”
“Yes, I do,” Lady Betty said. “The debutantes were so desperate to see your name on their dance cards. But there was only one who claimed the privilege of having your name on her cardtwice. From that moment, I knew the honorable Lily Bonneville ranked above all the other young ladies in quality, temperament, and character.”
She approached the fireplace and rang the bell. Shortly after, two footmen trooped into the chamber carrying a number of items, which Lady Betty dotted about the room in positions that Papa could admire from his vantage point. Lavinia let out a low cry as she recognized them—a small snowscape in a delicate gilt frame, a thick steel sword with an ornate hilt, a necklace adorned with rubies and emeralds, a small ginger jar…
And, finally, a clock. The clock for which he would most likely hang.
But today was not a day for bitter truths. It was a day for dreams, and both Lady Betty and Papa were relying on her to play her part.
“On the table, please, William,” Lady Betty said crisply. The footman placed the clock where she directed. “I’m afraid it’s not working,” she said. “But I have a dear friend who’s a clockmaker, who, I’m sure, will repair it for me as a favor.”
A twinkle shone in Papa’s expression. “I forget how manydear friendsyou have, Betty.”
She wagged her finger at him. “Now, now, Dickie,” she chided. “I can have as many friends as I want. A well-behaved gentleman must learn to share, if he is to get his reward.”
Papa let out a chuckle. “I doubt I’d survive one ofyourrewards, Betty. You’d be the death of me…”
Betty let out a gasp. The façade slipped and Papa’s voice trailed away.
Any moment, perhaps even today, the authorities were to come for Papa and detain him to await trial. The only reason he hadn’t been detained sooner was because the magistrate had advocated for compassion on grounds of Papa’s health, arguing that an attempt to flee would bring about his demise quicker than any trial.
Betty’s smile resumed, and she patted Papa’s cheek. “Dear Dickie—you do amuse! And now, I must see about the menu for supper. I had my housekeeper order a side of beef—I know it’s your favorite.”
Hoofbeats echoed outside, and shortly after they heard a knock on the front door. Lavinia’s stomach somersaulted, and she caught Papa’s hand.
Betty glided to the door, maintaining her composure, through her voice held a note of tremor.
“Good heavens!” she cried. “Who can it be at this hour? It’s most unsociable, when I could still be having breakfast. Have no fear, Dickie—I’ll tell them that you’re resting, and are in no state to entertain.”
She swept out of the chamber.
“Papa…” Lavinia began, but her father shook his head.
“No, darling girl,” he said. “If my time has come, then I’ll accept it with dignity.”
His stoicism in the face of what he was about to endure was too much, and she let out a sob. A thin, bony hand caught hers.
“Hush, daughter,” he whispered. “I’m ready. Let this be my parting gift to you. Aren’t parents supposed to give life to their children? To give them wings so they may fly unfettered and free? And think…” He gave a soft smile. “I’ll be reunited with your dear mother. She would want this for you—as do I.”
“Oh, Papa!” Tears blurred her vision, and she surrendered to her grief.
Then she startled as footsteps approached—Lady Betty’s light footsteps, accompanied by a heavier, more determined tread. The magistrate had come to claim her father for the crimes that she had committed.
The door opened, and a man stepped inside.
But it wasn’t Stiles.
It was Peregrine.
“How dare you!” she cried, rising to her feet. “You betrayed me, and now my father’s life is forfeit! How could you do that to us? Were you so unsatisfied with how your father ruined us the first time that you plotted to finish the deed yourself?”
“Daughter!” Papa said.
Paying no heed, she strode toward Peregrine and pummeled his chest with her fists.
“You bastard!”
He made no attempt to defend himself.
