Page 53 of Thief of the Ton
She reached into her reticule and pulled out a piece of paper bearing a single image—the outline of a bird rising from the flames. Then she removed her necklace and held it beside the genuine article that it had been imitating all night.
Side by side, the differences were more apparent. The clasp on the original was more ornate, with a filigree design that matched the metalwork linking the gems. As for the gems themselves…
Eleanor had been right. The genuine emerald outshone the fake as the sun outshone a dying candle. Eleanor always said that there were more shades of green than blades of grass in a field. Lavinia had dismissed the remark as part of Eleanor’s obsession with painting. But as she held the necklace to the light, she saw a hundred different variations of the color, ranging from the warm, fresh green of a leaf illuminated by summer sunshine, to the deep, cool green of an endless ocean.
She put Mama’s necklace on, relishing the feel of it against her skin, and placed the replica in the box. Then, on noticing a bureau at the far end of the room, she picked up the quill, dipped it into the inkpot, and scratched two drawings beside the phoenix. A bottle, bearing the label “laudanum,” and a male part.
It was almost too easy. Lady Houghton, like Lady Francis before her, had a guilty secret that Lavinia could use to her advantage to ensure her silence, were she ever to discover that the real necklace was missing.
She tucked the piece of paper beneath the fake necklace, then closed the box and pushed the drawer shut. Then she crept to the door and peeked outside.
The coast was clear. Placing a hand over the necklace around her throat, she crept along the corridor and returned to the ballroom, as a dance was coming to a close.
The couples dispersed. Henrietta passed by, arm in arm with her partner. Eleanor stood next to her mother at the far end of the ballroom—red-faced and downcast, most likely being lectured for not having secured as many dance partners as her younger sister.
Aunt Edna sat with a gaggle of matriarchs, drink in hand, engrossed in gossip.
Lavinia smiled to herself. The Phoenix had struck again, and nobody was the wiser.
“Whatareyou about, Miss de Grande?”
Her stomach flipped at the familiar, deep voice.
“Lord Marlow—this is becoming a habit,” she said. “Do you always accost young women from behind?”
“Only to heighten their pleasure, Miss de Grande.” A wicked glint shone in his eyes. “Did you forget you’d promised to give yourself to me? For another dance, at least.”
Once again, Lavinia found herself being led onto the dance floor before she could protest.
The music began, and the couples moved across the dance floor, myriad colors gleaming in the candlelight—bright silks, nodding feathers, and glittering jewels. Lady Houghton glided past on her husband’s arm, a necklace around her throat that could only be described as dripping with diamonds. No wonder Mama’s necklace had been discarded and thrust into a drawer. It was insufficiently grand for Lady Houghton’s taste. But no matter. The necklace would be reunited with those who appreciated and loved it.
“Your necklace.”
Lavinia’s stomach somersaulted, and she glanced up to see her partner staring directly at her.
“I-I beg your pardon, Lord Marlow?”
“I was remarking on how different your necklace looks compared to earlier,” he said. “Almost as if you’ve changed it.”
Her gut churned with fear. At that moment they were separated by the dance, and she found herself in the company of one of the Meredith twins for the next few steps. Handsome enough, but with an expression that was, at best, benign—or, if she were feeling particularly wicked,witless.
Which only emphasized the superiority of Lord Marlow’s mind.
Did he suspect she’d swapped necklaces?
When he rejoined her, she felt her body tighten with apprehension, and she lost her footing and stumbled against him. He took her hand in a firm grip and steered her around in time to the music.
“I realize why you look so different from when we danced earlier,” he said.
“Oh?”
“It’s not the necklace itself, but how you’re wearing it.”
His insight unsettled her.
“It’s around my neck, Lord Marlow,” she said, “as it was earlier this evening.”
“But it looks like it’s a part of you now,” he replied. “You seemed uncomfortable wearing it earlier.”
