Chapter Ten
Heavens. The man exuded handsomeness, easily exceeding the attractiveness of the carefully conceived figures of sculptors’ and painters’ imaginations.
“May I have this dance?” Arthur swept into an elegant bow, one that managed to emphasize the broadness of his shoulders, the firmness of his torso, and his long, well-shaped legs.
He stretched his hand toward her, and sun-kissed skin peaked from his ebony tailcoat.
It shouldn’t have felt so familiar.
Seven years should suffice in length to forget the broadness of someone’s shoulders, the exact height of the man’s towering form, and it should certainly should be long enough to banish the memory of the exact manner in which his lips pulled into a smile.
Seven years should be long enough to no longer desire to ponder the exact twinkle of his eyes, and her heart certainly shouldn’t warm in his presence.
It was a wonder she had a heart at all after the man had taken such efforts to dismantle it.
She raised her chin and steadied her gaze, ignoring his outstretched hand. Even though marquesses who controlled vast amounts of wealth might be more accustomed to seeing priceless heirlooms than their poorer counterparts, they likely didn’t think jewels made a habit of appearing in women’s palms.
The man’s features dipped into something slightly less reminiscent of cherubic joy.
She dipped into a curtsy. “My lord.”
“My lady.”
She’d managed to convince herself at one point that he’d cared for her. Memories of strolling the Royal Academy of Arts, riding his curricle through Hyde Park, and finding delight in discussing even the most mundane things with him faded.
All ridiculousness.
He clasped her hand, but she tried to pull it away.
They couldn’t dance.
Dancing would be impossible. Utterly.
The bracelet was still in her hand.
His grip tightened, and then his expression changed. He forced her palm open and stared at the sapphire bracelet.
Her heart might be racing, urging her to run from the ballroom, but it was too late.
I’ve been caught.
In a crowded ballroom.
By the man who despised her.
She struggled to control her breathing. She had to think.
Calmness. She had to emanate calmness.
“What did you do?” he growled.
She strove to think of an explanation for why she was holding precious jewels in the palm of her hand.
Unfortunately she couldn’t think of anything.
Madeline gazed downward. She laughed. “The clasp broke on my bracelet.”
“Don’t feign insipidity.” Arthur closed her palm, but his hand remained on her wrist. “I know this doesn’t belong to you.”
“It does—”
“It belongs to the Comtesse Beaulieu. A fact I’m sure you’re aware of.”
Her heart thudded in her chest.
She’d always feared discovery.
And now it had happened.
By someone who knew her, someone to whom she couldn’t give a false identity, someone who—
The melodic notes of a waltz began, and Arthur’s expression hardened. “Dance with me.”
“I—”
“You have no choice,” he said sternly and pulled her into his arms. “See that room in the corner? We’re going to go there.”
The waltz.
Of all the dances in the world, the musicians had to be playing a waltz. There was no opportunity for escape with Arthur’s hands clasping her. Couples swirled about them, and Arthur led them into the dance. She glided in his arms, conscious of the whirl of the silk dresses and vibrantly colored waistcoats of the other guests. The violins hummed pleasantly, and it would be so nice to imagine that they were dancing for another reason.
He maneuvered them elegantly across the marble floor, never lessening his grasp on her hand and waist. The door grew closer, and then he swung it open.
“Inside,” he growled.
She stepped into a small, dark room, and he bolted the door behind them.
“You’re a criminal,” Arthur said.
It shouldn’t matter if he was disappointed in her, but the solemnity in his voice seemed worse than that of any magistrate.
“What on earth were you thinking?” Arthur asked. “You know better than that. Your sense of propriety is renowned.”
Madeline stiffened. “So people like to tell me. I’m the somber Amberly cousin. I don’t have a large family like Rosamund, and I don’t have a budding archaeological career like Fiona. Well that doesn’t mean I’m completely dull, even if I memorized the ways of the ton better than both of them.”
“Obviously not,” he said. “Do you need money? Because a life of crime should never be an option.”
“It’s not about the money.” She darted her gaze about the small room. It contained only a table with some flowers on it, and music still trickled through the door. A window was on one side, but with Arthur here…”
“You can’t run away,” Arthur said. “Tell me now.”
“Or else?”
“Or else I call the others. All I need to do is raise my voice—and trust me, I do know how to make my voice carry, and you will be imprisoned.”
“Who exactly are you?” she asked.
His face darkened. “A guest.”
Madeline didn’t believe it. “You seem to care greatly about letting the French keep the spoils from their invasions.”
He flinched but remained silent.
Madeline sighed. “The French attacked the Italian peninsula.”
“I know.”
“I’m sure,” she said icily. “They destroyed crops and ransacked everything. Sanctioned by Bonaparte of course. Most people would see it as a small crime compared to the murders and assaults the army of peasants also committed. But the thing is, to the families, the jewels mean everything. They are heirlooms and an insurance policy should they ever need money.” She gave a bitter smile. “And I assure you, when your land has been destroyed and everything of monetary value taken from you…you do want the option to sell even things of immense sentimental value.”
He looked at the sapphire bracelet. “So you’re stealing the jewels back?”
“Indeed. I’m returning the jewels to their rightful owners. I only steal them when the people in question have refused to return them,” Madeline declared.
“That doesn’t make it better,” Arthur replied.
“I doubt the comte and comtesse are precisely poor. They didn’t even pay for the bracelet.”
“And what do you gain from this?”
“The satisfaction of doing the right thing.”
“The law would debate it.” Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “How can you risk your life for small pieces of colored stone?”
“They’re more than that. For the family that owns them—they’re everything.”
“You always were interested in such things.”
“You always noticed.”
“I suppose that’s why you married the baron.” His voice sounded almost wistful, and she gazed at him sharply.
“What you are doing is not safe.” Arthur paced the room in long, furious strides. “You’re a woman—”
She shrugged. “I never travel alone. And my job is perhaps easier, because fewer people suspect me. Did you suspect me?”
“No.” Arthur flushed. “But you can’t simply go about stealing things. Any one of the guards could have shot you if they’d seen you. We’re in a country that has beheaded nobles with glee! You must have picked up a broadsheet once during the war.”
“Naturally. But that doesn’t change the fact that what I’m doing is important.”
“And even if you’re right,” Arthur said. “Do you think a single court will uphold that here? If the people couldn’t get the jewels back through natural means, how are the courts supposed to see it when they’ve done so by illegal means?” He raked his hand through his hair. “Blast it, there’s a process. We’ve just achieved peace with France. A rare thing. We’ve been battling off and on for centuries. You shouldn’t risk the peace. If the French government knew a woman in your position was openly stealing from them—”
“Please don’t imply I want a war with France. I don’t. But that doesn’t mean we can let them do whatever they want. Is that why the battlefields were stained pink with the blood of so many young brave boys? Justice is important. And I am valuing that.”
Voices ushered forth from the ballroom. The waltz had ended, and people were once again chitchatting.
And hopefully not listening at doors.
“I will return the jewels,” Arthur said. “I’ll tell them I apprehended the criminal. You can run away. Out that window. It’s to a courtyard. The window opens onto some bushes. The guards shouldn’t be able to see you from that angle.”
She was silent, and his face reddened. “I am offering to help you.”
It was tempting.
Exceedingly.
But she wouldn’t do it.
She’d come so close to being able to give all the jewels to the Costantinis.
And furthermore—
She sighed. “I don’t trust the guards to not shoot.”
“Then you can turn yourself in. Perhaps they will be less harsh—” His face flickered uncertainty. “I do not advise it though.”
“Then I must do the third option.”
“And what does that entail?”
“Give me the bracelet first,” Madeline said.
“Nonsense.”
“Very well.” Madeline lifted the hem of her dress and removed a pistol from the holster on her leg.
Arthur’s eyes widened. “What on earth are you doing with that?”
“I know,” she said. “It’s small. And it only has one shot.”
“Madeline.” He swallowed hard, but her heart still quickened at the sound of her first name on his lips.
It didn’t matter.
She couldn’t trust him.
She continued to direct the pistol at him. “Do not move. I don’t want any trouble.”
“Madeline.” He spoke softly but distinctly. “Don’t do anything rash. I can’t protect you.”
She stepped toward the window. “Give me the bracelet back.”
“I won’t.”
“Give it to me,” she said sternly.
He slid it across the table, and she grabbed it. “Don’t follow me.”
Arthur stood. “I don’t think you would want to shoot me.”
He moved toward her.
He was going to take the pistol. He knew she wouldn’t shoot at him. He knew—
Her heart sped.
The vase.
She could use the vase.
She picked it up and flung it at him. He toppled to the floor. Heavens.
Regret coursed through her, but she couldn’t linger. She rushed outside and into freedom, clutching the sapphire bracelet in her palm.