Chapter 3

Three weeks later

"Are you certain this will work?" Fitz's grandmother pressed as she handed him the black velvet box that contained the jeweled tiara with the large, lustrous diamond at its center.

"Quite certain," he assured the dowager duchess. "The guests will be arriving soon. Why don't you go and greet everyone? I will join you once I've seen this stored securely."

His grandmother's blue eyes sharpened. "You are trying to dismiss me, Fitz. I am leaving now because I agreed to act as your hostess and I mean to do it properly, but we will talk more about my diamond later." She swept from the room, her dark-blue skirts and train whispering behind her as she left his study.

Fitz grinned as he opened the box and carefully removed the large diamond from the center of the tiara. He put the priceless stone in a brown leather pouch and then crouched by the corner of his desk. He pulled back part of the rug to reveal a loosened floorboard. Taking a letter opener, he pried the plank up. In the opening he'd created, there was a small iron chest. He opened the lid and placed the diamond inside before he locked the box and returned the plank and rug to their original positions. Then he stood and removed a small object from his trouser pocket. He held up the object to better see it in the daylight.

It was simple glass, hand cut to resemble the shape and color of the diamond from his grandmother's tiara. Beck had referred him to one of London's best paste jewel makers. Any expert would be able to tell the difference between this paste imitation and the real diamond, but in the heat of the moment a thief wouldn't have time to check for such things as air bubbles in the glass, nor would they have time to notice the warmth of the paste stone versus the coolness of a real diamond.

He hadn't told his grandmother that the true diamond would be safe. To her knowledge, the real diamond would be stored with the tiara. She had made it clear to him that she respected the Merry Robins and only reluctantly agreed to let him use her diamond as a lure to catch the thieves, so a part of him feared she would let something slip in the wrong company and his clever ruse would be for naught. It was better that she be kept in the dark on this matter.

He inserted the paste stone into the center of the front of the tiara and nestled the tiara back into its velvet box. Then he opened a locked cupboard in the wall with a small key and placed the velvet box inside before locking it up again. Fitz needed to catch the man, or men, red-handed, which meant he couldn't make it too hard for them to steal the jewel. An iron chest might provide too much of a challenge, but picking the simple lock on this cabinet would be easy enough for any thief.

During the day, a footman would be stationed outside the room, making it impossible to enter without his say. At night, he, Evan, and Beck would take turns guarding it in secret. Night would be the only time the thieves would come because he would not let the jewel be taken out and worn during the house party. The usual modus operandi of the thieves was to steal during public events or gatherings, but he wasn't going to make it easy for them. If they wanted the diamond, they would have to steal it under his terms. And when they did, he and his friends would be ready for them.

Once he was satisfied with the tiara's safety, he left his study and nodded at the footman waiting outside.

"Stay on guard, Oscar. I'll have Lee ready to relieve you in a few hours."

"Yes, Your Grace." The footman stood by the closed door of the study. Fitz had brought two of his most trusted footmen in on the scheme to catch the thief, as well as his valet, Stewart. They'd agreed to take turns watching for anyone who might try to steal the jewel.

When Fitz reached the grand entryway of Helston Heath, he found his grandmother greeting the steady flow of incoming guests. Fitz leaned against the wall of the corridor as he watched the men and women parade through his home from a safe distance. No one noticed him, as his grandmother had their full attention, which gave Fitz the chance to scrutinize each man carefully. Which were the thieves? Fitz would find out soon enough.

"We have tea on the back terrace for everyone," his grandmother announced. "Please feel free to freshen up, or you may go ahead and join the others outside."

Most of the men headed for the terrace, following the butler. Mr. Tracy, their longtime family butler, had preceded Fitz and the dowager from the London townhouse to open the country house and prepare for the party. Half of the ladies chose to be shown to their rooms, and footmen stood ready to lead them upstairs. More than one woman noticed Fitz lounging in the doorway as they passed, and each one blushed and glanced away. Most were young things, though a few were more matronly, but even they blushed when he nodded and smiled at them. He knew he could be charming when he wished to be.

"Welcome," he murmured as they passed him by like a colorful flock of birds.

A new trio of women came up the steps out front and entered his home. The first two he recognized as Hannah Winslow and Julia Starling. The two barely spared him a glance as they whispered, their heads bent toward each other. His lips twitched. Neither of them liked him, but Julia's aunt and Fitz's grandmother were old friends.

He had known Hannah's husband, Jeremy, when they'd been lads at Eton, and it had been a great blow to England to lose him at such a young age in that train accident. Fitz had spoken to these two women socially, even danced with them upon occasion, but they certainly weren't considered friends. The woman who followed Hannah and Julia, the one whose cornflower-blue eyes widened as she swung her gaze over the grand marble entryway of his home, was the woman he had been both dreading and hoping to see ever since he'd asked his grandmother to invite her.

Had he imagined what he'd felt for her the night he had met her? He'd convinced himself he had dreamt it, but now that she was here, he couldn't deny his fascination was as strong as ever. This woman held him spellbound. Her long dark hair was pulled up in loose waves with a red silk ribbon. She wore a red silk damask walking gown with a cream-colored bustle that tumbled into a short train behind her. The bold colors were regal on her, and she moved so carefully, so gracefully into his home, that he briefly felt as though she were some lost princess who had found her way to his door. It was a foolish, romantic notion, but it seemed she had a way of bringing sentimentality out of him.

When her eyes finally swept his way, his heart stuttered for a moment and he held his breath. Her luminous, expressive eyes revealed surprise, then delight, then apprehension. It was as if she was a damned mirror of his own soul.

Hannah and Julia slowed their steps to wait for her, and she blinked, breaking the spell between them before she rushed to join her cousin and her friend.

Tabitha Sherborne. At least he now had a name for his mysterious beauty.

Fitz smiled as he watched her flee a second time. She could run, but he loved to chase. Perhaps this was what he needed. A romantic diversion. Something to keep his mind at ease during his pursuit of these thieves. He hadn't had a mistress in more than a year, and only a few brief nights in Scotland with a few ladies who had expected nothing of him come morning.

Fitz's smile widened as he realized there was one very big problem with what he wanted. Tabitha was not the kind of woman a gentleman had a brief affair with. She was clearly a gentle-born lady from a good family who had not yet married. He couldn't, or rather shouldn't, seduce her. She also had an uncanny effect on him. She made him lose control of his emotions, made him forget to breathe and forget where he was.

Looking at Tabitha was like falling into a dream full of moonlit palaces and the heavy aroma of blooming flowers. He'd heard of the hazy dream worlds that opium addicts lived in, and it reminded him of how Tabitha made him feel now. Drunk with desire and out of control.

More guests trickled through the front doors, and he finally joined his grandmother to perform his duties as host.

"There you are, my boy," she murmured between greeting the next few guests.

"Here I am," he chuckled.

"Your Miss Sherborne was just here."

"She isn't mine," he reminded her.

"Yet." His grandmother smiled, the sheer determination of a woman of her age and status warning him she meant to see it happen.

The word "yet" should have been a threat to his carefully controlled world, but instead it felt strangely like a promise.

* * *

The house was large.Too large. Tabitha felt exposed by the open spaces of this palatial country home. She'd spent the last several months in London with Julia and Hannah in Hannah's townhouse, not the country. This was an entirely new experience for her. Every marble surface glowed. The staircase was wide and the rugs were new. The portraits and tapestries that covered the walls were stunning. There was so much to take in, she didn't know where to start. Her gaze darted around at everything, trying to soak it all in.

And that was when she saw him. The mysterious stranger she'd met the night of the musicale. She froze in place as his gaze locked with hers. He was leaning against the wall and the corridor stretched behind him. He wore a fine three-piece suit of dark blue, absent a frock coat or morning coat, which was somehow wonderfully yet subtly indecent to her eyes. He wore a crisply folded ascot of a bright white that offset his dark suit. He looked like a bemused Roman god watching over the mortals entering his realm.

"Tabby, come on," Julia whispered.

She pulled away from the man's gaze. Her friends were much farther ahead of her on the way to the terrace, where tea was being served. She rushed to catch up with them, trying to put the mysterious man out of her mind for now.

They had a diamond to steal. The mission that had brought her into the world of the Merry Robins was even more important than before. Only last week, Hannah had received a letter from Anne, her friend in America who'd been ostracized in London because of Lord Helston's actions.

Anne had written to say that she couldn't make a match in New York either. The unanswered questions surrounding the breaking of Anne's engagement had doomed her prospects in England. But those questions had followed her across the ocean and manifested themselves as wild and unsubstantiated rumors of gross misdeeds and inappropriate behavior. It had taken on a life of its own to the point where she dared not show herself in public anymore. Julia and Hannah had decided that they couldn't wait any longer to punish Helston for his misdeeds. They had hoped to wait until he'd chosen a bride and given her the diamond, but Hannah had been adamant about her need for revenge, even though the diamond still belonged to his grandmother. The man simply had no other weaknesses they could exploit.

Tabitha joined Hannah and Julia as they crossed the threshold onto a large stone terrace decorated for a fine afternoon tea. She recognized many of the guests here from previous engagements where the Merry Robins had struck, which would make things tricky. But this house was far more intimidating. Not only were there the other guests to avoid, but here there were triple the number of servants present.

"We will have eyes on us everywhere," Tabitha said as she accepted the teacup Hannah offered her. The trio walked to the edge of the terrace to drink their tea where they could avoid being overheard.

"I suppose night will make it easier, won't it?" Hannah suggested. "There will be fewer servants about. If we go after the diamond sometime between midnight and four o'clock in the morning, everyone should be in bed."

"That brings us to our next obstacle. Where would the jewel be hidden? This house has a thousand rooms. We can't rely on any of our plans from when we were intending to steal it back in London." Tabitha nodded at the back of the vast manor house. All she saw was an endless row of windows stretching into the distance.

"Hannah," Julia began. "You know Helston better than I do. Perhaps we could get him to give you a tour? He will treat you better than either of us. You could investigate the house while he shows you around. I think he would tell you quite a bit if you asked him nicely," Julia said, batting her eyelashes for effect.

"I doubt he would," Hannah said with a soft laugh. "The last time he and I spoke, I slapped him."

Julia gasped. "You didn't, did you? When was this?"

"The week after Anne sailed for New York. I ran into Helston at a ball and he asked me to dance. I lost my head—or rather, lost my hand." Hannah bashfully sipped her tea. "I don't regret it. The look on his face when he reached up to touch his cheek—he clearly hadn't expected me, of all people, to strike him."

Tabitha bit her lip to hide a grin at the thought of sweet, gentle Hannah slapping the beautiful bastard's face. It would have shocked her to witness that as well.

"Oh Christ, there he is," Julia hissed and nodded at a man who had just stepped out onto the terrace.

Tabitha studied the people around her but noticed only one gentleman who had joined the guests in the last minute. The mysterious stranger from the musicale. She was about to ask who they were referring to, only it was clear on their faces it was indeed him.

"No..." She hadn't breathed a word of her encounter that night to her friends. It had been too personal, too special to tell anyone.

No, no, no...He couldn't be the duke. A duke would have introduced himself to a lady if they'd met under such circumstances. A duke would not have hidden at the top of the stairs with her, would he?

"Julia, is that Lord Helston?" She flicked her gaze toward the gorgeous man in the three-piece suit who was slowly making his way toward them.

"Yes, that's him," Julia scoffed softly. "I told you he was a beautiful bastard."

"Steady yourselves. Here he comes," Hannah said a moment before Lord Helston stopped directly in front of them. His stormy blue eyes took the three of them in, and his lips twitched as he bowed.

"I missed my chance to welcome you to my home. Miss Starling, Mrs. Winslow." He addressed the other two first. "It's good to see you again."

"Thank you for the kind invitation, Lord Helston," Hannah replied smoothly, though a little icily.

"Given our last encounter, I'm surprised you accepted."

"Yes, well, between you and your lovely grandmother, only one of you needed their behavior corrected," Hannah said crisply. "I would never refuse Lady Helston's invitation."

The duke laughed, flashing straight white teeth like a wolf. The rich sound of his laughter did something strange to Tabitha's belly, turning it into a warm mess of chaos. She placed her hand on her stomach, fighting to remain calm, but her small movement didn't escape his notice.

"Forgive me, I must request an introduction to your companion, Mrs. Winslow."

"Ah yes. This is my cousin, Miss Tabitha Sherborne," Hannah said. "Tabitha, this is His Grace, the Duke of Helston."

Julia nudged Tabitha, who instinctively flung her hand out toward the duke. He bent over and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. Heat flared from the point where his lips touched her skin and rippled through the rest of her like a stone cast into a deep lake.

"Welcome, Miss Sherborne."

"Th-thank you."

"We were just speaking about how beautiful your home is, Lord Helston," said Julia. "Tabitha doesn't often see houses of such grandeur. Could we trouble you to give her a tour of the house and grounds?"

Tabitha stiffened and shot her friend a questioning look. Julia nodded her head ever so slightly to encourage her.

"Would you like that, Miss Sherborne? To tour a home of such grandeur?" A devilish mischief lit up Helston's eyes.

"Y-yes," she replied. Lord, she was mad to think this was a good idea.

He offered his arm to her. "I'd be happy to show you around."

"Wonderful." Julia gave Tabitha a little shove, and she almost stumbled into Helston forcing her to clutch his arm. She shot a glance back at her friends, who gave her nods of encouragement that she should go with Helston. This wasn't to be just a simple tour. She was to examine the house for any place where he might hide the diamond. So be it.

"This way, Miss Sherborne." Helston covered her hand on his arm with his own. She noticed that he wore no gloves, and neither did she. That skin-to-skin contact was warm and as electric as theater lights. She was far too aware of him.

"Helston Heath was built in 1549. After a fire in 1703 they rebuilt the wooden Tudor manor house with the stone one you see before you." He led her along the garden path that traversed the length of the back of the house. When they were far enough away from any of the other guests, he met her gaze.

"So, we meet again, properly this time," he said with a chuckle. "I've been most curious to find you since you fled like some cinder princess, only you left no shoe behind on the stairs for me to clutch to my chest."

She blushed and reached into her skirt pocket, producing the handkerchief of his that she'd kept with her since that night.

"This is yours. I didn't mean to keep it, but I didn't know who you were to return it to you." She was reluctant to part with it, however. Even now that she knew this man was a bastard, she didn't want to let go of something that held such a wonderful memory for her. In that moment, she'd been no thief and he'd been no duke. They'd simply been two people in the dark, sharing a personal moment from the depths of their souls.

"Please keep it if you wish. There is always a chance you will be moved to tears by my house and wish to cry again," he teased.

Unable to resist, she laughed. "It is an absurdly large house," she observed and clamped her mouth closed in embarrassment.

"It is, isn't it? It will be nice to have all those rooms filled for the house party," he admitted. "The emptiness can be lonely."

She thought of her old living quarters in the warehouse by the docks and how, even surrounded by other young girls, she'd felt entirely alone.

"It's possible to also be lonely in a crowded room," she observed.

He sighed, the sound so weary that it tugged at her heart. "How right you are."

"Let me show you the inside." He escorted her to a back entrance past the gardens and a large hothouse, where he held open a door for her.

"Do you enjoy reading, Miss Sherborne?" he asked as she stepped inside with him.

"Yes."

He joined her, closing the door behind her as they faced a long corridor of rooms.

Helston flashed her a charming yet arrogant grin as he began to quote from a book:

"The White Rabbit put on his spectacles. ‘Where shall I begin, please your Majesty?' he asked. ‘Begin at the beginning,' the King said gravely, ‘and go on till you come to the end: then stop.'"

"Alice's Adventures in Wonderland," Tabitha said with a delighted smile. She'd read the book a month ago, and it had struck a chord with her.

"Exactly. So, let us begin at the beginning." He waved around at the portraits as they passed. "These are Helston ancestors. Stuffy-looking fellows, aren't they?" His tone was still teasing, and Tabitha leaned a little closer to him, her arm still tucked in his as they walked. He showed her a series of grand rooms, ending in one that was a blend of white walls, gilded surfaces, red damask curtains, and impressive furniture. The ceiling depicted a vast fresco of Greek gods at play on Mount Olympus.

There was also a large family portrait at the far end of the room, which they now headed toward. It depicted a lovely couple and a young boy of six or seven relaxing by a lake in a pastoral scene, while a hunting dog sat beside the boy as he petted it affectionately.

"Is this you?" Tabitha asked.

Helston's gaze softened. "Yes. That is me with my parents." He looked away quickly, and she saw a flash of old pain in his eyes. He was quick to pull her away from the painting. "Right, shall we continue?"

"Your Grace." Tabitha pulled on his arm, forcing him to stop. "I never had the chance to say thank you for sharing about your father the other night."

A tic worked in his jaw as he struggled for words. Was he angry with her?

"I... I usually don't speak about my father," she added softly. "But it was nice to talk with you about mine, and about yours."

His features grew harsh in their beauty as his lips parted, but he hesitated a moment before speaking.

"Miss Sherborne, we should continue the tour."

She did not bring up the subject of fathers again as he led her from the room. He had shut himself away in some inner tower where she could not reach him.

As they passed by a series of rooms, she saw a footman standing guard quite obviously in front of one of the doors. It seemed strangely out of character for a servant to be so visible, given how invisible servants were supposed to be.

"What's in that room, Your Grace?" she asked, pointing to it.

"What? Oh, that's my study. I decided a little extra security was necessary. With those Merry Robin thieves running about London, I decided to bring my grandmother's tiara to the country, where it would be safe. Those thieves are less likely to come out here when they have plenty of jewels to steal in London."

Tabitha was well practiced in hiding her reactions to things that might otherwise catch someone off guard. "Surely you don't think those thieves would steal from your grandmother?"

"The principal diamond in that tiara is second only to those found in the Crown Jewels, and it is meant to be a wedding gift for my bride, when I decide to marry. All of London knows that gem is all but mine. It's my duty to protect that diamond."

Tabitha saw the flash of arrogant entitlement in Helston that her friends had spoken of, but she also saw something they hadn't. Yes, he seemed quite arrogant, but she was good at reading people, and she saw that Helston's mannerisms were a carefully constructed fa?ade. Just like hers. She was no highborn lady, yet here she was, strolling along with a handsome duke, enjoying a respectable tour?—

Helston suddenly pulled her into an empty drawing room and pressed her against the wall, one hand covering her mouth as he pinned her with his body. The flare of panic at being so close to a man she didn't know faded beneath the strange sense of rightness to it, to him. He smelled of woods and wildness as her skirts tangled about their legs when he slipped one of his feet between her own, moving them even closer together.

"Hush," he whispered, his lips caressing her ear. She started to struggle, afraid of what he intended to do. No matter how much she liked him this close, she couldn't let him do anything so dangerous as kiss her because she'd give in to her own desires and let him. She had to keep herself from treading down a dangerous path that would complicate her mission to steal his diamond.

"Do you trust me, Tabitha?" he asked in a rough whisper that sent shivers through her.

She shouldn't. She ought to shake her head and push at his broad shoulders and escape him... but she didn't, so she nodded because she trusted him. After a moment, she realized that his focus wasn't on her, but on something outside in the corridor. Someone was coming.

"Good. Now, be very quiet or they'll hear us," he warned and lowered his head toward hers.