Chapter 8

Theatre-Royal, Drury Lane

A fter taking a detour to drop Maude at her home, Briana's carriage rambled up Russell Street towards the Theatre-Royal on Drury Lane. She had a small window of opportunity to complete her latest task for the earl. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Thomas Walsh, her cousin, waiting for her. He was not hard to miss, given his lean, muscular physique and openly friendly disposition. Thomas was rich as Croesus, but most of his old money was tied up in trusts and estates he could not touch for some time. Briana was heir to a shipping company that was mired in debt. They were such a perfect pair of seemingly rich yet cashless young people. Thomas knew everything about her investigations business, and therefore she trusted him to help her—though he did so reluctantly, believing she was playing a dangerous game.

Thomas looked at his timepiece as she approached. "2 a.m. exactly. Well done, Bree. I knew you had it in you to be punctual."

"What choice did I have with your cloak-and-dagger message delivered via footman to a private terrace, of all places?"

Thomas grinned. "I thought it was a nice touch. I figured if someone intercepted the note, they would assume you were having a torrid love affair with a ruffian. Give the footmen something to talk about."

Briana shook her head. "Trust you to court a scandal on my behalf. Now, are you ready?"

"Tsk tsk, cousin. Of course I'm ready. I am the king of meticulous subterfuge. Now, I await your instruction, oh queen of shadows."

Briana rolled her eyes at his antics. "There is only one guard who watches the office until the changeover, the others walk the theatre to guard against pickpockets. I need you to cause a distraction that gives me long enough to break in and retrieve the items."

"I have it all under control," Thomas replied.

The earl wanted the jewels from a safe located backstage in the manager's apartments. They had thirty minutes to spare before the guard changed over, so they decided to mingle in the supper rooms during the intermission. That way, they would look far less suspicious than loitering in empty hallways.

It was then she felt a strange energy, as if someone was staring at her, piercing her soul.

Briana glanced up, and there he was: Victor Cambridge, staring directly at her and Thomas. Her heart leapt with joy at the mere sight of him until her eyes wandered to his right, and all joy fled. There, clutching his arm, was that Lydia woman. Briana came crashing back to earth. The man had charmed her through one dance, made her feel as if she were the only person in the room worthy of his undivided attention. But that was a lie, for here he was, publicly cavorting with his paramour.

She frowned, noticing he was glaring at her even from a distance.

"Friend of yours?" Thomas asked.

"No. He is no one. Let's... let's go. Make haste," Briana stammered and turned around at once, searching for the nearest exit. She could not bear to converse with Victor while his ladybird hung off his arm. The humiliation would be too great. To think she had believed their shared dance was the most glorious of her entire life! But to him—a man of such consequence, with easy access to the finest life had to offer by way of wealth and women—he felt nothing at all. Surely, he must find Briana ridiculous.

"Bree, what the devil? Where are you going, and why are you walking so fast?" Thomas asked as he lengthened his stride to keep up, for Briana was practically running for a door at the far end of the room.

"I don't want to talk to that scoundrel, that libertine, that—"

"Ah, Bree, I hate to say this, but your Mr. Scoundrel is practically charging his way over here right now. Whoever he is, you need to pull yourself together because you're attracting attention."

Briana paused after Thomas's set down. She realized he was right—she was causing a scene for no reason. "Damn and blast!" she cursed and stopped. Instead, she turned around and plastered a brittle smile on her face.

VICTOR WAS SEETHING when he saw Briana Walsh in the distance, laughing and gifting her radiant smiles to a rather tall and handsome gentleman. Even worse was the way she spotted him across the room, then dismissed him—as if they had never shared the most amazing dance of his life, bar none. Which said a lot, considering he hated balls and dancing in general.

That did not sit well with Victor. How dare she ignore him for another man? Before he thought better of it, he pulled away from Lydia and strode straight towards Briana. One look at her companion told him this must be the private assignation she had arranged for 2 a.m. Victor was livid that she could dance so freely with him earlier that evening and then come out to Drury Lane, of all places, with that cad. He hated her companion on sight. Victor was so focused on inserting himself into Briana's presence that he had forgotten all about Lydia until she squeezed his arm to get his attention. He hadn't even realized she had been practically running to keep up with him. In fact, he had totally forgotten about her.

Victor cursed himself for arranging her as his escort to see Hamlet after Almack's. He had received a tip-off that Agent X would most likely strike tonight in Drury Lane, and he needed to be at the theatre. He needed Lydia to act as his guest for the evening, but damn it, the woman was so clingy, he knew she would misconstrue the invitation.

Now, as he stood face to face with Briana Walsh, all thoughts of Lydia fled his mind. Instead, he experienced that disturbing sensation of being slightly tongue-tied again, and he wanted to bash his own head with a pylon if it would settle the raging thoughts going through his mind. Rather than open with a polite greeting, he couldn't help his abrasive tone when he demanded, "You did not tell me you would be here tonight!"

"My lord, I do not believe I have to inform you of any of my plans," Briana snapped in reply.

Victor gritted his teeth at her response as they stared silently at one another, as if they were the only two people in the room. Thomas did not say a word, and neither did Lydia, although they were exchanging confused glances between them.

Eventually, Victor broke the silence and asked in a demanding tone, "Well? Are you going to introduce me to your companion or not?"

Briana snapped in reply, "I don't know, are you going to introduce me to yours?"

Victor paused for a moment before it suddenly dawned on him why she was reacting the same way he was. He realized something he had missed earlier: Briana Walsh was not happy he was with another woman, judging by the way she was practically scowling at them both, just as he was glowering at her companion. Good grief, she was jealous. He was man enough to admit, so was he. For some reason, that made him instantly relax, and the tightening in his body eased completely as he gifted her with a heartfelt smile.

A smile that turned into a lethal glare when Thomas put his arm around Briana's waist and pulled her closer. It was a protective gesture, and Victor did not like it.

It was Briana's turn now to frown in confusion. Before either of them could make polite introductions, Lydia intervened. She placed her hand on Victor’s arm and said, "I am Lady Lydia Seymour, a very close acquaintance of Lord Cambridge, and I have been for some time. We are very close and share a long history."

Victor tried not to grimace. He did, however, remove Lydia's hand from his arm as he stepped forward to introduce himself to Thomas. "Lord Victor Cambridge. Pleased to make your acquaintance. And who might you be?"

"Mr Thomas Walsh. Briana's extremely possessive husband," Thomas replied without batting an eyelid.

Victor froze midway to shaking his hand. Lydia looked confused, and Briana gasped in shock.

Thomas continued to glare at Victor for several awkward moments before bursting out laughing. "My apologies. I merely jest. Oh, but you should see the look on your face! I am not Briana's husband; I am merely her first cousin. We are like brother and sister, and there is no way we would ever marry. I mean, ugh, can you imagine? Bleh, that would be just ghastly... I mean, ew—"

Briana stomped on Thomas's foot and hissed, "Be quiet."

Thomas sobered and whispered, "My apologies, it's just that there was so much tension I felt the need to break it somehow."

Briana wanted to hit Thomas over the head with her large reticule. He was forever making light of every situation. It was the most endearing and annoying quality about him. "In future, please think before you speak," Briana muttered under her breath.

Thomas gave her a sheepish grin then shut his mouth.

Lydia seemed more confused and just frowned.

Victor finally relaxed because for a moment, he had experienced an irrational emotion as if his heart had fallen out of his chest. If Briana were indeed married, he would feel the loss acutely, and he would probably have to murder Thomas.

Victor said, "Pleased to meet you. Miss Walsh and I are acquainted, and we had a rather lovely time dancing at Almack's earlier this evening. Did we not?"

Briana noticed Lydia stiffen at Victor's response, so she replied, "Yes indeed. Lord Cambridge and I shared a very pleasant evening dancing together, quite closely in fact. It was rather intimate." She embellished the last part for Lydia’s benefit.

"Indeed, we danced in rather close proximity during the waltz," Victor replied with a smirk.

Thomas subtly rolled his eyes.

Soon the crowd began dispersing to return to their seats, and Briana knew that was their cue to leave. She had to remember she still had a task to complete and could not afford any further distractions. After a brief conversation and more veiled set-downs exchanged between her and Lydia, they parted ways.

Briana wasn't sure how or why; all she knew was seeing Lady Lydia Seymour up close and personal gave her the urge to stab the woman in the eye with her hairpin. From the catty looks she was receiving from that quarter, it appeared the feeling was mutual.

"My dearest cousin," Thomas said as they were walking away.

"Yes?"

"Even if you are half in love with the man and jealous of his lover, try not to show it."

She whipped her head about. "What do you mean?"

"Good grief, Bree. You looked as if you wanted to stick a hairpin in her eye."

"How did you know that? Get out of my head, you invader of thoughts."

"It isn't half obvious—the attraction. He is a gentleman, and it is clear he was not touched by a troll wand at birth. So naturally, wealth and handsome features would make women cling to such novelties. But a word of caution, cousin: he is a man of the ton out in public at night with his long-term mistress. Whatever delusions you may have, set your cap on someone else."

"I have not set my cap on anyone."

"Right, of course you haven't. None of us ever intend to until our heart breaks and then we wither away pining for a love we cannot have and a future that is lost to us forever..."

"Thomas, did you just quote a line from your own play?"

"Yes! I did. How marvelous of you to remember, Bree. I am quite flattered. It's the most favorite line I've ever written because it is quite profound when you think about it."

"Only you would treasure the wisdom of your own words."

"Well, someone has to. It's not as if people pay to see a struggling playwright whose works will only become famous posthumously. Now then, let's get this illegal task of yours completed, shall we?"

Briana agreed, although she took another quick glance at Victor's retreating form. Lydia Seymour remained firmly planted at his side. Briana had the frightful urge to grab a potted plant and throw it at the woman’s head. She mentally shook herself. She was becoming far too violent at her tender age. Another year and she'd be as bitter and grumpy as Maude. But she had to admit with some mournful sorrow that she really needed to stop thinking about Victor Cambridge. The man was a distraction she could ill afford. Briana sighed and said, "You have to admit, Thomas, they do make a handsome couple."

Thomas snorted. "Only if you're attracted to a vapid, stuck-up poodle."

Briana couldn't help it; she started to giggle, and Thomas grinned. Then they sobered up and got on with their mission.

SEVERAL MINUTES LATER , Briana was in the manager's office. She had easily picked the locks and retrieved the jewels, the heist being relatively seamless. Thomas was currently providing a dramatic distraction. After securing the items in her reticule, she was about to leave when something caught her eye. It was a leather-bound diary of a sea captain from a ship she knew well: The Carthage. Her father had spoken at length about it. The ship was supposed to have disappeared without a trace, yet here was the captain's diary, sitting in the theatre office. Briana opened it and scanned the entries, then quickly rifled through the rest of the iron box and found maps and coordinates. She swiftly placed the lot in her reticule, re-locked the box, then hastily slipped out of the office and back into the supper rooms.

Thomas had already gone ahead to see to her carriage as Briana loitered behind and double-checked her haul again. She was just making her way towards the main entrance when she turned a corner and bumped into someone. Looking up, there he was again: Victor Cambridge, handsome as sin. Her resolve to forget him went straight out the window. She gave him a tentative smile. "My apologies. We seem to have run into one another again."

Victor did not move; he could not. He wanted to say so much, to explain himself to Briana even if he did not need to, but one look at her adorable face and he lost his train of thought.

"Is everything all right, my lord? Are you quite well?" Briana asked.

Victor blurted out, "Lady Seymour and I are just old friends. I needed an escort for the evening. She does have a maid with her, so there is nothing inappropriate. We have not—I mean, we are not... together in any sense. Not that you would think that, but in case you thought... I mean, we were, that is what we had... is very much in the past. She is not my mistress." Victor could not believe he had stammered all that out like an idiot. He, a man who never stammered and always knew exactly the precise words to say, was turning into a bumbling fool in this woman's presence.

Briana gave Victor a skeptical look. She knew that to be a lie, seeing as Lydia had been in his room that night when she robbed him. But damn it, she could not tell him that. What could she possibly say? "Don't lie to me, you libertine, because I am a thief, and I was sneaking about your house that night robbing you"? It was a lost cause. They were a lost cause.

Instead, she sighed and gave him an understanding smile. "My lord, please do not trouble yourself. You are at liberty to fraternize with whomever you please. I may be a wallflower, but I understand how the world works. We must find love and comfort where we can preferably without the censure and judgement of others. Good evening."

With that parting soliloquy, Briana took her leave just as Thomas arrived to escort her home.

Victor stood motionless as he pondered what Briana had said, and it only made her even more attractive in his eyes. As he watched her walk away, he glimpsed his footman still loitering outside. Tom discreetly made his way over. "Do you wish me to continue following the lady, my lord?" he asked.

"Yes, please do. I wish to know if she goes anywhere else tonight, and I want the address of her residence. I intend to call upon her tomorrow. I'll see you in the morning." Victor gave him extra coin, which put a wide grin on Tom's face. Then they parted ways.

Victor was just making his way back inside to see if he could find out if X was lurking in the theatre when a clerk came running toward the night watchmen, shouting, "Help! We've been robbed! Someone has broken into the office and stolen priceless articles!" Victor did not hesitate. He immediately moved into action in the hopes of catching Agent X in the act. He cursed himself for becoming distracted instead of scanning the hallways and remaining alert as he should have done. Damn it! Briana Walsh was becoming a problem he needed to rein in. He had never been so off focus before, and he was determined to get the blasted woman out of his head lest his highly ordered world unravel into complete and utter chaos.