Caroline was gratified to receive enough invitations in the afternoon post to show that society had not rejected her. If rumors of this latest loss got about, however
—
and they might despite Helen’s assurance that it would be kept quiet
—
then her situation would rapidly worsen. Every dog has one bite, but the second nip will ofttimes prove fatal
—
to the dog. It was of the utmost importance that she not only solve the mystery of the missing jewels, but also be seen at the most haute of ton parties, such as Lady Marlborough’s ball that evening.
The ever-faithful Newton would accompany her, after taking his dinner at Berkeley Square. They did not discuss the thefts over dinner with the servants about, but as soon as Newton brought his port to the Gold Saloon, Caro said, “It is pretty clear that the necklace was never stolen at all. I am now convinced Helen carried it home in her reticule and passed it on to someone. Miss Blanchard is the obvious person.”
“And Bernard is in it up to his neck,” Newt added. “He is the one getting money to bring that girl to London.”
“The money comes from selling the necklace,” Georgie said.
Newton scowled. “They are fleecing the poor girl, preying on her innocence. Demmed shame. She wouldn’t hurt a flea.”
There was no arguing with a man in love. “Who could this girl be?” Caroline asked.
Georgie replied, “You really should have gone to the ball with Dolmain and Lady Helen tonight, Caro. I understand your feelings, but how will you discover anything about Miss Blanchard if you lose contact with them?”
“I could try to get a line on Bernard,” Newt offered.
“Yes, and we must have someone follow Miss Blanchard as well,” Caroline added. “I wager she will be running that emerald brooch off to Stop Hole Abbey this very day.”
Newt peered owlishly into the grate. “They’ll wait until dark. Bernard will go. A lady wouldn’t venture to the Abbey.”
Caro said, “As we do not know where to find Bernard, we must keep track of Miss Blanchard. Crumm will find me a man for the job. He was useful to Julian for such things in the past.”
She called Crumm into the saloon and told him what she required. He pulled pensively at the lobe of his misshapen ear, and after listening, said, “Nolly Norton would be the lad for the job, but alas, he is a guest of the king at the moment. Newgate. Caught dead to rights nabbing a cove’s purse. When all is said and done, ‘tis best to keep such matters in the fambly. I’ll go myself, and let young Roger answer the door. His head will be so big, he’ll scarcely be able to carry it, but I’ll fix that in short order when I come back.”
Young Roger, the first footman, was a decade older than Crumm, but half his size.
“Thank you, Crumm. I knew I might count on you,” Caroline said. “But you are rather ... er, large. Can you loiter near Dolmain’s house without looking suspicious?”
“No need. I will hire a hackney coach for the night
—
Ned Stork has a fast team
—
and tool it around the block. No one will notice a dark hackney at night. She’ll not get away, madam. You may count on Crumm.” His massive shoulders squared and his chin rose to an impressive angle at this speech.
“I depend on you. There will be the usual pourboire,” she added, which brought a light to Crumm’s sharp eyes. The wages at Berkeley Square were good, but pourboires had been rare since his lordship’s demise, as were such sprees as this.
“I had best be off at once. I have a few preparations to make,” he said, and left.
After Lady Georgiana’s first taste of life the afternoon she had accompanied Caroline to the Pantheon Bazaar, she had felt an urge for more excitement. She did not foresee much hope for it at Lady Marlborough’s ball, however, so she meant to spend her evening with her customary company, a novel and a bottle of Madeira, in the small parlor. She was not left completely out of things. If Crumm returned with important news, she was to send a note to the ball informing Caroline that she was ill, to make an excuse for Caro and Newton to leave early.
“My old complaint, a reaction to shellfish,” she said.
At the ball, Caroline had the satisfaction of her usual popularity. To be on Lady Marlborough’s guest list was as good a character reference as any lady required. Lord Alton pursued her quite openly, and asked her to drive out the next afternoon. When Silence Jersey asked her in a coy way where Dolmain was this evening, she could reply with an air suggesting intimacy that Lady Helen had mentioned they felt obliged to attend her aunt Miriam’s rout.
“I heard you and Helen were on the strut today.”
“Yes,” Caro said, forcing a smile. She added, at random, that Helen and her papa would likely drop in at Lady Marlborough’s later. After she said it, she realized they might do just that
—
and God only knew how Dolmain would behave toward her. Helen might very well have succeeded in turning him against her.
With this possibility in mind, she accepted a second dance with Lord Alton, to give society something different to gossip about. They were just finishing the cotillion when Dolmain and Helen entered, around eleven-thirty. Caroline had been keeping watch on the doorway, and saw them come in. How handsome he looked in his formal evening clothes! The fluttering of her heart increased when his dark eyes raked the floor. When he spotted her, he stared, not smiling, but just looking coolly. She gazed back, unable to look away.
Dolmain’s thoughts were far from cool. He felt a burning sensation inside that had nothing to do with diamonds or emeralds, to see Caro flirting with Alton. It had been so long since he had experienced jealousy that he scarcely recognized it. The emotion had been long obliterated from his marriage by the time Marie finally decamped on him. His major sensation at the time had been relief, quickly followed by shame. His violent passion for his wife had not survived six months. That soon he had discovered her only love had been for his wealth and his title, in that order. But for a few months he had endured agonies of jealousy.
Although Caro did not resemble Marie physically, there was something of the same vivacity and coquetry in her manner. She exercised the same heady power over him. A lively lady was always his weakness. He had no use for dull virtue, but there must be virtue in a wife. He had learned that lesson at great cost.
No shadow had been cast on Lady Winbourne’s chastity when her husband was alive. That was not her weakness. When she loved, she loved only one man. But had she other, secret vices? An echo whispered in his ear.
We all have our little secret vices, you must know.
She had told him so herself.
When the cotillion ended, he looked to see that Helen had found a partner, then hastened across the floor to claim Caro.
“Lady Winbourne,” he said with a bow.
She was so relieved at his continuing patronage that she greeted him warmly, despite having sunk to “Lady Winbourne.”
Alton held on to her arm and viewed Dolmain with a jealous eye. “Tomorrow afternoon, then, Lady Winbourne?” he asked.
“Around four,” she agreed, happy to show Dolmain he was not master of the field.
“As we have had our two dances, I must leave you to Dolmain. I look forward to tomorrow.” He lifted her fingers to his lips, kissed the air an inch above them, bowed, and left.
“Two dances!” Dolmain exclaimed, with an accusing glance. “That suggests a certain intimacy with the gentleman. Determined to set society’s collective tongue wagging one way or the other, eh, Caro?”
“Alton is an old friend,” she replied, pleased at his ill humor. “You must not blame me for society’s love of scandal.” Not wishing to make a point of it, she immediately spoke of other things. “How was your aunt’s rout party?”
“Tedious. Orgeat and macaroons, a fiddler and a piano player, and not a pretty lady in the room, barring Helen.” Certainly no one to touch this violet-eyed charmer. “I was the youngest gent there, and we have already agreed I am ancient.”
“How boring for your daughter.”
“Not at all. Her job was to ingratiate Miriam, who is seventy-five years old, and a spinster. In other words, her fortune is at liberty. Odd you do not pity me.”
“What lady would you prefer to gaze on than Helen?”
“You
—
the fairest of them all.” He bowed and reached for her hand as he spoke. The orchestra was taking an intermission. As the crowd surged toward the refreshment parlor, Caro and Dolmain moved to the side of the room and sat down.
“Lady Helen will have need of her aunt’s fortune if she continues scattering her jewelry about town in her present fashion,” Caro said, to get the matter out in the open.
He sighed wearily. “Let us speak of other things.”
“No, Dolmain. I am not much good at walking on eggs. Let us speak of what is on both our minds. I did not take either the necklace or the brooch.” She took a deep breath and continued, “In fact, I do not see how anyone could have taken them. I think your daughter took them herself.”
He stared at her as if she had accused Helen of murder.
“Don’t look at me like that!” she said crossly. “No one had access to them except Helen and myself. I suspect your daughter is running some rig. She is young; she would not realize the seriousness of what she is doing. I believe Miss Blanchard is involved, and her cousin, Bernard.” She gave her reasons, mentioning the girl Helen wanted to see in London, and her defense of Miss Blanchard when no one had accused her.
“This is ludicrous!” Dolmain said angrily. “Helen knows the difference between right and wrong. Everyone who knows her will tell you her character is above reproach.”
Yet as he looked at Caro’s pale, worried face, he found it equally ludicrous to believe that she was a thief. He was in the unenviable position of having to choose between believing his daughter, whom he loved more than anyone else in the world, and the lady he was fast discovering he loved nearly as much.
“In a case like this, no one involved should be above suspicion. You did not hesitate to have me followed,” she retorted. “Who is this Miss Blanchard? What do you actually know about her?”
“She came with excellent references. She taught the Duke of Halford’s daughters. Her influence on Helen has been excellent. Helen has blossomed under her care. She would never harm the girl.”
“She has not harmed Helen. She has stolen valuable items belonging to you. It is myself she has harmed
—
my reputation.”
“Alton does not appear to mind your reputation,” he shot back, and felt like a schoolboy for his childish outburst.
“Don’t try to change the subject. Do you refuse to question Miss Blanchard, to look into her associates?”
“You are not accusing only Miss Blanchard, Lady Winbourne,” he said coldly. “You are also accusing my daughter of duplicity. It is irresponsible of you to do so. I assure you Helen would never behave in such an underhanded manner. We are very close. If she had fallen into a hobble, she would not hesitate a moment to ask me for money.”
“That would depend on what she required it for, I think.”
His eyes darkened to jet. A dangerous glint of fury flashed from their depths. His rigid lips lent a curt edge to his voice. “What are you suggesting, madam? That she has murdered someone? That she has gambled away her fortune? That she has fallen prey to a gazetted fortune hunter and is robbing her own father to oblige him? She has not been in London above a week. She is carefully chaperoned at all times.”
“She was not so carefully chaperoned the night she went to the Pantheon!” Caroline retaliated. “Is Pierre Bernard also above suspicion because he claims to be a cousin of your governess? Is
that sufficient for you? I am the daughter of a respected clergyman. My character is also good.”
“You are not so innocent as a seventeen-year-old lady.”
“I rather think I am a good deal more innocent.”
“This is pointless. We have nothing further to say to each other. Good evening, madam.”
He rose, performed a stiff bow, and walked away at a gait that betrayed anger. Caroline was emotionally exhausted. She wanted only to go home, and looked around for Newton. Sally Jersey came surging forward, her tongue running like a brook.
“Naughty puss!” she said. “You have annoyed Dolmain by giving Lord Alton two dances. It is your affair, but if I were you, I would prefer Dolmain. A marquess after all, and with those lovely estates in Kent and Derbyshire. Alton has only the one, you must know, and he
hires
his town house. You must not let Lady Helen put you off with her freakish sentiment for the Frenchies. She will be bounced off this Season. So pretty, and a handsome dot. You will not have her on your hands if you take Dolmain.” She peered inquisitively for her victim’s response.
Caroline forced herself to answer in kind. “You are too ridiculous. I have not had an offer from either one of them.”
“So standing up twice with Alton was a ploy to bring Dolmain up to scratch! You are up to all the rigs, Caro.”
She darted off before Caroline could deny this charge. Newton came wandering forward, looking remarkably like a badger walking on his hind legs and wearing a red wig.
“No word from Georgie?” he asked, sitting beside her.
“No, but I should like to leave now.”
“Haven’t had a dance with Lady Helen yet. Daresay her card is full by now. Meant to tell her I am writing a poem.”
This unlikely statement diverted Caro. “You, writing a poem? Pray, what is it about, Newt?”
“King Arthur,” he replied so promptly that she knew he was actually trying his hand at poesy. “Mean to say, an epic. Can’t write an epic about mad old King George, nor Prinny. Has to be heroic or about a great action achieved by a hero. Read it in Dr. Johnson’s
Dictionary.
Comte Edouard is already doing the revolution in France. King Arthur has King Louis beat all hollow, the round table and knights and all.”
“To be sure. Very lively stuff.”
“Just give me a minute. If Helen’s card is full, I shall go with you and get at the epic. I’ll just mention my epic poem to her, see what she has to say.”