"So," Gerrard said, untangling his legs and rising, "we let it appear that I'm still chief suspect, all but convicted, and wait for the Spectre-"
"Or the thief-don't forget you're prime suspect there, too."
Gerrard nodded. "So we wait and we watch for their next move."
"Right." Vane started down the mound. "That, at the moment, is all we can do."
Chapter 9
Two days later, Patience sat in her private parlor and applied herself to her embroidery. The cloths for the drawing room were almost finished; she'd be glad to see the last of them. She was still confined to the daybed, her knee still bound, her foot propped on a cushion. Her suggestion, made earlier that morning, that she could probably hobble perfectly well using a stick, had made Mrs. Hen-derson purse her lips, shake her head, and pronounce that four days' complete rest would be wiser. Four days! Before she could voice her utter antipathy to the idea, Vane, in whose arms she'd been at the time, had weighed in, backing Mrs. Henderson.
When, after breakfast, Vane had carried her here and laid her on the daybed, he'd reminded her of his earlier threat to tie her to it should he discover her on her feet. The reminder had been couched in sufficiently intimidating terms to keep her reclining, attending to the household linens with apparent equanimity.
Minnie and Timms had come to bear her company; Timms was busy knotting a fringe while Minnie watched, lending a finger whenever an extra was needed. They were all used to spending hours in quiet endeavors; none saw any reason to fill the peace with chatter.
Which was just as well; Patience's mind was fully occupied elsewhere-mulling over what had ensued the first time Vane had carried her to this room. What with hiding her reaction, and her worries over Gerrard and the accusations hurled his way, it had been that night before she'd had time to fully examine the event.
Ever since, she had, at one level or another, thought of little else.
She should, of course, feel scandalized, or at the very least, shocked. Yet whenever she allowed herself to recall all that had happened, sweet pleasure washed through her, leaving her skin tingling and her breasts deliciously warm. Her "shock" was exciting, thrilling, an enticing reaction, not one of revulsion. She should feel guilty, yet whatever guilt she possessed was swamped beneath a compulsion to know, to experience, and an intense recollection of how much she'd enjoyed that particular experience.
Lips firming, she set a stitch. Curiosity-it was her curse, her bane, the cross she had to bear. She kne
w it. Unfortunately, knowing didn't quell the impulse. This time, curiosity was prompting her to waltz with a wolf-a dangerous enterprise. For the last two days, she'd watched him, waiting for the pounce she'd convinced herself would come, but he'd behaved like a lamb-a ridiculously strong, impossibly arrogant, not to say masterful lamb, but with a guileless newborn innocence, as if a halo had settled over his burnished locks.
Squinting at her work, Patience swallowed a disbelieving humph. He was playing some deep game. Unfortunately, due to lack of experience, she had no idea what.
"Actually"-Minnie settled back in her chair as Timms shook out the shawl they'd been working on-"this thief is worrying me. Vane might have scared the Spectre off, but the thief seems made of sterner stuff."
Patience glanced at Timms. "Your bracelet's still missing?"
Timms grimaced. "Ada turned my room upside down, and Minnie's, too. Masters and the maids have hunted high and low." She sighed. "It's gone."
"You said it was silver?"
Timms nodded. "But I wouldn't have thought it of any great value. It was engraved with vine leaves-you know the sort of thing." She sighed again. "It was my mother's and I'm really quite…"-she looked down, fiddling with the fringe she'd just knotted-"bothered that I've lost it."
Patience frowned absentmindedly and set another stitch.
Minnie sighed gustily. "And now here's Agatha similarly afflicted."
Patience looked up; so did Timms. "Oh?"
"She came to me this morning." Minnie frowned worriedly. "She was quite upset. Poor woman-what with all she's had to cope with, I wouldn't have had this happen for the world."
"What?" Patience prompted.
"Her earrings." Her expression as grim as it ever got, Minnie shook her head. ' The last small piece she had left, poor dear. Oval drop garnets surrounded by white sapphires. You must have seen her wearing them."
"When last did she see them?" Patience remembered the earrings well. While handsome enough, they couldn't have been overly valuable.
"She wore them to dinner two nights ago," Timms put in.
"Indeed," Minnie nodded. "That was the last she saw of them-when she took them out that night and placed them in her box on her dressing table. When she went to get them last night, they were gone."
Patience frowned. "I thought she seemed a bit distracted last night."
"Agitated." Timms nodded grimly.