The Theft Before Christmas (3 page)

By now the colonel would have realized that her Season had not been successful, and he would be pitying her. Which was totally embarrassing. If they were going to be spending the holiday together, though, he could not avoid learning about her misfortune.

"The captain and Lady Daphne are the most delightful people I know," she continued.

"We are blessed, Miss Huntington, to have them as friends, are we not?"

"Indeed we are fortunate."

Another silence fell between them like prickly blanket. She could tell he felt as awkward as she. "I suppose I shall have to go live with Mama and Papa, but I don’t look forward to it," she finally said.

"I sympathize, Miss Huntington. It is easier for your father because he has a purpose, and being an ambassador is a worthy profession."

She nodded. "He believes if he performs his duties in St. Petersburg admirably he may one day get one of the juicier plums."

"Which, sadly, used to be Paris and Naples. Before that mad Corsican came along."

"Surely this beastly war can't last forever."

"We are fortunate to have Spain and Portugal as our allies."

"Indeed."

"Hopefully, the three nations—and Russia and Prussia—can conquer the Conqueror."

"We must." She wondered if being posted in England bothered her companion. Most soldiers wanted to be where the danger was greatest. Lady Daphne said if it wasn't the Regent's specific desire that her husband stay in London, Captain Dryden would have happily returned to the Peninsula. Charlotte had often wondered if the Regent's command was to spare Lady Daphne from being widowed. The Regent
was
excessively fond of her.

"I have great confidence in Wellington," the colonel said.

"That is most reassuring—coming from a seasoned officer such as you." Uh oh. Would he be insulted, thinking she thought him old? Perhaps he wished to appear younger than his chronological years. Which made her try to determine his age. Her first impression was that he was the age of her father. . . which was? Well, she was nineteen, and Papa had been thirty when she was born, which would make her father nine and forty. No, this man was not as old as Papa.

She flicked a hopefully covert gaze in his direction. Colonel Bond was perhaps a decade younger than her father. Which was still quite old.

Perhaps the reason she had mentally linked him to her father was that his height—which was a bit under six feet—was the same as Papa's. Though he was considerably shorter than Captain Dryden, the colonel's body style was similar to the captain's. Both officers gave the appearance of being lean yet powerful. Like a panther. Both men were also possessed of dark hair.

Prickly silence continued.

Surely she wasn't so witless that she could not think of a single topic upon which they could converse. He had mentioned the Continent's formerly glittering capitals. "Have you ever been—before the current war, of course—to Paris or Naples?" she asked.

He nodded. "I had the pleasure of being in both of those cities." His lengthy, dark lashes lowered. "I was fortunate enough to have been in Naples when Lord Nelson was there."

She had never known anyone who'd ever actually met the great naval hero. "Did you get to meet him?"

"No, but I did see him as he departed his ship. A lot of us were rather gawking at him. That was just after the Battle of Nile."

She nodded somberly. "Papa let me come with them to the top floor of Childe's Bank with Lady Jersey to watch his funeral procession down the Thames. I was twelve, and I used up a lifetime supply of tears."

He chuckled. "Why, you're just a babe, if you were only twelve in 1806!"

Her eyes widened. "You thought I was older?"

He shrugged.

She suddenly realized why he would offer no further comment on the subject. They both knew how improper it was for them to be here together. Unchaperoned. How could Lady Daphne have even sent her off to his house—and asked her to wait for a response—knowing he was a bachelor?

Miss Charlotte Huntington prayed that her mother never learned of her indiscretion.

"So, is this your first Christmas away from your parents?"

She nodded.

"I should be gallant now and say I owe it your father—who was exceedingly kind to me—to stand in for him this Christmas, but I'm awfully afraid I haven't the least knowledge of fatherly duties."

She hoped that didn't mean his talents ran in the same direction Mama said most men's did. According to Mama, men had a prodigious urge to . . . scatter their seed. At the very thought of it, color hiked up her cheeks.

For some years now, Mama had warned her against the vile, lustful gender who would do or say anything to get beneath a lady's skirts.

Miss Huntington had wondered what it was beneath those skirts to so attract vile, lustful creatures. That question was most inelegantly answered when she was sent to Miss Huffdon-Bingley's School for Young Ladies. It was remarkable how many of life's mysteries could be demystified by a chamber full of gaggling girls late at night. Miss Huffdon-Bingley would have been mortified if she ever listened to her students' nocturnal discourse.

She heard the clopping of hooves on the street outside—which was a rare occurrence on this particular street. Keeping a coachman and stabling horses at a livery were very expensive endeavors, far from the reach of most of Daphne's shabby-genteel neighbors. Charlotte leapt to her feet and peered from the window. "It's not them," she announced, disappointment weighing on her words.

"I wonder where they can be?"

"It is most perplexing."

"'Tis a pity that I sent my coach away."

"Yes, it is."

The afternoon grew darker and darker, and by four o'clock, night had come. And still there was no sign of Lady Daphne and Captain Dryden.

The colonel got to his feet and faced her. "I fear they've forgotten us, Miss Huntington."

"I cannot believe it, but you must be right. . . unless something dreadful has happened to them."

"There is that. It
is
unlike Dryden to be forgetful."

Now she stood. "We must go look for them!"

"My dear lady, I cannot allow you to walk about the streets of Chelsea at night. It's far too dangerous. Surely you've heard of the footpads who will slit your neck for a shilling."

"It can't be that far to your mews, and with a strong—armed—man such as you to protect me, I know I'll be as safe as in my father's drawing room."

He eyed her somberly for a moment. "There is also the . . . ah, matter that it's most improper for you to be in a carriage with me without a chaperone."

He didn't sound as if he could ever be vile or lustful. "If Captain Dryden vouches for you, I know you're a worthy man."

"I vow to protect your person—as well as your virtue—with my life."

That was the most gallant thing any male had ever said to her. She could swoon. If she were the swooning type.

* * *

Daphne's brows lowered. "What do you mean, it was stolen while the room was filled with people?"

"Darling," Jack said, "why do we not have the Regent start at the beginning of last night's festivities?"

The Regent nodded. "Yes, yes. That's what I shall do. Now let me see. . . I had more than two dozen people come here last night to wish them a happy Christmas before most of them leave for their country houses to celebrate the Lord's birthday."

"We shall need all their names," Daphne said.

"Yes, of course." The Regent nodded. "Though I completely trust every single person who was here. I spent the night recalling each person who sat in this chamber last night and asking myself if any of them were capable of harming either me or our country, and I truly believe each of them completely trustworthy."

"What of your servants?" Jack asked. "Are any of them new?"

"They have all been in my employ for many years and are all loyal. You will find that I compensate my servants far better than others."

"It would help, Your Royal Highness, if you could give us some idea how the chamber was last night."

"I've done even better. I have drawn you a diagram of the room." He bent to pick up some papers on the tea table a few feet in front of him, but he seemed to be having difficulty.

Jack pounced to his feet. "Allow me." He handed the papers to the Regent.

Meanwhile Daphne came to stand behind the Regent's chair and peer over his shoulder. The diagram showed every chair, sofa, or piece of furniture in the chamber, with a person's name affixed to each in tiny printing. Of course, Lady Hertford was seated next to the Regent. As always. And Lord Hertford was on the opposite side of the chamber, standing by the harpsichord.

The Regent had even shown where the Madonna and Child statue was on a table that was centered in front of the fireplace. The Regent himself sat in the same place where he sat now, which was somewhat in the center of the chamber and squarely facing the Michelangelo—but from a distance of twenty feet or more.

Jack too came to stand beside his wife and peer at the diagram.

Daphne studied the names attached to each box on the diagram. She too had known most of them for much of her life. There was only one name with which she was not familiar. "Pray, Your Royal Highness, who is James Strickland?"

"I must own, he's the only one who was here with whom I have not enjoyed a longstanding friendship. He came with Lord Harvane. Apparently he is a close friend. They both belong to White's, and you know how difficult it is to be accepted for membership there."

She didn't look at her husband, who belonged to no gentlemen's clubs. "Then I daresay my father is acquainted with him."

"Had you explained to your visitors about the significance of the Michelangelo?" Jack asked.

"Yes. I waited until all those I had invited were present, and then I showed it to all of them. It is an awesome sight to see it on that table framed by a glowing fire. It's almost like a celestial experience."

"Yes, I can see where it would be," she said.

Jack came to stand in front of their monarch. "At what point, then, did you discover it missing?"

"Oh, it wasn't I who discovered it. Lady Hertford noticed it was gone just after the commotion."

Ah, ha!

Jack's brows lowered. "What commotion would that be?"

"Silly me," the Regent said. "I forgot to tell you the most telling piece of information. There was a decided distraction when the statue was taken."

"What kind of distraction?" Daphne asked.

"I would wager my cherished house the distraction was contrived so the odious thief could take the Michelangelo, but my servants swear no one else entered or left the chamber after the distraction. You see, they must open the door for each new entrant."

Just as they did for Daphne and Jack today.

"Pray, Your Highness, could you elaborate on this
distraction
?" Jack asked.

"Did I not tell you?"

"No, Your Majesty," Daphne answered.

"Harriette Wilson came storming in here."

Everyone in the kingdom knew that Harriette Wilson was the most famous courtesan in all of England. Daphne had never heard of a woman of Miss Wilson's wicked reputation ever being permitted in the same chamber with respectable women—unless one considered Theatre Royal Drury Lane a chamber.

"But doesn't everyone have to show the royal summons in order to gain entrance?" Jack asked.

The Regent nodded. "She did. We have since discovered her invitation to be a forgery."

Daphne placed her palms up. "It sounds to me as if we know who took the statue."

"But," the Regent answered, "all eyes were on her every minute she was here. I can vouch for the fact she could not have taken it."

"The thief obviously put Miss Wilson up to her stunt," Jack said, "counting on her serving as a diversion while he took the statue."

The Regent shook his head. "I know it seems logical that it happened like that, but it didn’t. As I said, the servants on the other side of the door swear no one either entered or left the chamber during the time Harriette Wilson was within."

"For curiosity's sake," Daphne said, "how did you get rid of her?" She wondered how he knew what Harriette Wilson looked like, but then realized one couldn’t go to the theatre without peering curiously into the box where she and her equally debauched sisters sat as if they were royal personages. Their kind of notoriety spread quicker than horse piss—as her Papa would say (much to Mama's consternation).

"First, I told her she was not welcome. Then I asked the closest footman to escort her not only from the chamber, but to see that she was thrown out of my house. It was a complete outrage!"

"Indeed it was," Daphne agreed.

Jack looked at the Regent. "Would you say that while she was in this chamber, all eyes were on her?"

"With certainty. Everyone in the chamber admitted to immediately recognizing her. You will own, she's notorious."

They nodded their agreement.

"In fact," the Regent added, "all activity stopped the instant she entered the chamber and strode toward me, an insipid smile on her face. I swear I had never met the woman before. I glared angrily at the audacious woman."

"And when she left, no one left right after?"

He shook his head. "In fact, not more than a few seconds after she left, Lady Hertford started screaming that the Michelangelo was gone."

"The first thing I did was to tell my footmen not to let anyone leave the room until a proper search was conducted."

"Everyone looked high and low, but it was hopeless."

Daphne's gaze fanned across the chamber, searching for any place that could conceal a small statue. Nothing looked very promising. All the chairs and sofas were on slender legs, and nothing could be concealed beneath them.

She rose and strode to the windows. The walls in which they were encased were about a foot thick. She had seen some of these that concealed shutters in a slender compartment.

She examined the thick walls surrounding each window in the chamber, but no concealed cupboards were found.

There was one heavily ornamented cabinet against the south wall. "I suppose you have already looked behind each of those doors and drawers?'