Chapter 7
L ydia felt at home at Caldwell’s house. She’d been there many times since Honoria had secured the position as housekeeper, albeit without the earl’s knowledge. Lydia had never even officially met the man, until tonight. He was reclusive by nature, which suited Honoria perfectly.
This ball was the first event Lydia saw him host, and he only did that to build back the connections before his eldest ward’s coming out. Honoria had hoped that she had at least a year before the Caldwells would return into the spotlight, but some internal family matter had hastened the timeline. And now Honoria needed to leave this home.
And if only Lydia managed to steal the ring, they would both be able to do exactly that.
“Lady Clydesdale!” Lydia exclaimed as she encountered a beautiful raven-haired woman on the arm of a tall, stern-looking man. Lydia performed a curtsy. “My Lord.”
“Mrs. Lawless, a pleasure to see you here.” Lady Clydesdale’s face lit up in a smile. Lord Clydesdale’s gray eyes softened as he watched his wife.
Managing to spare a moment and take his gaze off his wife, he sketched a bow. “I trust you’re having a good evening?”
“Why, yes, thank you. I am.” The Clydesdales, somewhat of social outcasts themselves at the time, were the first ones to extend an invite to Lydia. She should say the first ones to officially invite her, as the invites she’d received from people before were all of a forged nature.
She and Honoria had made quite the team. Together, they had concocted a plan of how Lydia could infiltrate the ton , with Lydia procuring blank stationery and Honoria forging Lydia’s name on it.
They had chosen the grandest events deliberately, knowing she would blend seamlessly into the crowd. Lydia would carefully avoid the hosts, instead engaging in calculated small talk with those Honoria had identified as the most welcoming souls. After appearing at three or four gatherings, the acquaintances she’d cultivated began including her in genuine invitations.
“We haven’t seen you in a while,” Lady Clydesdale said. “Perhaps you would join us for a play at Medusa Theater sometime?”
Lydia smiled. “Only if the rumors are true and Viscountess Gage is returning to the stage!”
“If I told you that, it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?” Lady Clydesdale said with a wink and a laugh.
“You don’t say? The infamous Josephine is returning to the stage?” A woman whose name Lydia couldn’t recall unceremoniously cut into the conversation, providing Lydia with a perfect opportunity to slip away.
She continued flitting around the ballroom, making her presence known, pretending she hadn’t a care in the world, although her eyes were practically glued to the entrance, waiting for Art’s arrival.
Lydia dreaded seeing him again. She also anticipated it, was afraid of it, and looked forward to it… It was very complicated.
Lydia knew he would be in attendance, as Honoria warned her that he’d asked the earl to extend an invitation toward an acquaintance of his and his family.
Yet, it had been an hour, and he had yet to show up. Lydia grew less and less optimistic about his attendance. She found herself fidgeting with the tips of her gloves and biting the inside of her lip to keep her nerves at bay.
And then he appeared in the ballroom, and the entire world stilled.
* * *
Thorn straightened his cravat and scanned the crowd. Mr. Prescott—the man he’d asked Caldwell to invite—stood in the ballroom flanked by two young women. His daughters.
The short, stocky man with balding gray—almost white—hair, kept wiping his forehead with a handkerchief, looking uncomfortable. It was understandable since most of the crowd avoided them completely and walked past them without an acknowledgement of their presence.
This could be easily rectified.
Thorn cut a direct path toward them. “Mr. Prescott.” He extended his arm.
Mr. Prescott’s eyes widened as he alternated between looking at Thorn and his proffered arm as if it were a snake. Finally, he carefully shook Thorn’s hand. “Lord Thornton.”
“I would like to speak to you in private, if you don’t mind.”
Mr. Prescott licked his lips and glanced at an older woman by his daughters’ side whom Thorn hadn’t noticed before, then jerked his chin in a nod. “Of course.”
As quickly as Thorn had arrived, they left the ballroom. Thorn led Mr. Prescott to Caldwell’s library and closed the door behind them.
Mr. Prescott, still tense and confused, watched Thorn’s every movement.
“Would you like to sit?” Thorn gestured toward the two leather chairs by the fire.
Prescott cleared his throat. “No, thank you. I’d rather you told me what this is about.”
He mistrusted Thorn. This wasn’t unexpected. After all, Thorn’s father was Mr. Prescott’s long-time nemesis.
Mr. Prescott was a social climber. He made money with his chocolate business and was determined to marry his daughters into high society using his money as leverage. So far, he’d been unsuccessful. Mainly, due to Wakefield’s actions.
“I understand your reluctance,” Thorn acknowledged. “I know you do not trust me. I know that your relationship with my father is… strained.”
Mr. Prescott scoffed. “Strained?”
“Unpleasant.”
“He ridiculed me and my family. He cut every host who invited us to social events. He made sure I had few connections here. He worked really hard to make sure that my daughters would never marry into a title, and that says a lot since I am convinced he had never worked hard at anything before.”
Thorn made a face. “I am here to change that.”
“How can you, a viscount, undo what your father, the marquess, has done?”
“By marrying one of your daughters.”
A nervous burst of laughter left Mr. Prescott’s lips. “Why would I ever willingly send my daughter into the enemy’s lair? If that is some kind of a ploy—”
“It is a ploy but not devised by my father. It is a ploy against my father.”
“And why would you do that?”
Thorn’s jaw tensed. “Let’s just say I have no more love for the man than you do.”
“So the rumors are true? You are estranged?” Quite uncouth to openly bring up the rumors, but Thorn didn’t mind informality.
“Quite.”
Mr. Prescott relaxed slightly. He wiped his balding head with a handkerchief and let out a breath. “So you want to marry one of my girls to spite your father. What makes you think a union based on spite is one I am searching for?”
Thorn could see why Prescott was a successful businessman. He was quick, and he knew how to look out for his interests.
“Perhaps not, but you’re searching for a union based on a transaction. You are willing to trade money for the title; why not a little spite for the title?”
“Are you saying you are not interested in money?” He raised a brow.
“I am, just not yours. My father threatened to disinherit me if I don’t marry before his demise.”
Mr. Prescott snorted. “You are looking to marry quickly, then.”
“Indeed. And at least one of your daughters has been on the marriage mart for a couple of years now with no success. You were shunned from most society events, but one word from me, and you were invited here.”
“Just to be ignored,” the man chimed in.
“For now. But imagine if your biggest critic becomes your in-law. Your daughter becomes a viscountess. You’ll be quickly welcomed into the ton . And your other daughters will have an easier time marrying according to your wishes.”
“Is that all that you offer?” He frowned. “A wedge into society’s doors and a taste of revenge?”
“What else do you want?” Thorn scoffed. “A love match?”
“I assume that’s something beyond your capabilities,” Prescott said with a sneer. He was about to turn away, but Thorn caught his sleeve.
“I might not offer love to the woman I marry, but I offer respect. I might not offer passion, but I offer companionship. And I might not boast of reverence, but I offer loyalty. I might be a rake, but I am unmarried as of now. The moment I get betrothed, I shall not stray, at least not publicly; you shall have my word. I would not humiliate a woman who becomes my wife.”
Mr. Prescott narrowed his eyes. “There will be stipulations to that in the marriage contract, no?”
Thorn held in his smile and let go of the man’s jacket. “Absolutely.”
* * *
When Thorn disappeared out of the ballroom with Mr. Prescott, Lydia feared for a moment that she’d missed her chance, and he was gone. Now that he’d returned, Lydia knew it was time to make her move.
She skirted the edge of the ballroom, while watching him sip his wine and flirt with one woman after another. He hadn’t approached those women, in fact, he seemed disinterested in whatever was going on around him until he was approached. Then all his attention was on his conversation partner.
She remembered what it felt like talking to him. He gave his full attention to her, making her feel like she was the only person in the entire world.
Lydia’s heart fluttered in her chest while a huge boulder stuck in her throat. Her lips went dry, and she realized she hadn’t been breathing for a few long beats.
Releasing a breath, she scanned the ballroom with her gaze. In order to complete her mission, she needed to find—
Ah! There she is. Lady Stanhope—the dark-haired countess with the eyes of a huntress, well-known for her untamable spirit when it came to passionate liaisons. Lady Stanhope was entangled in many a scandal because of said spirit, shamelessly and openly making her husband a cuckold.
Lydia made her way toward the lady through the crush of bodies. She kept Art in the periphery of her vision to make certain that he hadn’t spotted her.
If he had, would he even recognize her?
Unlikely. Not in her fashionable wig, shiny, expensive gown, or how she’d changed in over a decade.
She reached the countess, who was in deep conversation with another scandalous lady. A gorgeous blonde with striking blue eyes. Miss Edith? Miss Alice? Lydia didn’t remember, not that it mattered.
She casually strode up to them and flipped open her fan. “Lady Stanhope.”
The countess, who was mid-sentence, looked Lydia up and down, then smiled. “Mrs. Lawless. I did not think I would see you here. You are not exactly one to frequent boring events such as a celebration of the return of a recluse earl. Unless you’re interested in said earl. Now that, I would understand.” She flipped open her fan and started vigorously shaking it. “He is quite a catch, isn’t he? Although he seems uninterested in female attention except to get his ward preemptive approval before her come-out, which means that, unfortunately, you and I are not of interest to him. Frankly, I am surprised we were invited.”
It’s because Honoria forged our invitations. Lydia smiled. “You are right. I find these kinds of functions quite boring. I suppose so do you. It is not the earl I have my eye on, however.”
“Ah, so a gentleman did catch your eye?” Lady Stanhope narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. She was known to be quite competitive with her liaisons. If a woman pointed out a man she fancied, Lady Stanhope would have to get him first.
Lydia sniffed and looked out into the crowd. “Indeed. Alas, he is currently looking quite un interested.” She pointed her fan discreetly at Art. Who was now dancing with Mr. Prescott’s daughter. How odd. First, a conversation with the man, then a dance with his daughter… What was that about?
Lady Stanhope raised her brow. “Thorn? Oh, please. One does not even have to try.”
“Oh, but I did. And he didn’t so much as look my way.” Lydia feigned a pout.
“That man isn’t even worth a challenge. He is a known rake.” Lady Stanhope laughed merrily.
“He is not worth the trouble,” the blonde woman chimed in. “All the rumors about his prowess are grossly exaggerated.”
Lydia raised her brow. “Have you already had him in your bed then?”
The woman lifted a shoulder in a delicate shrug. “I have. But he didn’t… ahem… rise to the challenge.”
Something burned deep inside Lydia’s chest, and it took her a lot of effort to maintain her composure. “How about you, Lady Stanhope?”
The countess shifted uncomfortably before raising her chin. “Not yet. But the rumors of his conquests are legendary. Perhaps the problem does not lie with him.” She threw a pointed glance toward the blonde.
“Pardon me.” Lady Wakefield suddenly appeared by their side. She looped her arm through the blonde’s as if they were the best of friends. “Would you mind if I steal you away for a brief chat?”
The two women shortly departed, and Lydia leaned closer to Lady Stanhope. “Would you care to test that theory? A shilling says you can’t lure him into the garden and keep him occupied for the next thirty minutes.”
“Thirty minutes?” Lady Stanhope let out a musical laugh. “That is too easy.”
“Then it will be an easy wager to win, won’t it?”
Lady Stanhope shrugged, but her calculating gaze was on Art. “That challenge is hardly worth an effort.”
“And you need to keep him occupied through any distractions.”
“Pshaw! Get ready to part with your silver.” Lady Stanhope flipped her hair back and squared her shoulders. “As soon as this dance is over, I am getting my prize.”
The bait was set. Now it was time to wait. “Good luck.” Lydia smiled at the woman and walked away. She picked up a glass of wine from the footman’s tray and moved to stand by the column at the edge of the ballroom.
“Is the plan in motion?” Honoria whispered from behind her.
Lydia jerked in surprise but quickly composed herself. As a servant, Honoria had mastered the art of staying hidden in plain sight. “Yes,” she answered without turning around. “Just as this dance is over, Lady Stanhope is going to lure him for a tryst in the garden. I just need to wait for a few minutes for them to get engrossed in a liaison before approaching them.”
“Are you certain Lady Stanhope will take the chain off him?”
Lydia frowned. “Why would she do that?”
“Then how are you going to steal the ring if—?” There was a brief pause, before she added with a chuckle, “Do not tell me you’re planning to hide behind the bushes with garden shears in your hands.”
Lydia pursed her lips.
“Lydia!” There was a note of horror in Honoria’s voice. “Do not tell me that is your plan. This is a ridiculous plan!”
“Do not fret, Honoria,” Lydia said in a calm whisper. “This isn’t the first time I have been tasked with stealing something off a man. And trust me, when men are involved in a tryst, they do not see anything else around them. Besides, Lady Stanhope will make sure to not let him get distracted.”
“What are you saying? You are going to just walk up behind him while he is tupping Lady Stanhope? How will he not see you?” Honoria was so doubtful it was almost insulting.
“Honor!” Lydia whispered furiously. “I am a professional. This isn’t my first day on the job, or do you forget?”
“Sometimes I think you forget,” Honoria grumbled. “You did not become the best-known thief by—”
“Shhh…” Lydia looked around to see if anyone was paying them any heed, but they were not.
“You did not earn your reputation by walking around arrogantly assuming you can easily do these kinds of things!” Honoria finished in a loud whisper.
“You were not there, Honor. Not when I earned the reputation, and certainly not in the last few months. I can do this,” she said confidently, and then added to herself, “Or at least, I hope so.”