Chapter 15 #2
Looking over her shoulder, Jude nodded to the servant waiting to pull her chair back and then stood with the rest of the party as she set her cloth napkin on the bare table before her.
It was her cue to slip from the group as soon as possible, confident that Sam would take her place in the drawing room until the music started.
Lady Haversham sent a smile her way, likely noticing Jude’s discomfort. She returned their patroness’ grin.
They’d accepted the duchess’ invitation to this dinner party only that morning.
Lord Cartwright hadn’t made contract with her about exchanging the vase for money and Marce would return to London before the week was through, which meant their eldest sister would be forced to reconcile their debts.
If she and Sam had any hope of disposing of the cursed vase and slipping the banknotes into Marce’s private chambers without notice, they needed to work fast. Or find another—far simpler—way to obtain the coin they required.
That led to Jude graciously accepting Lady Haversham’s kind invitation to meet her at the Duke of Chamberlain’s annual dinner party. It helped that the duke boasted his riches far surpassed those of the royal family.
Jude fell in line with the other guests departing the room but kept from gaining the notice of any unaccompanied men in the group.
The grouping split, with the men continuing on to the duke’s study and Jude trailing behind the women as they approached the duchess’ drawing room.
Gradually, so as not to garner any suspicion, Jude began to slow her pace, pausing every few feet to inspect a hall table or painting on the wall.
Even the wall sconces didn’t escape her scrutiny—fine silver candleholders had never been as enthralling and appealing to her eye as they were this night.
She went so far as to run her finger along the frame of a large landscape hanging slightly askew in the hall.
From a room farther within the townhouse, a door shut, confirming that the men were safely within the study.
They would not to emerge for the appropriate time allotted for them to enjoy a moment of peace away from the nagging feminine voices of their wives, sisters, and mothers.
Even the draw of unattached, alluring debutantes was not enough to make a man forgo a strong drink and a cigar.
Jude fully halted before a large, gilt-frame oil painting depicting a man—probably the duke’s long-deceased ancestor—with a bulbous, scarlet nose, and blotchy, sagging jowls. If the artist had sought to show favor on the lord, then Jude shuddered to imagine the honest look of the man.
She raised a brow as she pondered the life circumstances of the man.
His red tinted nose and swollen face were surely due to an overindulgence of fine spirits and an unhealthy food regimen.
In similar fashion, he probably spent many nights away from his wife and when in residence, sought to avoid his own offspring.
That was the way of the privileged class.
To think she was stealing from a wealthy and depraved lord to give to the less fortunate and downtrodden allowed her to sleep at night.
Yet her nightly slumber had not been peaceful of late.
The cause of her discord was not one she relished contemplating.
She’d spent weeks telling herself it was that blasted vase—and the risk its possession would cost her—that plagued her every night, but she’d only begun to lose sleep after meeting a very specific earl.
And she refused to speculate over his latest mood change.
Her eyelids lowered as if of their own accord and she imagined her and Cart’s embrace along the path at Hyde Park—his arms securely around her but still gentle enough to allow her escape if it was her wish.
Feminine laughter drifted down the hall and snapped Jude from her thoughts.
She had only a brief time to locate the canvas and remove it to her waiting carriage while Sam slipped in to take her place with the partygoers.
They’d convinced Lady Haversham to allow them to meet her at the dinner party instead of traveling together for the sole purpose of keeping the duchess far from their nefarious activities.
She was a smart, perceptive woman, who’d not tarry in alerting Jude and Sam’s sister to any transgressions on her watch.
Lady Haversham hadn’t found anything suspicious about Sam remaining home due to a dreadful headache.
They’d seen fit to ask Mr. Curtis to keep the carriage close if Jude found herself needing to leave early. If the elderly man noticed their late-night comings and goings and odd requests, he kept it to himself.
With one final look toward the partially open door to the drawing room, Jude walked leisurely back toward the formal dining room they’d departed.
She discovered it did not house what they sought.
No, the painted canvas would be kept in a far grander chamber where more guests could admire the artist’s mastery.
As it hadn’t been hung in the dining area, Jude’s next thought was the grand ballroom—a part of the house left unused for the small gathering being thrown that evening.
Jude knew the risk was great, but the ballroom’s double doors stood at the top of the grand staircase—the main stairs were the simplest path.
The foyer was deserted, all servants tasked with accommodating all attending guests in the salon and study; even the butler was hard at work away from his post by the front door.
This allowed Jude a moment to cast her gaze to the landing above—and the firmly closed double doors.
She hoped she wasn’t wrong in assuming the canvas could be found within, for Jude’s luck was running out quickly.
She need only climb the stairs, grab the painted canvas, and make it out the front door without being seen—far simpler than breaking into a house through an unbarred window and fleeing after being caught.
“Can I help ye, miss?” a quiet voice asked behind her, causing Jude to fairly jump out of her skin as she yelped with fright. “The ladies be in the drawing room.”
Jude straightened her back and pasted a thankful smile on her face before turning and facing a young servant—no older than Payton.
“Oh, heavens. This is quite the most embarrassing moment in my life.” Jude grasped the back of her gown, lowering her stare to the floor before the servant.
“I fear my dress has been torn. I am in no condition for polite conversation. I was hoping to locate the ladies’ retiring room to see if my gown could be mended. ”
The girl’s smile turned to a frown of concern. “The ladies’ room be down that hall.” She nodded in the direction Jude had come from—where the women’s talking could still be heard. “I jus’ go an’ collect me mending kit to fix ye right up.”
Jude felt a pang of remorse at misleading the girl. “That would be ever so kind of you.”
The servant’s smile returned and she headed toward the kitchens.
Her time was now significantly reduced. It would not take the girl long to journey to her sleeping quarters, collect her mending kit, and return before the girl found Sam waiting in the retiring room.
There was no way around it—Jude grabbed her skirt and lifted the material high, dashing up the stairs two at a time.
She gave credit to her sisters for her skill at climbing stairs quickly, for they’d raced up and down them at Craven House in their youth.
Hitting the first landing, she turned and hurried up the final flight, skidding to a halt outside the double doors she’d admired from below.
She glanced over her shoulder to the empty foyer below and whipped back around, grabbing the knob.
The door slid open on well-oiled hinges, revealing a massive room that fairly sparkled with all the gilded adornments on the chandeliers, wall fixtures, chairs, and other room decorations.
The room oozed wealth, privilege, and prestige—so much so, that Jude had a hard time drawing breath at the sight.
The marble floor was polished until it shone and she feared to slip when she set one slippered foot on it. The drapery was pulled back allowing the moonlight to invade the room, glistening off every surface, lending some visibility in the darkness.
It had escaped her mind to consider finding a candle to light her path into the room.
Thankfully, the space was empty except for chairs lining one wall and the artwork hanging with care in frames of varying sizes.
The paintings adorning the center of each wall were far larger than the one she sought, so she concentrated her search on the smaller, less gaudy pieces.
She also knew the artist had focused on the landscape—Jude passed two paintings featuring children and one of a large farm animal.
If Sam had sent her on another fool’s errand, Jude was going to be peeved.
Rounding the room to the third wall, a landscape came into view—rolling countryside with a cloudless, blue sky and an uneven rock formation cutting two fields in half.
It had to be the painting described in the post article several weeks back.
It was no larger than a silver serving tray and was housed in a narrow frame.
The piece did not appear old or special in any way—it could not be any older than Jude herself. Odd that it was so very valuable.
Taking hold of the painting with both hands, Jude lifted it from the peg it hung on and admired the item up close.
Certainly, the area and view captured by the artist was breathtaking, but the actual brushstrokes appeared hurried and disjointed; the exact shape and texture of the rock wall were not fully recognized or portrayed.
Jude would ask Cart his opinion of the piece—if he ever contacted her about the vase. She had half a mind to call on him unannounced, as inappropriate as that may be, but time was running slim. Regardless of what she and her sister did with the painting, it would have to be done quickly.
For now, she only need remove the painting from this house without having the alarm sounded on her—again.
There would be plenty of time to think about Cart and his peculiar behavior when she was out of the duke’s townhouse, and she and Sam were safely at home.
Jude tucked the landscape under her arm as she walked from the ballroom and pulled the doors closed behind her without a single noise.
She tiptoed to the edge of the landing and peeked over to see if the maid had returned and was looking for her to mend the supposedly torn gown, but the lower floor was empty, to Jude’s great pleasure.
She descended the stairs with more caution than when she’d climbed them a few moments before, for fear of dropping the artwork.
The front door was only steps away—if she could make the last length without being caught, her night would be a success.
Her breathing increased with the anticipation of freedom, especially knowing the painting would not be missed until a servant entered the ballroom—highly unlikely that night.
Pulling the door only wide enough for her and the painting to slip through, Jude closed the heavy front door and surveyed the rounded drive before her.
A moment of panic set in when she didn’t immediately spot Mr. Curtis and their closed carriage.
She craned her neck to see around the line of other coaches but also kept herself hidden in the shadows outside the townhouse.
With great relief, Jude spied Mr. Curtis slumped in the driver’s box of their dated carriage. With any luck, the older man would be sound asleep and would not notice Jude slipping the painting into the boot of their carriage for safe passage back to Craven House.
The shadows bordering the drive kept her unrecognizable as she moved past carriage after carriage on her way to the only conveyance without a proper ancestral crest. Jude crept to the back of the Craven House carriage, tilted open the boot, and slid the painting to safety.
“Curse you Samantha for being the pretty, social sister,” she muttered.
It wasn’t Sam’s fault she’d acquired the personable demeanor while Jude had inherited other useful qualities, including her ability to blend in and go unseen in the most crowded of rooms. But for once, she’d enjoy not being the one risking her neck with their schemes.
However, Jude knew her skills did not include captivating an audience or distracting partygoers enough to not notice her change of voice when Sam took her place.
Jude slipped into her darkened coach and awaited Sam’s return. They’d be on their way shortly…without anyone the wiser.