3. Chapter 3
That afternoon, Andrew sat behind his big maple desk, dictating replies to various correspondence to his secretary, Mr. Holmes.
Andrew diligently took care of estate business each day at one o’clock.
Even after his wife’s death, when he spent his nights drowning his regrets in liquor, he had still always spent his afternoons with Holmes, paying attention to the hundreds of details involved in running the dukedom.
His father had left him with numerous mortgaged properties and declining estates.
The old man had let things run themselves with very little oversight.
Andrew had spent the last five years since his father’s passing investing back into the properties, paying off debts, and making revenue-generating changes.
He was damn proud of what he had been able to accomplish.
“Will that be all, Your Grace?” Holmes asked as he tucked his spectacles into his front breast pocket.
“Actually, one more thing. Holmes, what do you know about a Miss Whittingham? Who is her father?”
“Hmm. Whittingham. I believe that was the surname for Viscount Newton, deceased a few years back. Well-known for his bad luck at the tables and his love of drink. I don’t know anything about the family.”
Sitting back in his chair, Andrew considered the information. “Find out what you can about the family, specifically about an uncle—I don’t know his name. Discreetly please. And get me their address.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
“And will you send in Mr. Rhodes, please?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
He twisted in his chair to stare out into the back garden.
What was he going to do about his mystery intruder last night?
When he woke up this morning, he almost believed he’d dreamt the incident.
He hadn’t called for the constable simply because it all sounded fantastical.
A woman sneaking into his room in the middle of the night.
He could only imagine the chuckles that statement would receive.
“Your Grace, how can I be of help?” Mr. Rhodes entered the room.
“Ah, yes. I have heard disconcerting rumors at the club of an increase in thefts in and around Mayfair,” Andrew improvised.
“I would like you to assign a couple of the footmen to be on guard at night around the grounds and perimeter of the house. We can’t be too safe with the family back in residence. ”
“Yes, sir. I will take care of it immediately.”
“No need to alarm the household. I am just taking precautions.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Mr. Rhodes closed the door behind him as he left.
Andrew turned back to his desk with the intent of reading through a lengthy letter from his land steward at Stoneleigh.
But his thoughts continued to return to a pair of brandy-colored eyes filled with humor.
He glanced over at the blue reticule sitting on the far corner of his desk.
Curiosity got the better of him, and reaching for it, he popped the little purse open.
Inside were a few coins, a handkerchief, and a pair of well-worn gloves.
Feeling disappointed there were no clues to help him learn more about Miss Whittingham, he closed the little bag.
As he was about to stuff it in his drawer, something sharp dug into his palm.
Opening it back up, he dumped out the contents, and feeling around inside, he again felt the sharp object.
He spied a small pocket sewn into the lining of the purse and reached in with two fingers, pulling out a ring with a ruby of enormous proportions.
The ruby was a marquise cut and set high on a gold band encrusted with small diamonds.
She certainly would miss a ring of this value.
He took another look at the beautiful ring.
The ruby flashed like fire in the sunlight.
Andrew shook his head at the size of the jewel.
He couldn’t imagine why she would be carrying around such a ring; it seemed too ostentatious for a young woman her age.
He returned it to the purse and closed the clasp carefully.
Once he had her address, he would go around and return the reticule to her.
“Emma, my girl, how is my favorite niece?”
Emma let out a soft sigh and set down her quill on the desk. The household budget would have to wait. It had been a difficult couple of days. The last person she felt like dealing with was Charles Whittingham. She pasted a smile on her face and greeted her uncle.
“Uncle Charles, how good to see you.”
He looked, as always, impeccably put together.
His tall, thin frame was elegantly clothed in black breeches and a jacket the color of dark eggplant.
The cravat at his throat, a crisp white, was in sharp contrast to his black waistcoat.
A bright gold watch and fob glittered against the black backdrop.
He had a long face with a prominent nose and dark-winged eyebrows.
With a dramatic bow, he doffed his beaver hat.
“Won’t you sit down? Can I offer you tea?” she said.
“No thank you, darling. I will just collect what you have for me and be on my way.”
Her uncle handled the selling of any pieces Emma acquired in order to protect her identity. Charles had a fence to which he sold all her items, a man he had worked with for many years.
“Are you sure? It’s no trouble, and I’m sure the children would like to see you. I can call them to join us.”
“I have several appointments this morning. I am in town with my dear Lady Worchester, and she has plans for us to have lunch and do some shopping.” Charles moved his walking stick back and forth between his hands, a sign she recognized as impatience.
The lion’s head that sat atop the cane reminded her of the first time she had seen Charles when he arrived for the reading of the will.
When Emma’s father died, she had been not quite twenty.
She hadn’t even known her father had another brother.
The two men had not spoken in twenty-five years.
During the reading, it had become depressingly obvious to both of them that there was nothing of value to inherit beyond the title itself.
Emma had been dumbstruck at the sheer amount of money her father owed.
He had gambled away her and Lucy’s dowries, the house in town was mortgaged, and he had accrued a mountain of personal debts.
By contrast, Charles had not seemed surprised at the state of affairs.
The expression on his face told her he was not happy becoming guardian to six new relations.
He had pulled aside the solicitor, and a hushed but heated discussion ensued for several minutes.
Then, with his face like a thundercloud, he made to leave, grabbing his walking stick.
As he passed her chair, Emma reached out desperately for his hand, and looking up at him with her tearstained face, she had just clung to him, this stranger.
She’d needed someone, anyone, to help her understand this mess.
Charles had stayed with them for almost a year.
He had been the only person willing to speak to her as an adult and lay out the truth of their circumstances.
He was honest with her about himself and his own precarious financial situation.
Emma struggled to flesh out her options for supporting her siblings.
In the end, Charles taught her what he knew best—how to be a thief.
Charles had once been one of the very best thieves in both England and the continent.
He taught Emma everything she knew about burglary.
But larceny was a young man’s game. Now that he was older, he had found an alternative occupation as a cicisbeo.
His current mark was a twice-widowed lady whose wealthy husbands had left her very rich and very lonely.
Charles explained to Emma he rather liked being a kept man of leisure, his only duties to see to the pleasure of his current amour.
Emma would forever be grateful to him for helping her to find a way to support her family, but Charles could be such a trial sometimes.
His flair for the dramatic was legendary, and even though she knew he had grown to love them all, he couldn’t be counted on in a pinch.
He moved around often, always on to the next place, the next amour.
“I haven’t the items I said I would have.” Emma slumped into a wingback chair by the fireplace. “It’s been a bad week.”
“What’s happened?” Charles wandered to the fireplace, leaning one elbow against the marble mantel.
“I stole a beautiful ruby ring, and somehow I have misplaced the reticule in which it was kept. I have torn apart the house but cannot find it anywhere. Even worse, two nights ago, I attempted a job at a house I thought was empty but instead was caught red-handed.”
“What! How did you escape?”
Emma explained the events at the ducal mansion to him.
“Good girl, the element of surprise is always your best friend. Do you think he would be able to identify you?”
“No. It was dark, and I had my face covered in soot. I ran into him yesterday in the park with the boys, quite by accident. There was not even a flicker of recognition.”
“Well, that’s something anyway. If you are caught stealing from a peer, you would surely hang. As much as I admire your initiative, you should not hit such a high-profile target. It’s too dangerous!”
The reprimand stung her pride. “I thought they were all still in the country. The house had been dark for weeks. Uncle, if you only could have seen this necklace. It is so beautiful. A festoon necklace of rubies arranged to create a red river of gleaming flowers. I was dazzled by it. I just had to try and grab it.” Emma pinched the bridge of her nose.
That necklace could have paid off the remainder of their mortgage of which she had been so fastidiously chipping away.
And even though she knew she would never own a necklace such as that, she might have worn it for a bit around her bedroom just to feel its glory lying around her throat.
“Your failure to have any pieces for me today is a disappointment.” His frown deepened, making Emma squirm in her seat.
“Fortunately, I do have another lead for you. I was playing cards with a Mr. and Mrs. Hopwood at a party the other night. They are in town spending all their lovely coal mining money. Mrs. Hopwood was wearing the most divine bracelet. A mixture of diamonds and black onyx. She and Mr. Hopwood are staying in apartments at the Royal Arms Hotel until next week, when they’ll return north.
It would be an easy job, and while not as lucrative as the duchess’ necklace, it would bring in a good price. ”
He came over, patted Emma’s shoulder, and gave her a brief kiss on the cheek. “Send around a note when you have something for me.” Placing his hat on his head, he saluted her with the top of his walking stick and left.
Emma leaned back in her chair. She supposed it would make for an easy job.
She had been in and out of the Royal Arms Hotel many times.
It was a busy hotel; no one would notice an extra maid bustling about.
Feeling a bit better at the prospect of a new challenge, she went to find out what mischief her brothers and sisters were up to. The house was entirely too quiet.