“I certainly hope we will not be troubled by those dreadful thieves,” her father added. “I asked Sabrina to wear her simplest jewelry, but she paid me no heed.”
“Father, no self-respecting thief would look twice at these pearls. They’re as plain as plain can be.”
He flapped his handkerchief with agitation. “There is no such thing as a self-respecting thief, Sabrina. Goodness, me.”
“It’s a figure of speech, dearest. Of course, I’m dreadfully concerned, too.”
Especially since her lamentable conduct at the Peregrims’ ball had been responsible for allowing at least one of the thieves to escape.
“Bow Street will provide ample protection, Lord Musgrave,” Sir Dominic said. “You have nothing to fear.”
A subtle note in the magistrate’s voice prompted Sabrina to turn and catch his eye. She’d always found Sir Dominic’s craggy, impassive features difficult to read. Now, he met her perusal with a bland smile.
“Oh, look. The orchestra is coming out to start the performance,” said Lady Hunter.
“How splendid,” Sir Dominic said dryly.
“My love, do try to have fun, for once,” his wife said with mock exasperation.
He flashed a wicked grin. “As you know, I frequently have fun, my dear. I just prefer to do it at home.”
When her ladyship’s cheeks turned pink, Sabrina turned to the front, stifling a grin. While not in the first blush of youth, the Hunters were devoted to each other, and didn’t hide it. That sort of devotion made her feel . . . wistful.
“I agree, Sir Dominic,” Father said. “A quiet evening at home is more pleasant than anything.”
“Indeed it is,” the magistrate replied.
Fortunately, the mildly risqué riposte sailed over her father’s head.
After the anthem to the king, the performance began with a classical recitation set to music. While Sabrina’s father clearly enjoyed it, she found it as dull as reading sermons on a rainy afternoon in January.
“Dominic, would you change seats with Lady Sabrina, so I can chat with her?” Lady Hunter quietly asked.
Thank God.
Sabrina all but jumped to her feet. “You’ll get a much better view of the stage from here, Sir Dominic.”
“This bit is quite good,” said her father. “You won’t wish to miss it, my dear sir.”
Sir Dominic rolled his eyes, forcing Sabrina to stifle a giggle.
“How did you know I was bored?” she whispered to Lady Hunter.
“I had to pick all the most boring pieces in the company’s repertoire, so as to avoid scandalous chitchat.” Lady Hunter flashed a wry smile. “Vivien and I expended considerable energy convincing the company manager to clothe the dancers in, shall we say, slightly more decorous styles.”
The dancers were incredibly popular at establishments like the Pan, since they were invariably young, pretty, and scantily clad.
“What a disappointment for the men,” Sabrina joked.
Lady Hunter winked. “True. It’s a good thing the wives make the donations.”
Her ladyship possessed a down-to-earth quality that was unusual in the ton. Sabrina found it enormously appealing.
“I’m so glad you asked us tonight,” she impulsively said. “I’m not sure why you did, but please accept my thanks.”
“Vivien suggested it. After hearing about your assorted adventures, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to get to know you better.”
Sabrina winced. “Oh, yes, you’re Vivien’s aunt. I suppose she told you about . . .”
“She told me what I needed to know.” Lady Hunter glanced at Sabrina’s father. “And I will keep those adventures private, be assured. Well done with Cringlewood, by the way. I cheered when Vivien told me what you did.”
“Is . . . is that matter being dealt with?” Sabrina murmured.
“He has already departed London, with a stern warning from both Aden and my husband that he will be carefully watched. The marquess will not bother you or any other woman again.”
Sabrina frowned. “But how—”
“My husband will see to it,” her ladyship firmly replied.
Looking at Sir Dominic’s stern profile, Sabrina believed it.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome. And please don’t waste another thought on that horrid man. He will get his comeuppance soon enough.”
It was clear from her ladyship’s tone that the subject was closed, and that more than suited Sabrina.
“Where is Lady Vivien this evening? I thought she would be here.”
Lady Hunter inclined her head toward the other side of the theater. “Vivien has family visiting. She’s sitting with her mamma and her younger brother, Kit.”
“Oh, and I suppose the captain is also . . .”
Sabrina trailed off when she saw exactly who was sitting with Vivien and her family, and it wasn’t Aden St. George. It was Graeme Kendrick, and he was staring straight at her with a disconcerting intensity.
She ignored the sudden, mad thumping of her heart and gave him a friendly smile. After all, theaters were so brightly lit that one couldn’t pretend not to notice when someone stared. Still, it was hard to read his expression. She’d never met anyone who could adopt a stoneface better than Graeme Kendrick.
But when Graeme smiled at her, it was like enjoying the blaze of a bonfire when chilled to the bone.
Sadly, he wasn’t smiling now.
Just when her smile was beginning to feel permanently fixed to her face, Graeme finally gave her a brusque nod. He then rose from his chair and slipped from the box.
Lady Hunter leaned close. “Don’t worry. Graeme will get over it.”
Sabrina waggled a hand. “I can’t blame him for being annoyed. But it’s not as if I knew about his role in catching the—”
Her ladyship held up a warning finger.
“Sorry,” Sabrina whispered. “It’s just that I’d like to apologize to him for making a mess of things.”
“No apology necessary, although I’m sure Graeme would be delighted to speak to you again.”
Sabrina doubted that. Still, if she did see him again, she would apologize, no matter how mortifying the experience might prove to be.
“Is Mr. Kendrick here tonight because of the . . .” She tapped one of her earrings. “You know.”
“You’re not to worry,” Lady Hunter firmly said. “Please just relax and enjoy the show.”
Discussion closed, again.
But Sabrina felt too scattered to concentrate on the musical interludes and the entirely absurd adaptation of Spenser’s The Faerie Queene. When the interval came, she was grateful to stand and shake the fidgets from her arms.
“Would you like to go down to the saloon for a refreshment?” she asked her father.
He gave a little moue of distaste. “It’s sure to be an awful crush, my love, and think of the risk of infection from such riffraff. We should remain in the box.”
Sabrina pressed a gloved hand to the base of her skull, where a headache began to niggle. She desperately needed to stretch her legs and find something cold to drink.
“There are no riffraff tonight,” Lady Hunter said, “and we have excellent champagne and lovely ices, as well.”
Father wavered for a few moments, obviously not wishing to be rude, before shaking his head. “Thank you, ma’am, but Sabrina and I will remain in the box. Perhaps you might have a waiter bring us each a glass of ratafia.”
Argh. Sabrina hated ratafia.
Sir Dominic winked at her. “I find myself equally loath to mingle with the crowd, Lord Musgrave, no matter how distinguished. The ladies should go to the saloon, while the men stay here and have a comfortable chat.”
“Are you sure it’s perfectly safe for the ladies?” Father anxiously asked.
“My word of honor. Besides, I’ve been meaning to quiz you about your renowned coin collection. I’m thinking of starting one, and who better to ask for advice than L
ord Musgrave?”
Sabrina’s father brightened. “I should be delighted to give you the benefit of my knowledge, dear sir. Mind, it’s quite a complicated subject, so we will barely be able to touch on it.”
“I’m ready to learn at the feet of the master,” Sir Dominic replied with an entirely straight face.
“Do you have any experience with collecting?”
“None at all, I’m afraid.”
“That will never do,” Father sternly replied. “You must have a focus, or you will simply flounder.”
While her father commenced peppering Sir Dominic with questions, Sabrina followed Lady Hunter into the hall behind the private boxes.
“Your husband is a prince among men,” Sabrina said.
Lady Hunter laughed. “In more ways than you know.”
They joined the line of chattering theatergoers heading down to the saloon.
“Well, thank you again for asking us. I know Father can be a bit of a trial. His health is indifferent, and that makes him fretful.”
“The honor is ours. As I mentioned, Vivien has a great deal of respect for you, as does Graeme.”
Sabrina wrinkled her nose. “I suspect Mr. Kendrick finds me a nuisance.”
“I doubt that.”
“He was quite annoyed when last I saw him.”
“As I mentioned, he’ll get over it.”
Sabrina didn’t understand why she hoped that he did quite so much. They weren’t likely to see very much of each other. She lived a lovely but conventional life within the confines of Mayfair, while he obviously lived another kind of life entirely.
“I take it that Mr. Kendrick’s family rarely travels to London,” she commented as she and Lady Hunter slowly followed a pair of bombazine-clad matrons down the stairs.
“Lord and Lady Arnprior prefer to spend most of their time at Castle Kinglas or at their mansion in Glasgow.”
“A castle in Scotland sounds so romantic,” Sabrina wistfully replied. “I would love to visit someday.”
“Then you should certainly make the trip. The Kendricks would love to meet you, I have no doubt.”
Sabrina mentally blinked. “But I don’t even know them.”
“You know Graeme, and Aden is Lady Arnprior’s brother. The Kendricks would be delighted to have you visit with them.”
It seemed an odd thing to say, but perhaps Lady Hunter was simply being polite. “My father rarely travels outside London anymore, and then only to our estate near Oxford.”
“You never go north to Bellwood Manor?”
“Father now finds the journey too taxing, unfortunately.”
She loved the old northern manor, and perhaps someday she would travel there by herself, despite her father’s objections.
“Your mother’s family is from Scotland, I believe?” Lady Hunter said.
“Yes, she was a member of Clan Chattan. She left our family a small estate just south of Inverness. I hope to see that someday, too.”
Her ladyship cast Sabrina a thoughtful glance. “We must see what we can do about that. You would love Scotland, I’m sure of it.”
Sabrina was spared a reply by the bustle in the saloon, especially around the refreshments table, where liveried footmen handed out beverages and ices. An acquaintance snagged Lady Hunter, so Sabrina squeezed by a portly old gentleman to snag a glass of champagne. Two friends across the room waved for her to join them, but she wasn’t in the mood for chitchat. She preferred to amuse herself by watching the crowd.
Silly, you’re looking for him.
But she wasn’t seeing him, which was annoying.
Lady Hunter joined her with a glass of punch. “I’m absolutely parched, and Lady Purcell always rattles me. I’m terribly bad at socializing.”
“Oh, Lady Purcell can be a bit of a trial. She never stops talking about her various ailments, especially her bunions. She and my father are fast friends.”
Lady Hunter laughed. “Thankfully, she’s making a generous donation to my charity, so I’m grateful for that.”
Sabrina was about to reply when she spotted Graeme. He slipped quietly into the room, attracting little attention. It was quite the feat given his impressive size and the shock of gorgeous red hair her fingers simply itched to stroke.
As she watched him, it seemed as if no one but her did notice him. His actions weren’t exactly furtive, but . . .
“What is he doing?” she muttered.
Lady Hunter glanced across the room. “Ah, I wondered when Graeme would appear.”
“He’s acting quite mysteriously.”
Her ladyship lowered her voice. “It’s his job to act mysteriously, as you know. I was surprised to hear that he confided in you.”
“He didn’t. I guessed it.”
Lady Hunter’s delicate eyebrows shot up. “You did?”
“He tried to deny it at first.”
“One tends not to advertise such things.”
“I won’t say a word, I promise,” Sabrina earnestly replied.
“I’m sure Graeme trusts you. He would have refused to admit to anything if he didn’t.”
“Do you think he’s, um, working tonight?”
“Just as a precaution. There is no need to worry.”
Sabrina’s gaze once more returned to the handsome Scot, who was discretely but thoroughly patrolling the saloon. She marveled at how he managed to do it without drawing any attention.
“I never see him at social events,” she said.
“Aden keeps him busy.”
“That’s quite a shame.” Sabrina grimaced, mortified by the admission. “What I mean, is—”
Lady Hunter smiled. “Graeme is handsome and very charming when he’s not being so serious. He should socialize more, especially with a lovely young woman such as yourself.”
“Oh, I don’t think—”
Vivien St. George suddenly appeared out of the crowd. “Ah, there you are. It’s such a mad crush, isn’t it?” She gave Sabrina a quick, verbena-scented hug. “You look splendid, dearest. Quite the prettiest girl here.”
Sabrina smiled. “No, that would be you.”
Vivien scoffed. “Flatterer. Would you mind if I stole Chloe for a moment? We have a minor crisis with the program that simply must be sorted before the interval ends.”
Lady Hunter frowned. “I don’t wish to leave Sabrina alone. Lord Musgrave would never forgive me.”
“I’ll be fine,” Sabrina quickly said. “Several of my friends are right over there. I can go up with them.”
Lady Hunter looked doubtful but acquiesced. “Go right back to the box, all right?”
“I promise.”
“Chloe, disaster looms,” prompted Vivien.
Lady Hunter allowed herself to be hurried off.
Sabrina watched them go before switching her attention to a broad set of Scottish shoulders disappearing up the staircase to a group of private boxes.
Discarding her glass on a sideboard and ignoring the determined waves of her friends, she slipped across the room.
* * *
The thieves would undoubtedly find tonight’s gala too alluring a target to ignore.
Graeme checked the hallway behind the private boxes, his senses tuned for anything out of the ordinary. Guards were posted backstage, theater staff had been alerted, and Runners patrolled the premises. Finally, they had a real chance to bring the criminal ring tumbling to the ground.
He couldn’t afford to fail again. If he did, Aden would be forced to pull additional agents off other, more vital missions. To Graeme’s way of thinking, that would count as nothing less than abject failure.
He was bloody well tired of failing.
Graeme was also bloody well tired of the distraction posed by Lady Sabrina Bell. He had been hoping she wouldn’t be here tonight, but then he’d seen her with the Hunters. She looked like a damn angel in a sunny dress that rippled like a river of silk, highlighting every beautiful curve of her body. A crown of bright, golden curls topped her
head. Her smile was even brighter, a beam of sunshine that bathed him in unfamiliar warmth.
But she’s not for you, laddie boy.
Besides, she was a royal pain in the arse, with a disapproving ninny for a father, who obviously thought Graeme not good enough for his daughter.
Spotting a door to one of the boxes that was half-open, he interrupted a gossip between two elderly ladies dripping with diamonds and pearls.
The perfect mark.
“Young man, is there something you want?” one of the women frostily asked.
Graeme adopted his bumbling routine. “Oh, I say, I have the wrong box. Sorry to bother, dear ladies.”
“Impertinent fellow,” huffed the other woman as he backed out.
He firmly closed the door, then continued along the hall, hoping to check all the boxes before the patrons returned. Aden and his men were handling the pit and galleries, and Sir Dominic was no doubt directing his hawk-like gaze over all the proceedings from his well-placed box.
As loath as Graeme was to encounter Lord Musgrave again, he needed to check in with Sir Dominic. The thieves were most likely to strike after the interval, when most of the audience would be tipsy if not downright cup-shot.
A quick patter of feet sounded behind him. “Mr. Kendrick, please wait.”
Well, that’s just damn splendid.
Reluctantly, he turned to find Sabrina poised at the top of the staircase. Her cheeks were flushed and her breasts were . . . yes, the word was heaving. Lovely breasts they were, too—a creamy swell over the frilly lace of her trim bodice. Despite his massive irritation, Graeme felt something else threaten to grow massive, and he had an instant, insane urge to pull the lass into one of the empty boxes, take her down to the carpeted floor, and rip that frilly bodice right down.
You’re a ninny.
“Lady Sabrina, you should not be wandering about—”
“But I wanted to—”
She was interrupted by a man’s appearance at the top of the stairs, behind her. When she squeaked and almost jumped out of her shoes, Graeme cursed and started forward.
“I wouldn’t, mate,” the man said. “I’ve got a nice little popper on her.”
Graeme froze, his gut congealing with fear.
Her captor was tall, with a hard, confident gaze, and was dressed in elegant evening clothes. One could easily take him for a banker or a wealthy merchant and not give him a second thought.
The Highlander's English Bride Page 9