Alice knew she was lying to herself. Her interest in sharing a house, a bed, with Molly had nothing to do with economy. Seeing Molly had become the high point of Alice’s day. Molly’s casual profanity, Molly’s swaggering walk, Molly’s crooked smile—all those were somehow the precise shape of some emptiness in Alice’s heart. What had happened last night in bed was only part of it—a crucial part, without a doubt—but only a part.
She dragged her thoughts back to the present. Scanning the room, she found the gentleman’s toilette case sitting on the dressing table. In her pocket were embroidery needles of a few different sizes; it was the one suited for lacework that fit into the miniature keyhole. Still imagining that she was picking the pantry lock, she put her ear to the case and adjusted the needle until she felt the inner workings fall into place.
And then there it was, the lock was open. When she eased back the lid, the contents of the box gleamed in the faint light. There were a few golden guineas, an array of shirt studs, and an old-fashioned watch fob, but amidst all that sparkle and shine, she saw no cravat pin. He must be wearing it. She hadn’t thought he’d be so vulgar as to wear such a bauble during the day, but perhaps men who exposed themselves to unwilling women weren’t to be relied on as models of gentlemanly propriety.
She could take the shirt studs, but they were nothing compared to the diamond. She wasn’t going to commit a felony for twenty pounds’ worth of brass.
Resigned, she closed the lid and once again used the needle, this time to lock the box again.
No sooner had she silently dropped the needle back into her pocket when she heard the sound of a door opening. She spun on her heel, only to find Mr. Tenpenny standing in the doorway.
“What do we have here?” His voice was every bit as greasy and insinuating as it had been the day she had met him. “I daresay Mrs. Wraxhall will be charmed to know her protégée has been lying in wait in a gentleman’s bedchambers. This sort of gossip is just the sort of thing to liven up a house party.”
Alice’s mouth went dry with dread and unchecked fear. But then she saw the sparkle of the diamond cravat pin below Mr. Tenpenny’s chin.
The world suddenly divided into things that mattered and things that did not. On the former list was stolen jewels and Molly Wilkins. On the latter list was whatever claptrap Mr. Tenpenny chose to spread about.
He couldn’t harm her any more than he already had, so he was free to run his mouth as much as he pleased, as far as she cared.
But how to get that pin? She tried to imagine what Molly would do in her shoes. And when the idea finally clicked in her mind, she could hardly stop from laughing.
“Oh, how embarrassing,” she said, consciously adopting the contrite tone she always used to placate her father. “But I hardly knew how else to approach you.”
“To approach me,” Mr. Tenpenny repeated with a look of lecherous triumph.
“I was so glad when I learned that you were to be a guest at Eastgate Hall.” She cast her eyes down, focusing all her attention on a swirl in the plush carpet beneath her feet rather than on the man standing before her. “So very glad.” She cast a shy look at his face, then back at the carpet. “I felt so very silly after what happened at my father’s house this summer, and I wanted a chance to tell you so myself.” Now she looked up again, and deliberately, slowly smoothed the bodice of her gown.
Because when she had asked herself what Molly would do in this situation, the answer had been as clear as if Molly were here to whisper it laughingly in her ear: she would play the coquette and use Tenpenny’s pride and weakness against him.
“Is that so?” Mr. Tenpenny took a step closer, and Alice willed herself not to step away. If all else failed, she had that needle in her pocket and wouldn’t hesitate to use it.
Alice, one hand firmly gripping that needle, reached up and stroked the lapel of Mr. Tenpenny’s coat.
“A minx, aren’t you? I knew it. All that coyness the last time was just meant to pique my interest, I daresay.”
Alice felt very bad for the ladies who had looked forward to seducing Mr. Tenpenny if the man could not tell a woman’s shriek of horror from flirtatious coyness. She made a noncommittal murmur and slid her hand to the knot of his cravat. Then, just as he bent his head, presumably to kiss her with that loathsome mouth, she plucked the pin out of his cravat.
For a moment she thought of running. She could, she supposed. Would Horace Tenpenny admit to having been robbed by an insignificant spinster? He might rather lose his diamond than become a laughingstock.
There was another way, though. A smile spread across her face when she realized it.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Mr. Tenpenny asked, only just now comprehending what had happened.
“You owe me this.” Her voice had all the conviction her father’s had always held from the pulpit. It was because she was speaking the truth. He did owe her this.
“You compromised me. You ruined my reputation. If my father were another sort of man altogether, he would have demanded that you marry me. He would have written to that wealthy aunt of yours and we would have been married by Michaelmas.” Thank God he hadn’t. At the time, Alice might have even been grateful for the match, relieved not to have been abandoned by her family.
Mr. Tenpenny made a reach for the cravat pin, but Alice took a step back.
“No, no. You’re going to listen to me. You wriggled out of a terrible marriage that day. Imagine, a man like you, saddled with a penniless wife like me. The only reason you escaped was that my father is as much of a villain as you are. But he isn’t here today. It’s just me, and I have nothing to lose. All I have to do is open my mouth and scream.”
“I’ll tell everyone you were in my room waiting for me,” he scoffed. “Nobody would think I would seduce such a one as you.”
“Half this house party thinks I’m an heiress. A very boring heiress, hardly the type to seduce anybody. However, they’d quite think you capable of seducing me to force a marriage, I think. Mrs. Wraxhall has some influence. She’d demand that you marry me and wouldn’t hesitate going to your aunt and uncle to insist that you cooperate. And, Mr. Tenpenny, I don’t think you can afford to do without your aunt’s money any more than you can afford to marry a penniless wife.”
His face was a very satisfying shade of purple. “This is extortion.”
Alice considered this. “Or blackmail. I can never remember which is which. Whatever the case, you’ll let me have your cravat pin as a payment for letting you escape from a very improvident marriage.” She could almost hear the gears of his sad little mind turning as he considered her offer.
