Iemergedfromthecloset that served as a changing room and found William seated in the library anteroom. This was madness. He had the easy job of it, tearing open a crate and switching the sculptures. I was the one who had to carry on a convincing act before strangers. Could I manage it? I thinned my lips in determination and gave him a single nod. I’d do my best.
Then I went to the gentleman who had shown me to the room. “I have left my hamper in the closet, so I might change again later. Will it be safe, or ought I to move it?”
“Perfectly safe, Miss Trenton. You are the only lady here today, so the room will remain undisturbed. I will lock the door for you, however, to be certain that your belongings are not troubled.”
“Oh! I am sure there is no need for that,” I protested, sending William a swift glance.
“It is a precaution I am happy to offer. I cannot guard the door, and I will not see a lady forced to ride home wearing a gown covered in clay, in case her belongings are disturbed.”
“Oh, but surely, no one would—”
“I can retrieve the hamper and keep it with me,” William offered.
The man and I both looked over at him. “I would not wish to trouble you, sir,” he said.
“It is no trouble. I mean only to recline here with a book while Miss Trenton exhibits her skill. What if she completes her task before you are available to unlock the door to the changing room for her?”
I closed my eyes and murmured a silent prayer. If the man insisted on locking the door, we would have to think of something else. How to convince him without looking suspicious?
He looked thoughtful and then bowed. “Very well. I would not wish to inconvenience a lady.”
My sigh of relief was audible. All this tomfoolery was beyond me, and I made a terrible thief. It was a good thing we only had to steal one thing. “Thank you.”
“This way, Miss Trenton,” the man offered.
I sent William one more half-panicked glance, mouthed “good luck,” and followed my guide.
Darcy
Thefirstquestionwashow long I should wait.
I could not very well go skulking about, dressed like I lived in Grosvenor Square and carrying a hamper under my arm like a servant without attracting some attention. And Somerset House was not precisely empty. I had counted at least twenty Antiquities students passing through the library to one of the lecture halls. But when the door closed, and I heard the instructor commence speaking, I decided there would be almost no one on the stairs for the next hour, at least. I took up the hamper and proceeded to the staircase with all the stately grace I could muster.
Somerset House was six floors, gutted straight through with that magnificent spiraling staircase. At the uppermost floor was the Grand Hall, where the choicest paintings would line the walls from floor to glass ceiling in the early summer. Visitors counted the breathtaking architecture—the beautiful staircase and the expansive hall—to be part of the experience.
But the place I needed to go was somewhat humbler—down one floor and almost directly under the room Elizabeth occupied right now. These rooms were not open to the public. Rather, they were used by the housekeeper for her residence and storage. And for tools.
Rather convenient.
I glanced around, turning my head slowly so no one might think that I was actually looking for anything. Men of my station were expected merely to survey, not to search for anything in particular. The ceilings on most floors were lavishly adorned with intricate plaster designs, but this floor was painfully sparse by comparison. There was little for me to pretend to admire, in case anyone should think to wonder what I was about.
But fortunately, we had come at a rather quiet time of day. Most of the Academy’s students were in class, and the housekeeper ought to be in the kitchens about now. It was child’s play to pick the lock—I would probably suffer some moments of disquiet in my conscience later about that.
I was not proud of the things I had learned from George Wickham in my youth, but this once, at least, I found that knowledge useful. Shades of gray had plagued this entire debacle, but one thing I was sure of—Elizabeth was innocent, and whatever cause she championed had to be right. So I would helpher;not for myself or anyone else. But the beauty was that in helping her, everyone would be served fairly—even if a few laws were technically broken. I just had to carry out my task as quickly as possible, so I didn’t have time to doubt myself.
I closed the door and moved swiftly through the rooms until I reached the one where I had discovered the crate. And miracles must be real, because it was still there, undisturbed. A few minutes more, and I found a bar with which to pry the nails from the wood. This part I undertook with patient care, for not only was I keenly interested in remaining quiet, but I also meant to nail the top back on the crate when I was done. I dared not damage it.
It seemed stupidly easy. The nails slipped from the oak almost soundlessly, and when I pawed through the thick nest of straw, I found the sculpture.
It was just as Elizabeth had described to me—Eros seducing Psyche, his wingtips wrought in glorious feathery detail, and the agony and passion in their faces almost flesh-like in their faithfulness. Seconds mattered, but I could not help taking a few of them simply to admire the masterpiece I was stealing from the Prince. Truly, it was evocative and magnificently wrought, no matter its true heritage. I would have delighted in owning it myself.
But I liked my neck still better.
I opened the hamper, thinking only to pull out the Athena marble that George Wickham had managed to pillage from Lady Catherine… but it was carefully swathed in Elizabeth’s gown. I hadn’t considered that having donned the work dress from the hamper, she would re-wrap the statue in her own… her own…
This… ah, this could take me a moment.
A gentle hint of lavender bathed the gown’s presence and sank into my senses.Angels in heaven.Surely, Athena did not smell that good. For an instant, no longer, I lifted the lacework of her bodice to my face. Indeed, this was something that would require further investigation. Perhaps later, once she was wearing that gown again. And I could ask her some questions that had nothing to do with art and everything to do withherbeing a masterpiece.
