What awful times those had been. The circumstance had only been got over when the duchess realized it was she, herself, who had the most refined sense of what nobility really was and began pronouncing things noble or ignoble. The Marchioness of Bath being the first to be named lacking in all noble qualities.
What was to be the way out ofthisterrible circumstance, though?
*
Harry had beenslowly walking in the vicinity of 32 Ludgate Hill for hours. His reason for being in this neighborhood, if he were asked for one, was there being a tailor at number 38. Therewasa tailor there, just not his own.
He’d made some guesses on what time of day the duchess would choose to retrieve her jaw-dropping and no doubt noble emerald tiara. It would not be very early—a lady like that no doubt slept in and breakfasted leisurely. It would not be too late, as the Remblys’ ball was this evening and he assumed a lady had much preparation in dress and probably liked to rest ahead of time too.
He’d chosen the early afternoon.
Of course, that still encompassed more than a few hours. He’d arrived just after one and now it was closing in on three.
He’d paid a shopkeeper’s boy to take his horse, water it, and find some shade. There was no point in them both expiring in the heat.
Harry began to wonder if all he’d come away with for his efforts was an intimate understanding of this part of Ludgate Hill. He’d been watching a young lad for quite some time who he was certain was up to no good. He did not seem to work anywhere, and his clothes were near in tatters. He mainly leaned against shop windows until he was chased away from them.
He was bound to make off with something before the day was through. Though, if it were a loaf of bread or some other foodstuff, Harry fully intended on turning a blind eye.
Harry had just come out of a bookseller’s little shop. He’d bought a book on geography to account for his lingering there. Suddenly and much to his relief, as it was getting unbearably hot, he saw the duchess’ carriage come to a stop in front of Rundell and Bridge.
Her diabolical footmen had the carriage doors open and the duchess and Lady Isabel were out and into Rundell’s before he could manage to casually encounter them.
No matter. They were here now, and he would be nearby when they ventured out again.
He thought it would be wise to be lurking near the back end of the lady’s carriage. Else, the coachman would surely perceive what he was doing. Depending on how familiar his relationship with the duchess was, he might well tell her of it.
Of course, it had been the duchess herself who’d told him where she would go this day. She would understand what he’d done easily enough, but best that she could not prove it with reports of him lounging about outside.
The boy who had been doing a lot of lurking himself, though not in pursuit of a lady, leaned against the far column of Rundell’s.
“Off with you, now,” Harry said quietly.
The boy shrugged and took himself to the column on the opposite side of the door into the shop.
Harry had hoped the ladies would not be in there too long, as they were only meant to receive an item already ordered, but he’d been standing round for almost a half-hour.
He stole a glance through the shop windows from time to time. It was always the same view—the duchess admiring herself in a glass, resplendent in her new tiara.
Harry could help but laugh at the sight. The tiara was positively ponderous. It was as if the duchess had said, “Mr. Rundell, I do not care how heavy it is, I do not care if I can barely hold my head up. I wish for all the gold and emeralds in the world to be perched upon my head.”
As for poor Lady Isabel, she was left to do an endless amount of smiling and nodding. The footman standing in attendance did his own nodding and Harry assumed the duchess’ entire household revolved round showing approval for the duchess’ every word and action.
Now, though, the moment had come. He’d just spied Mr. Rundell take the tiara from the duchess’ hands and place it in its velvet-covered box.
Harry straightened up and waited for his moment.
He peeked in again and saw the footman step forward to take the box, but the duchess waved him off.Shetook the box from Mr. Rundell and held it as if it contained the crown jewels which, he supposed, she thought it did.
The footman, seeing he was not to carry the box, raced to the door. It swung open, and the duchess sailed out of it.
“Ah! Your Grace!” Harry said, striding toward them as if he’d been just coincidentally passing by.
“Mr. Vance,” she said coldly.
“Lady Isabel,” he said. “Charming to encounter you at such a chance moment.”
The duchess stared at him, no doubt wishing to communicate that she was not at all fooled.
