"Of course not," he replied.

"The police need to have as complete a picture as possible of this man's activities. Perhaps there is something at your house that may assist them in their investigation. Or a pattern of behavior that would be revealed by adding your location to the list of the crime scenes."

"She is right," Cécile said. "If you were the sole victim of this intruder, you could choose to keep quiet about it. But you are not."

"I suppose it would be wrong of me to do anything that might keep you from getting your earrings back," Mr. Francis said, smiling good-naturedly.

"It's not simply about recovering the earrings," I said.

"Je ne sais pas," Cécile said. "I would very much like to get my earrings back. They're a favorite pair."

"Of course," I said. "But isn't catching the thief and preventing further thefts of primary importance?" Cécile shrugged but did not answer. "If nothing else, I call on you, as a gentleman, to see to it that you do all you can to keep the name of poor Marie Antoinette from being subject to more intrigue and scandal."

"You are most persistent, Lady Ashton. I will talk to the police in the morning if you insist that it is the right thing to do. In the meantime, tell me what you thought of the play we saw tonight."

"I adored it," I said. "Hedda's plight is fascinating. She's incapable of taking pleasure in those things it is assumed will bring a woman happiness."

"So miserable, yet she seems the perfect wife," Mr. Barber said.

"It's rarely wise to accept at face value the image presented by a society wife," I said.

"Or a husband," said Mr. Francis.

"Quite." I smiled, all the while wondering what layers could be found beneath my guest's polished façade.


Mr. Francis was true to his word and spoke to the police about the pink diamond the very next morning. Within two days, the newspapers were filled with sensationalised stories about the thefts. All of society was buzzing about it, and Charles Berry made a great show of issuing a plea to the burglar through the Times, asking that all the objects that belonged to his great-great-grandmother be returned to their rightful owners. Those in possession of such items were thrown into a frenzy, desperate to protect themselves from the thief. Lady Middleton, who owned a chair purported to have been in the queen's bedroom at Versailles, caused a scene when she sent it to her bank and insisted that it be stored in the vault.

"The president of the bank tried to dissuade her, but she refused," Margaret Seward told me as we sat in the Elgin Room of the British Museum that afternoon. "I wish I could have witnessed their exchange."

"Who would dare cross Lady Middleton? I wonder that he even tried." I was sketching a piece of the east pediment of the Parthenon, which depicted the birth of the goddess Athena. Margaret, who read classics at Bryn Mawr, had brought a volume of Ovid with her, and she alternately read and chatted with me while I worked. Occasionally, she would meander through the museum, ready with amusing reports upon her return.

"I have just spotted a man nearly as handsome as Colin," she said after one such journey.

"Really?" This caught my attention.

"Well, not quite. I don't suppose there is another man as handsome as Colin. But this one comes close. He's walking with a terrified-looking young lady and her mother — a real dragon."

"Did you recognize any of them?"

"The girl is called 'Lettice.'"

"Ah," I said. "Lettice Frideswide. The man must be Jeremy."

"You know him?"

"Oh yes, quite well. He's the Duke of Bainbridge. Inherited last year. His estate is near my father's."

"Emily, I will never forgive you for hiding him from me. You know my parents have me here to look for a husband. My father won't settle for anyone without a title — it's crass, but that's the truth of it." Mr. Seward was a wealthy railroad man who, like so many other Americans, longed to see his daughter part of England's aristocracy. Margaret had agreed to do the Season only in exchange for her parents' promise that she could study at Oxford in the fall. "Tell me, is dear Jeremy engaged to the lovely Lettice?"

"I don't think so. He's quite in demand and doesn't seem inclined to settle down."

"He is perfect," she sighed.

"Margaret, I am all astonishment. I thought you'd no intention of marrying."

"I don't want to marry him, but I am desperate for someone to flirt with. Perhaps the good duke and I can come to some sort of understanding that can see me through the rest of the Season. He pays court, which keeps my parents happy, but is safe in the knowledge that I've no desire to marry him. When he hasn't proposed and it's time for me to go to Oxford, they'll return to America, armed with stories about the English lord who let their daughter slip away."

"Lady Frideswide would never forgive you. She's been trying to catch Jeremy for her daughter almost since the girl was born."

"And what does the daughter think?"

"I've not the slightest idea."

"She's awfully young. It won't harm her to wait another Season. Will you introduce me?"

"I suppose so. Were they coming this way?"

"They're upstairs looking at mummies." Margaret looked at me expectantly.

"Are you suggesting that you want me to rush over there and nonchalantly introduce you to the Duke of Bainbridge? Won't it look a bit obvious?" I turned back to my sketch. "No one comes to the museum without visiting the Elgin Room. Be patient, Margaret, and your duke will come to you."

I was right. Not half an hour passed before Jeremy and his party, which had expanded to include Lady Elinor and Isabelle, appeared. The ladies were dressed with such violent elegance that I almost regretted having chosen to abandon the tight lacing of corsets. To stave off the feeling, I took a breath far deeper than any of them could hope to draw and smiled broadly, giving my hand to the duke. Greetings were exchanged and introductions made, following which there was little conversation of substance. Lady Elinor complimented my drawing, and I her pin, a striking bird of paradise fashioned out of gold, its feathers covered with sapphires, rubies, and emeralds. Margaret was politeness itself, eager to impress Jeremy, who clearly felt no discomfort at finding himself the only gentleman in such a large group of ladies. The younger members of the party remained silent, posed prettily behind their mothers, until Lettice stepped towards me, squinting as she looked at the sculptures in front of us.

"Where's the baby?" she asked. "The sign says this shows the birth of Athena."

"There is no baby," I said, smiling. "Athena sprang fully grown from Zeus's head."

"Really?" She looked at me, then at Isabelle. "I don't know the story."

"Athena's mother was Metis, Zeus's first wife — "

"Yes, thank you, Lady Ashton." Lady Frideswide took Lettice's arm and steered her back to Isabelle. I was stunned by her rudeness and decided there was no reason now for me not to act boldly on Margaret's behalf.

"Have you plans for luncheon, Your Grace?" I asked, turning to Jeremy.

"Really, Lady Ashton," he replied, stressing each syllable of my name. "There's no need for such formality. We've known each other since we were babies. I'm lunching at my club."

"What a disappointment," I said. "I should so like to visit with you." Lady Frideswide flashed a look of disbelief. "Leave your club for tomorrow and join Miss Seward and me today."

"Is there a man in Britain able to resist you, Lady Ashton? What time do you want me?" Jeremy's acceptance of this invitation would be viewed as a social coup. Luncheon was typically a ladies' meal; gentlemen preferred their clubs. My mother would certainly pay me a visit the moment she heard of this. I turned to Margaret as the duke and ladies left us.

"You are going to be forever indebted to me for this."

"Oh, he's perfectly agreeable. You didn't have to work on him at all. I love him already."

"The gossips will say that I've set my cap for the Duke of Bainbridge."

"Not once he turns his attentions to me."

"How, precisely, do you plan to manage that? Are you going to speak to him directly about what you want?"

"I was hoping you could broker it for me, Emily. Then I truly will be forever indebted to you."


Margaret excused herself soon after we had retired to the sitting room following the luncheon. Jeremy squirmed uncomfortably, clearly surprised at having been left alone with me.

"Have you contrived this meeting, Em?" he asked, addressing me as he had since he was five years old. "What's going on?"

"Don't worry, Jeremy, you're quite safe from me. I've no interest in marrying you."

He slumped in his chair. "That's a relief. Although I will say candidly that when at last I accept the inevitable and marry, I won't be able to find a more charming wife than you."

"Don't waste your flattery on me."

"Let me flatter you. Doing it to anyone else will set tongues wagging across town and lead to rumors of imminent marriage."

"I know your plight only too well."

"I suppose you do. But I thought you and Hargreaves..." He stopped.

"Colin and I are not engaged," I said. "What about you and Lettice Frideswide?"

"There is no affection between us. Lettice seems more terrified of me than anything, and there has never been any talk of an engagement except by our mothers. You and I are similar creatures. Each with perfect opportunity before us yet unwilling to take it. Perhaps we should join forces. If all of society believes we have an understanding, they'll leave us alone."