“Well, my dear cousin herself,” Horace said. “You have one thief to arrest without any further searching, Witley.” And then his eyes moved beyond Judith and the smirk on his face froze there.

“You might well lose that cocky air,” Rannulf said quietly.

“These are the Bedwyns, Witley,” Horace said, not taking his eyes off Rannulf. “With the Duke of Bewcastle himself. A powerful family, as you doubtless know. But I would expect your integrity to be above fear of such power. Lord Rannulf Bedwyn fancies Judith.”

“The game is up, Effingham,” Rannulf said. “The landlord who just let you into these rooms will swear that Branwell Law has not been home here for longer than two weeks—before the theft, that is. He will also swear that this morning you paid him a hefty bribe to let you in here unescorted and to tell certain lies if he was questioned, including one about Law’s having been here yesterday and today. I will swear to the fact that I last saw that cap at Harewood last week, that I have not seen it since though I escorted Miss Law to London. She has also not been out of the company of one or another of my family since we arrived here yesterday afternoon. If that is ail the jewelry that can be found in these rooms, I would guess that there is far more elsewhere. Judith, you would know better than I. Should there be more?”

“Much more,” she said.

“I wonder,” Rannulf said, “if you have been cocky enough to keep them in your lodgings, Effingham, on the assumption that no one would dream of searching for them there.”

The Bow Street Runner cleared his throat. “These are serious charges you are making, my lord,” he said.

“They are indeed,” Rannulf agreed. “Perhaps since we are on a treasure hunt, we should all invite ourselves to Effingham’s lodgings and have a look around.”

It was the moment at which Judith, watching Horace closely, knew that he was finally beaten. He had been foolish enough to keep the jewels in his rooms. And now he was further incriminating himself by turning red in the face and blustering. He was as cowardly now as he had been outside the summerhouse at Grandmaison.

She set her hands over her face briefly and stopped listening. This had all happened—all of it—because she had worn one of her unaltered dresses at Harewood the day of Horace’s arrival there and had not worn a cap. He had looked at her and leered at her, as men had been doing since she grew out of her girlhood, and everything had developed from that moment. It was all her fault.

Freyja, she could see, was seated on one of the chairs in the room, her legs crossed, one foot swinging.

She looked as if she was actually enjoying herself. The duke was still out on the landing, his back to the room, his hands clasped at his back, not participating in the proceedings at all.

“I-I was here earlier,” Horace was saying when she returned her attention to what was going on, “and found everything— all the missing jewels. I took most of them with me for safekeeping and left the rest so that I could bring you here with me, Witley, as a witness.”

“I believe, sir,” the Bow Street Runner said, “we had better go to your lodgings and get the rest of the jewels. And then I believe I am going to have to arrest you.”

Judith spread one hand over her mouth and closed her eyes. Arrests led to trials and witnesses and publicity and terrible pain for the families involved. They led to punishment, often very harsh indeed. She heard herself moan and Rannulf’s arms came about her from behind to clasp her elbows.

“Since you have been hired by Mr. Effingham,” the duke said, finally stepping into the room and strolling across the floor to glance down at the jewels and the cap with apparent distaste, “it would perhaps be unsporting of you to arrest him ... Witley, is it? You may wish to leave me and Lord Rannulf Bedwyn to deal with the matter ourselves?”

The Bow Street Runner looked dubious, and Horace gazed about him in some dismay—wondering perhaps whether the devil or the deep blue sea was the worse fate.

“I am not sure about that, your grace,” the Runner said. “It goes against the grain to allow a man to escape his just and lawful punishment just because he is a gentleman.”

“Oh, I can assure you,” the duke said, his voice so coldly quiet that Judith found herself shivering, “there will be punishment.”

“Miss Law,” Lady Freyja said, getting to her feet, “I believe this is the point at which we are to be ordered from the room. Shall we go voluntarily?”

The day was already feeling quite surreal to Judith. It suddenly became more so. As she and Lady Freyja turned toward the open doorway, someone else stepped into it.

“I say,” a familiar voice said, “what the deuce is going on in here?”

“Bran!” Judith hurled herself into his arms.

“Jude?” he said. “Emngham? Bedwyn? What the devil?”

“You did not take the jewels, did you?” she said, raising her head and gazing into his pale, frowning face.

“I am sorry I ever suspected you, Bran. It was dreadful of me, and I do beg your forgiveness.”

“What jewels?” he asked, his brows knitted together in a deep frown. “Has the world gone mad ?”

“Grandmama’s,” Judith told him. “They all disappeared just after you left in the middle of the ball, and the empty velvet bag and one earring were found in my room. Horace planted the jewels on the table over there in your rooms this morning together with the bonnet cap Aunt Effingham made me wear at Harewood and then he brought a Bow Street Runner here to find them. But the Duke of Bewcastle guessed it all and we arrived in time to catch Horace at it and now Lady Freyja and I have to leave the room because I think Lord Rannulf is going to f-fight Horace.”

She buried her face against his shoulder and burst into tears.

“Well, if that don’t beat all,” she heard Branwell say as she tried to control herself—she was dreadfully embarrassed. “Is that why you came on so nasty during the ball, Effingham, and then suggested that I go to Darnley’s weeklong gaming party to win enough money to pay you back?”

“How much did you win, Law?” Even now Horace had the gall to sneer.

“Thirty pounds actually,” Branwell said. “I say, thank you, Bedwyn.”

He took something from Rannulf’s hand and gave it to Judith—a large handkerchief. She stepped out onto the landing, dried her eyes with it, and blew her nose.

“I was about to bet it when I came to my senses,” Branwell said. “I would certainly have lost it all and then more on top of it. But with the thirty pounds I could pay you back for my traveling expenses, I thought, and then all those other debts when I could. And I will too. I left the party a day early and came back to town. Here!” Judith could hear him striding across the room. “Thirty pounds. And now I have some fighting of my own to do.”

Judith felt a hand on her shoulder. “Ladies always have to miss the greatest fun,” Freyja said with a sigh.

“Come on, we will go home in Wulf’s carriage.”

“Fun!” Judith looked up at her with some indignation. Everything in her world had fallen apart and Lady Freyja thought it was fun ?

But she did not resist the pressure of the other’s hand. Truth to tell, she could not get away fast enough.

She felt deeply, horribly embarrassed even if she ignored all the more personal pain. That Lord Rannulf’s family should be witnesses to such sordid dealings involving her family! That they should know all about Bran and his foolish extravagances and Papa’s impoverishment! That they should know the villainy of her own stepcousin! That they should have witnessed her breaking down and weeping as if her heart would break! And to think that just a few days ago—was it really only three?—she had danced with Lord Rannulf and thought it might just be possible to listen to his marriage proposal and accept it.

How thankful she ought to be that something had happened to bring her to her senses.

Appropriately for the mood of the day it was wet outside. The rain was drizzling down, and they had to make a dash for the carriage.

“Ugh!” Lady Freyja said, shaking out her dress when they were seated within and the vehicle lurched into motion. “I will be glad to get home even though I would have far preferred to stay and watch.”

Home. It was the only word Judith heard.

“Lady Freyja,” she said, “may I beg a great, great favor of you?”

Lady Freyja turned a look of inquiry on her.

“Will you lend ... No.” Judith stopped herself. “I cannot ask for a loan. I doubt if I will ever be able to repay it though I promise to try. Will you give me the fare of a stagecoach ride to my home in Wiltshire?

Please? I know this is dreadful presumption.”

“Why?” Lady Freyja asked.

“I have no reason to stay here any longer,” Judith said, “and I cannot presume on the Duke of Bewcastle’s hospitality anymore. I want to go home.”

“Without saying good-bye to Ralf?” Lady Freyja asked.

Judith closed her eyes briefly.

There was silence within the carriage for several moments.

“There are those,” Lady Freyja said quietly, “who would give a great deal to be looked at as Ralf looked at you back there in the room where we waited.”

Judith swallowed. “You cannot pretend,” she said, “that you did not see the ineligibility of such a connection the moment you set eyes upon me yesterday, that your brothers and your sister did not.

Today you must have become even more aware of it. I am leaving as soon as I have fetched my bag from Bedwyn House, with or without your assistance. I would have thought you would be glad to part with the price of my fare just to have me out of Lord Rannulf’s life.”