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  “Yes, he should return to London by the end of the week.”

  Lady Chance clapped her hands in pleasure. “Oh, then he shall be here for my gathering!”

  “Who would dare miss the social event of the holiday season?” he drawled, a glint in his eyes.

  “Hardly that, but it should be quite diverting.” His mother preened. Then she gave a faint frown. “Of course I do wish you could convince Miss Cresswell to attend. Such a charming girl.”

  Chance stiffened. He had come to his mother’s to put Miss Cresswell out of his thoughts. The last thing he desired was to discuss her numerous charms. “She appears quite adamant,” he said in dismissive tones.

  The older woman gave a faint pout. “I do not believe you have even attempted to convince her.”

  He lifted his dark brows at the accusation. “What would make you presume such a thing?”

  “Well, she is obviously in love with you,” Lady Chance shocked him by retorting. “Had you asked her to attend, she certainly would.”

  Chance surged to his feet in an awkward motion. He felt as if he had taken a blow to the stomach. “You are mistaken, Mother. Miss Cresswell is not in love with me,” he rasped.

  Lady Chance regarded him in vague bewilderment. “Then why was she seen driving in the park with you?”

  Blast the London rattles, he silently cursed. Why could they not mind their own affairs? Miss Cresswell was above reproach. Indeed, she lived a life more full and worthy than any of the supposed ton. The thought that her name was being bandied about was untenable. “You should not listen to such worthless gossip,” he told his mother.

  “Then she was not with you?”

  “Yes, but . . .” Chance halted in exasperation. Good gads, he could not explain his complex relationship with Miss Cresswell to his mother. He did not comprehend it himself.

  A decidedly curious expression descended upon the older woman’s countenance. “Why, I have never seen you so flustered, Oliver.”

  Chance did not miss the hopeful note in his mother’s voice, a hope he was swift to dismiss. “Please, Mother, do not suppose that I am considering Miss Cresswell to become the next Lady Chance.”

  “Why ever not?” the current Lady Chance demanded. “She is beautiful, charming, and not at all intimidated by you.”

  His lips twisted. “Yes, I know.”

  “And I am not so old that I did not notice the way your gaze lingered upon her,” she continued slyly.

  Chance briefly closed his eyes. Of course his gaze had lingered. He truly believed he could gaze upon Miss Cresswell for the remainder of his days.

  “It is impossible.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she . . .”

  “Oliver, for goodness sakes, what is it?” his mother demanded with a sharp impatience.

  Feeling unjustly harassed, Chance realized that he would have to confess the truth. Now that his mother had taken the maggot into her head that Miss Cresswell would be a suitable daughter-in-law, she would drive him to distraction with her matchmaking efforts.

  “She is the daughter of the Devilish Dandy,” he burst out in blunt tones.

  A stunned silence followed his words as Lady Chance struggled to accept the truth. “The jewel thief?”

  “Yes.”

  The color drained from his mother’s round face. “Oh ... and she seemed like such a lady.”

  Chance had intended to convince his mother of Miss Cresswell’s unsuitability as a prospective bride. How else could he have any peace otherwise? But, perversely, her shocked words made his countenance tighten with annoyance.

  “She is a lady,” he insisted in tones that defied argument. “Whatever her father has done is not a reflection upon her.”

  Lady Chance clicked her tongue. “Unfortunately, Society would not agree. A maiden is judged not only on her beauty and accomplishments, but also on the purity of her reputation and that of her family. Such a pity.”

  The stark truth of her words only served to deepen Chance’s irritation. “It is dashed absurd,” he gritted. “Miss Cresswell is more worthy than of all those supposedly respectable maidens rolled into one.”

  A gathering frown darkened Lady Chance’s brow at his fierce defense of Miss Cresswell. Whatever her hopes for luring her son down the aisle, they had been effectively dashed by the knowledge the young woman was connected to the Devilish Dandy. Now she was clearly concerned that her son was far too staunch a supporter for the scandalous miss.

  “Perhaps, but it would not be wise to be seen in her company, my dear,” she said with delicate caution. “You do have your own reputation to think of. Thank goodness she possessed the good sense to decline my invitation.”

  Chance grimaced. “Oh, yes, Miss Cresswell is utterly sensible to her position.”

  “More sensible than you, I fear.”

  Chance was unable to prevent the harsh laugh that echoed eerily through the vast room. “I assure you I am ever conscious of it, Mother.” He gave a shake of his head. “That does not, however, prevent me from desiring to be with her.”

  “Oh, Oliver,” his mother gasped in dismay.

  “Yes, foolish of me, is it not?” he mocked himself. “I have always prided myself on being the most intelligent of blokes.”

  A woman who disliked any sort of discord in her life, Lady Chance struggled to make the best of the unexpected troubles. In her mind it was always best to ignore unpleasantness in the hope that it would simply go away.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she settled back in the settee. “It is a passing fancy,” she proclaimed in determined tones. “After all, she is pretty and possesses quite pleasing manners. You will soon meet another to push all thoughts of Miss Cresswell from your mind.”

  “So I have told myself,” he retorted in dry tones.

  “It must be a passing fancy,” she repeated with a firm expression.

  Chance had no need for his mother’s warnings. He had brooded upon the dilemma far too often not to have come to the same conclusion. “Yes.”

  “Perhaps you should return to Kent until the Season begins.”

  Chance shook his head. It was an enticing thought. Surely miles from London and surrounded by the ancient and noble legacy of the Chance dynasty, he could thrust Miss Cresswell from his thoughts once and for all. But he dismissed the notion as swiftly as it entered his head. A few miles and a pile of old stones were not the cure for his troubles.

  “I am not one to flee from my problems.” He deliberately eased his rigid muscles. “Besides, how could I miss your grand party?”

  Lady Chance’s expression remained one of concern. “Please do not think that I do not like Miss Cresswell,” she pleaded. “She is most charming. It is just . . .”

  “Yes, I know,” Chance said wearily. “I must go.”

  Lady Chance slowly rose to her feet. “Take care, Oliver.”

  * * *

  Huddled in the corner of the carriage, Sarah attempted to keep her gaze from straying toward the heartbreakingly familiar gentleman across from her. It had been nearly a week since she had last seen Lord Chance, and it was proving amazingly difficult not to simply stare at him in open pleasure.

  Who would have thought such a sensible maiden could devote hours to brooding upon the taste of a gentleman’s lips, the scent of his skin, and the extraordinary way he gazed into her eyes? Or pace the floor long into the night battling the disappointment that he did not call upon her?

  It was all as confusing as it was vexing, and Sarah wavered between tears of self-pity and anger at her foolish weakness.

  At least it would all soon come to an end, she attempted to reassure herself. Lord Chance had arrived on her doorstep earlier that morning with the announcement that Ben had returned to London. Gathering her courage, she had demanded to be taken to him at once. At last she would have the opportunity to assure herself she had done all that was possible to locate the Chance diamonds. After that, she would be in the position to wash her hands of Lor
d Chance once and for all.

  Which was precisely what she desired, was it not?

  Absently plucking at the skirt of her russet gown, she heard the whisper of leather as Lord Chance leaned forward. “You are very quiet.” He broke the long silence.

  With a great deal of reluctance, she lifted her head to meet his searching gaze. “I am concerned.” She attempted to divert him from her true troubles.

  “About meeting Ben?” he questioned in genuine surprise. “I assure you he is remarkably harmless. Indeed, you will find him far more pleasing than myself.”

  Impossible, Sarah silently acknowledged even as she shook her head.

  “I am concerned I am wasting all of our time. After all, Ben might not be able to shed any sense on the bumble broth.”

  “We shall not know until we try.”

  “Yes, I suppose you are right,” she agreed, sighing.

  His dark gaze narrowed as it studied the paleness of her countenance and the shadows beneath her blue eyes. Since arriving that morning, Lord Chance had maintained a polite but distant manner. Not by look or deed had he attempted to take advantage of the humiliating weakness she had revealed during their last encounter. In truth, Sarah suspected he was determined to squash any hopes she might harbor of further intimacies, a thought that made her cringe in embarrassment.

  His expression, however, at the moment was softened with concern. “Are you certain there is nothing else troubling you?”

  For a mad moment she wondered how he would react if she confessed the truth—that she was troubled by the way her body ached for his touch, by the way she felt only half alive when he was not near, and how she awoke in the midst of the night terrified she might never see him again.

  Of course, she did nothing so foolish. Instead, she forced a stiff smile to her lips. “What could be troubling me?”

  “I should very much like to know,” he said softly.

  She breathed out in relief as the carriage rolled to a halt. “We have arrived.”

  He paused, as if considering whether or not to pursue his question. Then, with a barely audible sigh, he smoothly climbed out of the carriage and helped her alight.

  The earlier snow had given way to a dismal rain, and they hurried up the short path to the modest house. Within moments, a butler had ushered them into the foyer and relieved them of their outer wraps. From there they were led to a small parlor, where a slender, boyishly handsome gentleman was absently pacing the floor.

  At first glance there was little resemblance between the two brothers. Ben was built along delicate lines, with lighter hair and features that held none of the forceful character of Lord Chance. Not until he smiled did Sarah feel the tangible charm that was so evident in his older brother.

  “You are looking well, Chance,” the younger man said, his gaze lingering on the perfectly knotted cravat and fitted emerald coat.

  “As are you, Ben.” Chance firmly drew Sarah forward. “May I introduce Miss Cresswell? Miss Cresswell, my brother, Mr. Coltran.”

  Ben performed a credible bow. “Your servant, Miss Cresswell.”

  “Mr. Coltran.”

  “Chance has told me of your efforts. I cannot express my gratitude.”

  “I fear I have been remarkably unsuccessful thus far,” she felt compelled to confess with a small pang. She could easily understand Lord Chance’s urge to protect his younger brother from his own foolishness. There was something very weak and vulnerable in his delicate features. “That is why I wished to speak with you.”

  Ben grimaced as he moved to pour himself a large measure of whiskey.

  “I do not know how I can be of help. I haven’t the foggiest notion what happened to those bloody . . . er ... deuced diamonds.”

  Sarah wisely overlooked his less than delicate language. The poor boy was clearly overwrought with a combination of guilt and fear, and, like most weak men, he lived in dread of having his misdeeds revealed.

  “Perhaps you know more than you realize,” she encouraged.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I wish you to tell me every detail of the evening that you took the diamonds.”

  Ben shoved an impatient hand through his brown curls. “I already told Chance . . .”

  “Ben,” Lord Chance abruptly interrupted in stern tones. “Do as Miss Cresswell requests.”

  Instantly cowed by his more forceful brother, Ben gave a rather petulant shrug.

  “Very well. As I told Chance, I went to Mother’s with Goldie and borrowed the diamonds. Then we came back here.”

  Sarah, determined, drew a mental image of that evening in her head. “When you returned, did you go straight to the safe?”

  Ben wrinkled his brow. “Yes.”

  “Where is it kept?”

  “Over there.” He waved his hand toward a rather horrid landscape framed on the wall.

  Crossing the room, Sarah discovered the latch on the frame with a skill learned from her father and allowed the painting to swing open. Cut into the wall, the safe was not particularly sophisticated and no doubt could have been broken into by an experienced thief within a blink of an eye. After studying the lock with an experienced gaze, she at last turned back toward Ben. “So you opened the safe and put the diamonds inside.”

  “Yes ...” Ben faltered, his frown deepening. “No, wait.”

  “What is it?” Lord Chance demanded.

  Struggling to recall the precise events, Ben absently set his glass aside. “Masswell came to the door and announced that Moreland and Fritz had arrived.”

  Sarah watched him closely. “What did you do with the diamonds?”

  “I must have put them in the safe.”

  “Are you certain?” she coaxed.

  There was a long pause as Ben bent his powers to dredge up the memories. Then suddenly he gave a sharp shake of his head.

  “No, I remember. I gave the diamonds to Goldie and told him to put them in the safe.”

  Sarah felt a flare of excitement. At last they were getting somewhere. Still, she was cautious not to allow her vague suspicions to encourage her to leap to conclusions. “Did you leave the room?”

  “Yes, I went to get rid of my guests.”

  Sarah slowly advanced toward the young gentleman. “Think carefully, Mr. Coltran. When you returned, did you see the diamonds in the safe?”

  There was another pause as Ben thought back. “No,” he at last admitted. “Goldie had already locked them in.”

  Her suspicion only deepened. “Did you check on them anytime that evening?”

  “No.”

  “So you never saw the diamonds after you requested that Goldie put them in the safe?”

  Clearly baffled by her persistence, Ben heaved an exasperated sigh. “No.”

  Beside him, however, Lord Chance was not nearly so slow-witted. Glancing from Sarah to the safe and back to her, a slow dawning of comprehension swept across his countenance. “Good Lord,” he breathed.

  Ben turned to his older brother. “What is it?”

  Lord Chance’s gaze never strayed from Sarah’s wide eyes. “Goldie,” he said in firm tones.

  Sarah smiled with a flare of satisfaction. “Precisely.”

  Thirteen

  Chance regarded Sarah’s lovely face with a warm flare of admiration. Good gads, he had known beautiful women and, on rare occasions, truly good women. But none had managed to combine such virtues with an innate intelligence that never failed to amaze him.

  She was astonishing.

  With a few intuitive questions, she had delved straight to the truth of the events on that fateful evening and determined precisely what must have occurred rather than accepting matters as they seemed to have occurred. Not even he had thought to ensure that the diamonds had actually made it to the safe, or to suspect the most obvious culprit.

  Astonishing, indeed, he silently conceded.

  Lost in her startling blue eyes, he had nearly forgotten his brother. In truth, at the moment he wished to forget a
ll but her.

  Ben, however, was predictably impervious to the silent exchange between Chance and Sarah as he struggled to comprehend what was occurring.

  Shaking his head, he glanced toward his older brother. “What about Goldie?”

  Chance drew in a deep breath. Although Ben was not the most clever of gentlemen nor the most responsible, he could be blindly loyal to those he called his friends. It was hopeless to assume he would readily accept their suspicions. “He is the one who stole the Chance diamonds.”

  A gasp of shock rasped through the air. “Ridiculous. Goldie is not a thief,” Ben retorted in outraged tones. “Besides, he put the diamonds in the safe.”

  Chance folded his arms across his chest. “You said yourself you never saw him put the jewels in the safe. It would have been a simple matter to slip them into his pocket, close the safe, and await your return.”

  A peevish expression descended upon Ben’s boyish features at the utterly logical explanation. “Not only is Goldie a gendeman, he is my friend. He would never treat me in such a shabby fashion.”

  Chance possessed far less faith in the dull-witted dandy. He had already discovered from Ben’s acquaintances that Goldie had all but disappeared and that he was clearly in dun territory.

  “Can you deny he was pressed for money?” he demanded of his brother.

  Ben’s lips turned down at the edges. “Gads, who is not besides the Flawless Earl?”

  Chance stiffened in anger. Damn the bloody fool. He had gone to great lengths to attempt to save Ben from his latest bout of stupidity. He should be showering him with gratitude, not offering up childish insults. “Both Miss Cresswell and I have come here to help you, Ben, at considerable inconvenience to both of us,” he said in soft warning.

  The younger gentleman bunched his shoulders in a defensive fashion. “Well, I do not like to have my friend branded as a thief.”

  “There is no other explanation.”

  “Anyone could have slipped in and stolen those jewels.”

  Chance stepped forward, a hint of exasperation in his dark eyes. Really, Lady Chance had done the young gentleman no favors in keeping him forever a spoiled child. The world, with all its disappointments and responsibilities, was bound to catch up with him eventually.