PROLOGUE
L ondon - April 1817
Jacques DesJardins proved to be utterly predictable in his inclinations, much to the relief of Damien DeVries, the Duke of Haynesdale. Some months previously, DesJardins had ensured that Miss Esmeralda Ballantyne was found guilty of his own crime, by hiding stolen gems in the courtesan’s home. Damien had been responsible for the magistrate’s visit and discovery of the gems, thus he blamed himself for Miss Ballantyne’s incarceration.
He made a visit to Miss Ballantyne in Fleet Street Prison, but she declined to confide in him. Guessing that she protected someone, Damien persisted. He provided for her expenses in his absence then went to Paris in pursuit of the villain. Never had there been a man so determined to set matters to rights. He located a young lady hidden away by Miss Ballantyne. Mademoiselle Sylvie LaFleur was the younger sister of Miss Ballantyne, though Damien was one of very few who knew that truth. Suspecting that Jacques might do injury to the young girl, Damien had retrieved her and taken her beneath his protection as his ward. He knew they had been followed on their return journey to England, and he could guess by whom.
The journey, however, had granted the duke ample time to concoct a plan.
Immediately upon his arrival in London, Damien hired two decommissioned soldiers, men he knew to be reliable beyond a doubt, and dispatched them to watch Miss Ballantyne’s home. His suspicions were rewarded by an early report of the pair rebuffing the attempts of an intruder to enter the house. The villain fled, but not before he was seen clearly. Damien now knew the identity of his pursuer beyond doubt.
That DesJardins was trying to break into Miss Ballantyne’s residence was more than enough evidence that the wily thief intended to avenge himself upon the courtesan. No doubt he thought to destroy her home while she was incarcerated, or perhaps injure those people in her service. He might be scheming to smear her name in some other way.
That would not be the case if Damien had a say in the matter. First, he would set a trap that would prove irresistible to a jewel thief like DesJardins. The man must be short of funds, and the duke would offer an apparently easy opportunity to improve that situation.
On the afternoon of the 16 th , Damien took his new ward shopping, ensuring that all were aware that she was under his protection. He told everyone they encountered that Sylvie was his ward, knowing they would assume this to be a tale. Speculation would be that either she was his child, but as he spent funds upon her, it was more likely to be assumed that his true intention was to marry her.
Sylvie was well aware of the plan and had agreed in order to help her sister. On this shopping expedition, Damien was open-handed with his companion. He bought Sylvie dress lengths of fabric, several new bonnets, but more particularly, a glorious emerald parure. She shared the same coloring as Miss Ballantyne, having ebony hair and green eyes, and the gems suited her perfectly. She pivoted in the jeweler’s shop, blushing, as all admired the gems upon her. Damien extended the interval, wanting to ensure that as many as possible witnessed it, wanting rumor to spread quickly.
He had been out of England for a month and was keenly aware that Miss Ballantyne must have suffered during his absence, despite the funds he had dispensed for her comfort in advance. She had been thin when he had visited her in her cell, though he still could close his eyes and feel the vigor of her kiss. His blood stirred even at the memory, though this quest was about more than earthly desire for him.
It was about justice. He had, after all, led the magistrate to her door, which resulted in the discovery of the gems and Miss Ballantyne’s arrest. Damien had immediately recognized his error and vowed to set matters right.
Upon their return to Haynesdale House in Grosvenor Square, Sylvie wore the gems for dinner. Damien found himself wishing for his mother’s presence, despite the fact that she would have a great deal to say of his choices, but she had gone to Haynesdale Manor in Nottinghamshire just days before.
He would have to rely upon the servants talking of events at the house.
Sylvie spent much of the evening looking out the windows of the chamber she was said to occupy, as if fascinated by the city and the activity on the square. Damien insisted that she be well-lit, so the gems would be unmistakable. As instructed, she removed the set herself, placing it upon the dressing table in full view of anyone who might be watching, then yawned mightily. Phipps, the maid assigned to her, closed the drapes then, leaving a sufficient gap that it would be clear the lamps had been extinguished. Phipps had been in service in the duke’s household for years and Damien knew she could be relied upon completely. She had vowed not to leave Sylvie unattended that night.
Once the drapes were closed, Sylvie was immediately taken to the other end of the house to another bedchamber. Phipps sat vigil with her, along with two footmen. The first room was instead occupied by Damien, hidden in the shadows, and a pair of Bow Street Runners well aware of the details. They had been smuggled into the house through the kitchens and were similarly hidden from view. A bundle of blankets was placed in the bed to give the appearance that Sylvie slept there, though the drapes around the bed were pulled slightly lest the villain suspect the ruse.
Though it seemed an eternity, they did not have to wait long. The clocks had struck midnight when a slender male figure came into view outside the window where Mlle. Sylvie had stood. There was a balcony there and Damien barely dared to breathe as he watched the silhouetted man on the other side of the glass. He knew they were all braced for the arrival of Jacques DesJardins.
The latch was lifted with a cunning tool, one which Damien meant to seize so he could guarantee that none of his locks might be opened subsequently by one of similar design.
The thief slid into the room, as silent as a shadow. He paused for a moment, listening, then moved stealthily toward the velvet box for the parure. He seized it from the dressing table, then opened it so the glitter of the gems was revealed.
In the blink of an eye, he closed the box, tucked it beneath his arm and pivoted to make for the window. He managed only a step before the Bow Street Runners were upon him. He struggled and bit and swore in French, but was overwhelmed by the time Damien stepped forward to reclaim the gems. A match was struck and a candle lit, then DesJardins swore with vigor.
“I suffer no man to claim what is mine,” Damien said softly, looking into the villain’s eyes.
Jacques DesJardins spat in the duke’s face, earning himself a punch that broke his nose.
“Take him away,” Damien growled, rubbing his knuckles. “Remind him however you see fit that he has a confession to make to the magistrate at dawn, and that it had best include more than this night’s events.”
Satisfied beyond all, Damien retreated to his library, secured the gems in the safe, and poured himself a brandy. The front door was secured after the departure of the villain and his captors, then Mlle. Sylvie appeared in the doorway in her dressing gown.
“It is done, Monsieur?”
“It is done.”
“Then we can go to Esmé?”
“No, not as yet. We must wait.”
“Always we wait!”
“First your sister must be exonerated and then, I wager, she would like to collect herself before she welcomes a guest.”
“Of course. I apologize for my impatience to meet her again.”
“It is perfectly understandable, but I will not see either of you disappointed.”
“You are so wise, Your Grace.” The girl’s eyes welled with tears and she came to him, dropping to one knee before him. She was a vision of beauty but Damien felt only a paternal protectiveness toward her. “Thank you, Monsieur! I will do anything…”
Damien claimed her hand, kissed the back of it and raised her to her feet. “You have only to retire to your new chamber and sleep well. I will tell you as soon as I have tidings of Miss Ballantyne, I vow it to you.”
She smiled at him then, one grateful tear spilling on her cheek, then reached to kiss his own cheek. Damien smiled as she pivoted and fled, listening to the sound of her footsteps as she ran up the stairs. What a charming child she was.
Perhaps his mother was right and the time had come for him to wed and start a family of his own. He knew it would not be Mlle. Sylvie LaFleur he took to wife, despite her charms. In fact, if he had to choose in this moment, his selection would have been most uncommon. Damien smiled into his brandy, quite certain his mother would be less than impressed, but then it was not healthy for a lady to plan every detail of her son’s life.
Surprise, he believed, was good for the spirit.
First, he would reacquaint himself with the lady in question. One kiss did not an engagement make and it was entirely possible that he was intrigued for novelty’s sake alone.
The duke had not known a courtesan before Miss Ballantyne. Perhaps that was the extent of her appeal.
He would soon find out for certain. His smile broadened with the conviction that the investigation itself would prove most rewarding indeed.