Midnight Masquerade by Joan Smith Page B

have canvassed the options open to her,” Belami mentioned casually. “I expect the insurance companies are reluctant to insure jewels—so easy to lose or have stolen, in any of the ways you mentioned. I have heard of their refusing to honor claims, due to those suspicious circumstances. A jewel stolen, and seen to have been stolen by a roomful of witnesses, of course, is quite a different matter. It would be impossible to renege, I should think, without being hauled into court.”
    “It would not be reneging if the policy had lapsed,” Deirdre fired back. “And it very likely had. The clock was striking twelve at the precise moment, the ugly old long-case clock in the hallway. It may have been a few minutes slow.”
    “You mean fast, surely. And can you possibly be referring to my exquisite green lacquered clock with the painted panels, by Edward Moore, of Norwich?” Belami inquired, amazed at her description of this priceless objet d’art.
    “I mean that ugly piece of merchandise with the balls and fins on top of it, like a Chinese pagoda!” she snapped back.
    “The Edward Moore! She actually calls my Moore an ugly piece of merchandise,” he told Pronto, who sniffled and poured another cup of coffee.
    “Was never fond if it myself,” Pronto admitted.
    “You never claimed to have any taste. I expected better of Miss Gower. It keeps perfect time, by the by. I tend to the regulation of it myself, the balancing of the pendula—there are more than one—the oiling, and so on. It is a very precise clock. If it was chiming, then it was past midnight.”
    “In that case you can hardly claim my aunt arranged the theft to profit from the insurance.”
    “But I didn’t suggest it, my dear. It was you who first cast such a wicked aspersion on Her Grace. Downright ungrateful, I call it, after all she has done for you. And will do still upon her demise. You are her heiress, n’est-ce pas ?”
    “Now you’re saying I did it!”
    “Not in the least. How you do jump about, from accusation to accusation, with no basis. I am merely pointing out that Her Grace would not live to enjoy much of the thirty thousand pounds, whereas you will have the benefit of it. You did not care for the necklace, if memory serves. A gaudy lump, I seem to remember hearing you call it.”
    “ Ac -tually I was in the ballroom when it was stolen,” she reminded him.
    “I did not mean to suggest you worked alone. An accomplice of more or less my own size and height was required. You don’t suppose folks will take the notion we contrived it together, do you?” he asked, smiling at this whimsical idea. “No, impossible. No one would think me foolish enough to steal it when the policy had elapsed.”
    “I doubt very much it would occur to anyone but you that I was involved,” she said. “It is known well enough, however, that you have suffered severe losses recently at the gaming tables.
    “True. Very true.”
    Pronto snorted into his collar. “Rubbish. Won a monkey at Whites t’other night. Never lost a guinea. Luckiest gambler I ever saw. Only put about he lost to sour old Char—Heh, heh.” He subsided into silence as he became aware he was being glared at.
    “Pronto, dear boy,” Belami said, “would you be so terribly kind as to—ah, see if Mama is, ah, up yet?”
    “Yes, Pronto, do see if Lady Belami is up yet, before you blurt out that His Lordship only pretended he was dipped, to prevent my aunt from forcing me to marry him,” Deirdre said, directing her speech over Pronto’s head to Belami.
    “Well, I will see if Bertie’s up yet if you like,” Pronto answered amiably, “but it ain’t likely she is. Never does get up before noon.” He picked up a piece of toast and wandered from the room, muttering to himself. “Believe I put my foot in it. Didn’t mean any harm.”
    As soon as he was gone, Belami directed a fierce, white-lipped look at Deirdre. “What do you mean, forcing you to marry me!”
    As there had been