Quinnell slipped out of the room, and her gaze went back to the window. She was already planning her escape. He didn’t have much time left. She edged toward the window. “Easy to break,” she answered. “And ‘ard to pawn.”
“But surely you have a confederate who would buy it from you.”
“A wot?”
“A confederate. A partner, so to speak.”
“I ‘ad a partner until about a year ago. Now I work alone. Wot’s it to ye?”
“Suspicious sort, aren’t you? I suppose you have to be.” He waved a hand. “We have a lot in common, you know.”
He laughed at the disbelief on her face. “What I mean, dear girl, is we are both collectors.”
The thief glanced around the room and Roland knew he saw appreciation on her face.
“You have an eye for the rare and valuable, and that is not something that can be taught. Believe you me, I have tried.” He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “How old are you?”
“Old enough. ‘Ow old are ye?”
“Three and twenty,” he said. “I’ve been collecting since I was younger than you. Have you ever thought what you would do with these antiquities if you did not have to steal them?”
She shrugged. “That’s the sort of question a man with soft ‘ands and wearing a silk dress asks.”
“It’s a banyan, and I suppose it is a question you’ve not considered before.”
“I don’t believe in fairy tales.”
“No time for them, I’m sure.” He considered. He’d intrigued her, but now to harness that interest. “What if I told you I have other rooms like this with items just as valuable, if not more valuable? What if I said I need someone to catalogue and appraise them?”
“I’d ask where they were.”
He laughed again. “So you could steal the items. Yes, I see.”
She curled her lip, clearly confused as to why he found her answer so amusing.
“But what if I paid you to study the artifacts? What if I paid you to travel with me and buy others even more valuable?”
The thief stared at him. Hope bloomed on her face but she just as quickly snuffed it out. “Why would ye do that?”
“Because you have a rare talent.” He gestured to her hand inside her trouser pocket. “Take the ring out of your pocket,” he said.
She started. She obviously didn’t think he’d seen her palm it.
“Go on, take it out. Then bring it close to the light.” He rose and lit a lamp on a long table then unrolled a deep blue strip of velvet. “Lay it here and take a look.”
The thief didn’t move.
Roland frowned at her. “Humor me. If my proposal doesn’t appeal, you can keep the ring for hearing me out.”
“I can keep the ring?” she said.
“If you hear me out.”
“That’s the only catch?”
“That is my sole condition. I give you my word as a gentleman.”
That didn’t seem to reassure her, but after a brief internal battle, she brought him the ring.
“Place it here.” He indicated the velvet. She placed the ring on the fabric, and the viscount moved the lamp closer. The ring looked lovely against the deep blue background and in the warm lamplight.
Roland pulled two items from a velvet bag and laid them beside the ring. One looked like some sort of medical instrument while the other was round and looked like a lens from spectacles.
“This is a loupe,” he said, holding up the lens. “It magnifies the item so you might see details invisible or too small to be seen clearly by the naked eye.” He held it out to her, and she took it and reached for the ring. His hand stayed hers. “These are pincers,” he said, holding up the metal medical-looking instrument. “They allow you to hold the item still and without dirtying it with your hands. May I show you?”
He held his hand out for the loupe back. Reluctantly, she handed it over and watched as he held the ring with the end of the pincers and used the loupe to examine the inside band. “Ah, yes. There it is.” He handed the pincers and the loupe back to her. “Have a look.”
She did so, and he watched as she squinted then drew back then looked again.
“That’s the maker’s mark,” he said quietly, almost reverently. “I have books and books of those marks. That one is from the 1600s and a jeweler in France. He served the Bourbon family—the royal family.”
She looked up at him. “This was the ring of a king?”
“It was. This ring belonged to Louis le Juste. That was Louis XIII.”
She looked at the ring through the loupe again.
“So you see, when you chose the signet ring, you unknowingly chose one of the most valuable items I possess. Think what you could do with some training.”
“Training?” She looked up at him.
“Like an apprenticeship,” he said, stepping back. “I will teach you what I know. In return, you help me find the great treasures of the world.”
“The world?”
“Have you ever even been outside of London, dear girl? Would you like to go to Paris? Constantinople? Berlin?”
She stared at him. “Wot’s the catch?”
“You will have to bathe regularly, for one. And you’ll have to learn to read—in several languages. You’ll have to study for years to be good enough. And in return...”
“Yes?” she asked. He heard eagerness in her voice, though she tried to muffle it.
“I will provide you with a salary as well as room and board—not here. This is a purely professional partnership. You’ll be my apprentice and one day, if you are good enough, my partner.”
“I’m good enough,” she said.
“Then we have a deal?” He held out his hand, and she stared at it.
“You shake it,” he said. She looked at him sharply, and something changed in her expression. He saw it soften. Then she put her hand in his and he squeezed it warmly, hoping he was right about her. Hoping she didn’t rob him blind and murder him in his sleep.
Part II
One
London 1818
Aidan hoped he hadn’t made a colossal mistake. He’d come to Lady Birtwistle’s ball to speak with the prime minister. Having just acquired a new shipping venture, Aidan hoped to discuss a bill that would ease tariffs with the prime minister. But he’d either come too early or too late. The prime minister was not in attendance.
He didn’t regret making an appearance. He’d fought with Lady Birtwistle’s younger brother Rafe during the war. Several of his former comrades-in-arms were in attendance, including the Duke of Mayne and Colin FitzRoy. At least FitzRoy’s wife was here, which meant Colin must be about somewhere. But where was the prime minister?
“You could at least pretend to enjoy yourself,” Lady Birtwistle said, coming to stand beside him, glass of champagne in hand.
“I’m having a wonderful evening,” Aidan said, raising his own untouched glass in a salute. “This is surely the best ball of the Season.”
“Liar.” She said it with a grin. “This is not the best ball of the Season, and you are not having a wonderful evening.” Her blue eyes shone with humor. “You are looking for someone because you have business to attend to. Do you never take an evening off?”