of the white marble had been left rough and unfinished; the figures seemed to be emerging from the rock as if they were coming to life before her eyes. The first slave’s head was thrown back, his eyes closed, his arm raised above his head. The muscles in his torso rippled and bulged.
Emmy swallowed. Instead of tortured, the figure looked almost … aroused. Exhausted by a surfeit of loving. She lowered her gaze—and smothered a gasp at the realistic depiction of his private parts, which were unashamedly on display. Her cheeks warmed in mortification. She heard Harland make a constricted noise, almost a snort, above her head.
“Clearly there was a shortage of fig leaves in Rome during the sixteenth century,” he said mildly, but she could hear the laughter in his voice. “No wonder they don’t admit children below the age of ten in here. It’s a veritable den of iniquity. Mister Franks should post a warning for ladies of a nervous disposition.”
“Indeed, he should,” Camille said lightly. “He can’t want impressionable young debutantes fainting all over his museum. Come along, Emmy. I think we should go and look at something a little less … stimulating. Fossils, perhaps. Or rocks.”
Harland gave them a polite bow. “In that case, ladies, I shall leave you to your visit. Good day.”
Emmy bobbed a curtsey. As Harland walked away, the click of his boot heels echoing down the hall, she realized her knees were shaky. She took a deep, calming breath through her nose and exhaled through her mouth.
She and Camille mounted the stairs and made their way to the rocks and minerals section. She knew the way; she’d memorized the route.
The diamond, along with other examples of precious and semiprecious stones, was housed in a solid oak display cabinet. It would have been too heavy for two people to move, even if it hadn’t been bolted to the floor. Emmy leaned over so her nose almost touched the top of the display case. Her breath fogged up the glass as she spoke.
“Why was Harland here? It cannot be a coincidence. If he’s made the connection between the Rundell and Bridge diamond and this one”—she pressed her gloved finger onto the glass above the sparkling gem—“then we are in serious trouble. If he knows which jewels the Nightjar is stealing, then all he has to do is set a trap and—”
Camille bent to study a crystalline geode beside her. “I expect Bow Street is merely warning anyone who houses expensive jewels to be on alert.”
“I don’t like it,” Emmy said. “We should put it off for another week until interest dies down.”
“You know we can’t do that. The fact that Monsieur Danton has decided to show himself to us, or at least to Sally, is not a good sign. He could have continued to blackmail us perfectly well by letter. He could have collected the jewels without any of us ever seeing his face. I do not think we should disregard his command for urgency. I think he could prove an extremely unpleasant man.”
Emmy sighed, acknowledging that as the truth.
“Besides, everything is ready for tomorrow night,” Camille murmured soothingly. “Mister Franks has agreed to meet Sally at the White Lion at five o’clock. You know the floor plan by heart. The delivery’s all set up.” She patted her reticule. “And I have another delicious treat for Brutus, when we pass by the gardens. He’s such a sweetheart.”
“He weighs the same as me,” Emmy grumbled. “And he’s slobbery.”
Camille gave a wistful sigh. “Oh, darling. If I were twenty years younger, I’d come with you.”
“You’d probably be better than me.”
Her grandmother had nerves of steel. Nothing flustered her. She could stare people out of countenance at the drop of a hat. Whereas Emmy quite often veered between elation and terror, between resentment that such a career had been forced upon her, and resignation that stealing the jewels was, morally at least, the right thing to do.
If she were perfectly honest, she often experienced a thoroughly wicked rush of pleasure from robbery too. Instead of feeling guilty, she felt a confusing delight in the danger and excitement, at least once it was all over. It was the thrill of a job well done. The gleeful sense of getting away with it.
Perhaps she was more like her father than she’d thought.
Camille gazed down at the grey-blue gemstone between them, and her expression softened. “I remember this before it was cut down, you know. It used to be twice