That Would Be a Fairy Tale - By Amanda Grange Page 0,48

go to your room, and we will speak of this again in the morning.’

‘Very good, sir.’

Gladys went out, shutting the door behind her.

Leaving Alex to ponder anew the warm and fulfilling emotions that were flooding his breast.

Cicely had looked all over for Alex, but he was nowhere to be found. The orchestra was playing again and people were dancing. She had expected an air of constraint to be hanging over the party, but the opposite had happened. The theft of the necklace had given people something to talk about, and now that the culprit had been found and punished - or so they thought - the guests could enjoy reliving the sensation.

But none of that helped Cicely. She still needed to find Alex and convince him that Gladys had nothing to do with the theft. But she had the feeling that she knew who had been responsible.

At last, being unable to find Alex, she returned to the study in order to tell Gladys that she should go to bed. To her surprise, she found Alex there.

He turned round as she entered the room.

‘Come in, and shut the door.’

Cicely did as he said, preparing herself to stand up for Gladys, but his first words told her that would not be necessary.

‘You have no need to worry,’ he said. ‘I know Gladys is innocent.’

She looked at him in surprise. Then asked, ‘How?’

‘Because,’ he said, ‘I planned tonight’s robbery. Oh, not its execution,’ he hastened to reassure her. ‘But I planned for it to happen. Miss Postlethwaite is - let’s just say, she is a friend of mine - and her necklace was the bait. You see, it is not the first time this has happened, that a valuable piece of jewellery has been stolen at a fashionable gathering.’

‘I know.’ Cicely sighed, and sat down. ‘And I believe I know who the culprit is.’

It was his turn to look surprised. ‘You do?’

She nodded. ‘I can’t prove it, unfortunately, but I believe the thief is the Honourable Martin Goss.’

She saw the blank look of astonishment on his face. Misunderstanding his expression, and thinking that he was astonished at the fact she had accused an Honourable gentleman of being a thief, instead of realizing that he was astonished that she knew the thief’s identity, she went on to explain.

‘A few years ago, I had a Season in London, thanks to the generosity of one of my aunts. I went to stay with her, and we attended many balls and soirées. At one of the soirées a valuable brooch was stolen. It was never recovered. But just before it disappeared I had seen the Honourable Goss bump into the lady who owned it. The next second it had vanished.’

‘The next second, you say?’

‘Yes. You see, I had just been looking at the brooch, and admiring it from a distance. Then Mr Goss bumped into the lady, and when he had excused himself her brooch was no longer there.’

‘And you think he took it?’

‘I am certain of it.’

‘And so am I.’

Briefly, he explained about the theft that had occurred whilst Katie had been in service, and the conclusion of the painful episode.

‘I see.’ Cicely let out a long sigh. ‘So that is why you dislike the landed gentry. Because they treated your sister unfairly, and cast her off without any means of support. No wonder you were so hostile when you came here.’

‘I was wrong to be so. I was judging you on something you had had no part in.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘My only consolation is that you also judged me.’

She said ruefully, ‘You’re right. I did.’

‘Is it really so terrible?’ he asked, suddenly serious. ‘My being a cit?’ His eyes scanned her face, as though he would find the answer written there.

She swallowed. ‘It isn’t terrible at all.’

A wave of relief washed over his face. To break the tension that was rapidly gathering he said with a smile, ‘But you didn’t like me. Admit it. You were as prejudiced against me to begin with as I was against you.’

Cicely shook her head. ‘No. I wasn’t prejudiced. Or, at least, it wasn’t entirely prejudice. It’s true I didn’t have a high opinion of cits - they have no idea of how to behave in the countryside, and they have no sensitivity - but my dislike of you wasn’t based on something someone else had done. I disliked you because of what you yourself had done - or rather, not done.’

He looked at her enquiringly.

‘I