once more rose in an accusatory fashion. “That’s my necklace!” Surging forward, she snapped it from his grasp.
“But I didn’t steal it!” Pierce stressed, then looked from the agitated lady to Hawthorne. “Someone must have planted this necklace on me in order to frame me for this crime.” His gaze moved to Coleridge. “I suspect it was you,” he said loud and clear, “as you seemed to know even better than me where to find it.”
Coleridge laughed. “That’s preposterous. All I meant to accomplish by suggesting you empty your pockets was to prove your innocence.” He sighed rather theatrically as though the outcome had truly surprised and saddened him. “It pains me to see that a member of the peerage is capable of such a heinous deed. Lady Brockton, you have my full sympathies.”
“It wasn’t me,” Pierce gritted out, not knowing what else to say. He had no proof, only his word, and judging from the accusatory stares of those crowding around him, it wasn’t worth much at the moment.
“That is easy to say,” Coleridge hastened to exclaim. “However, I’m afraid the evidence is too damning. So unless there is someone here who can verify your whereabouts last night, there is nothing—”
“I can verify his whereabouts.”
At the sound of Caroline’s voice, clear and strong, Pierce closed his eyes, touched that she would sacrifice herself to save him, knowing that after tonight her life would be in ruins.
Chapter Forty-Five
A Fearless Woman
Caroline barely noticed the words slipping from her lips. She had not meant to say them, but neither did she regret that they had been spoken. Her parents, of course, were of a different opinion, and out of the corners of her eyes, Caroline saw them turn pale, reaching out a hand to the other to steady themselves as the shock of her revelation slammed into them.
“I can verify his whereabouts,” she repeated as her feet carried her forward, her eyes fixed on Pierce, standing tall to defend himself as Coleridge circled him like a rabid dog. She had noticed the faces of the crowd change from shock to anger to outrage, the look in their eyes damning, their minds made up by the evidence presented to them. Now, however, she saw jaws drop and eyes widening. She heard hushed whispers and felt accusing stares.
Never had the world noticed her and, now, no one would ever forget her name. In an odd way, Caroline could not help but feel proud, and a small smile curved her lips as she stepped up to Pierce’s side.
This was her choice.
Her moment.
And she would do what she deemed right.
“Miss Hawkins?” Lady Brockton whispered almost breathlessly, the look in her pale eyes one of sheer incredulity.
Caroline drew in a slow breath, then looked back at Pierce, his eyes dark and apologetic as he moved to her side. “You shouldn’t have done this,” he whispered low enough only for her to hear. “You don’t. Simply take back—”
“No,” Caroline cut him off, then turned to Lord Hawthorne, giving Coleridge a sideways glance that made him flinch. “My lord, I can verify Lord Markham’s whereabouts. He was indeed at the masquerade last night.”
Lord Hawthorne paled slightly, obviously uncomfortable with her story. “Are you certain, Miss?” His gaze was kind, and Caroline knew that he was trying to give her a way out, a way to save herself by recanting.
“How would you know?” Coleridge demanded before Caroline could say another word, a vile sneer contorting his otherwise handsome features. “You only seek to protect him. However, your lies—”
“I’m not lying!” Caroline snapped at him. “I know because I was there.” Her gaze moved around the crowd, certain that most of them had attended last night’s event as well. “I was the lady in red with the pearl mask.” Gasps echoed around the room, confirming Caroline’s suspicions. “I’m certain that those who attended will remember me.” Her gaze moved to Lady Brockton and, for a long moment, the two women looked at one another.
Long ago, Caroline had managed to gain the matron’s approval, and so Lady Brockton had invited her into her inner circle, thus unknowingly given her the opportunity to influence influential ladies of the ton in order to aid those who needed her help. Never had Lady Brockton had reason to think less of Caroline, and now here they stood, both facing secrets they’d thought would never be revealed.
After all, Lady Brockton had been at the masquerade as well, her face hidden behind a feathery, blue mask. Would she