How to Steal a Thief's Heart - Bree Wolf Page 0,78

the part of her that was already busy listing all the things that could and were most likely to go wrong. “We need to find witnesses. I know it’s been two years, but there must be someone who remembers seeing Lord Coleridge that day. Where he was. When he and his friends set out. In what direction. Who they were.” She drew in a deep breath, hoping that all this was not merely wishful thinking. “We need witnesses.”

Sarah frowned. “We? What do you mean ‘we’? You don’t intend to help him, do you?”

Caroline shrugged. “We didn’t truly talk about how to proceed but I simply—”

“That, I believe,” Sarah snapped, once more fingering Caroline’s ripped collar where a number of buttons were missing, in all likelihood never to be seen again. “It looks as though you didn’t do much talking at all.” One corner of her mouth quirked upward, and a teasing gleam came to her eyes as she gently elbowed Caroline in the side. “Was it worth it?” she whispered then. “Was he?”

Swallowing, Caroline nodded. Although she had been shocked to learn that men like Lord Coleridge existed, did the things they did without thought, without mercy, she could not deny that it felt wonderful to know the depth of Pierce’s compassion, his devotion and deep sense of justice. Granted, he’d chosen a questionable way to balance the scales, but his heart was in the right place.

There was such good in him and, therefore, in the world as well, wasn’t there? It was a comforting thought.

Two days passed without a word from anyone. Not from Pierce. Or Rebecca. Or Lord Coleridge—who had promised Caroline’s father to return his niece unscathed. Her parents were livid. While her father yelled and ranted, mostly locking himself away in his study, her mother had taken to pacing the drawing room floor.

Up and down.

Up and down.

All day.

Caroline felt she was going mad, mostly because she worried about Pierce and what he might do. Of course, she would have loved to hear from her cousin. However, Pierce had assured her that Lord Pembroke truly loved Rebecca and would see to her safety.

And Caroline trusted him. How or when it had happened she could not say, but she trusted him. More than once, he’d proven himself to be an honorable man—perhaps not in the strictest sense, but in the one that mattered to her. He’d always kept his word, always been there for her, always done his utmost to help her, to help the orphanage. And she felt safe with him.

Always had.

Even from the start.

And then the next day, Caroline’s world was turned upside down when she learned that Lord Coleridge was expected for supper.

The smile slipped off her face, and she had trouble reassuring her mother that she was, indeed, all right. She didn’t feel all right. Not since the night Pierce had informed her of Lord Coleridge’s true nature had their paths crossed and, for a reason Caroline could not explain, she’d assumed she’d never lay eyes on him again.

“Why is he coming, Mother?” she asked with an ill-concealed croak in her voice. “Rebecca is not…”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed, and her lips thinned in a most disapproving way at the mention of her wayward niece. “He is still a friend, and we must do what we can to make him feel welcome, do you hear?” She reached out and tugged on Caroline’s hair. “Perhaps we ought to try and make you look more…appealing, Dear. All hope cannot truly be lost, can it?” she mumbled as her eyes swept over her daughter.

Caroline felt her breath lodge in her throat as realization found her. “I’m not…pretty enough to catch the attention of a man like…Lord Coleridge,” she objected, almost choking on the man’s name, “even if Rebecca is not here.”

An odd smile tugged on her mother’s lips before she patted Caroline’s shoulders and turned to discuss the supper menu with Cook, a soft hum leaving her lips as she walked away.

Cold shivers ran down Caroline’s back as she realized that her parents hoped to transfer Lord Coleridge’s regard from Rebecca to her.

Panic flared to life at the thought, and Caroline rushed to remind herself that experience had proven time and time again that men simply did not notice her, did not find her appealing in any way. Soon, her breathing calmed and she felt sufficiently reassured that her parents’ hopes would suffer severe disappointment come suppertime.

Oh, how wrong she was!

The second Lord Coleridge walked across the threshold,