When a Rogue Meets His Match - Elizabeth Hoyt Page 0,123

admire King’s methods. There was nothing like the inevitable rivalries to drive up the value of what one was selling.

Not that she was planning on bidding on anything.

Adeline continued her stroll, casually examining each piece that lay beneath the glass surfaces. She passed a pearl the size of a sparrow’s egg, dangling from a chain of lesser pearls interspersed with tiny diamonds. In the next case, a tiara boasting a row of brilliant emeralds sparkled. Beyond that a constellation of rubies blazed where they were nestled in a gold brooch fit for royalty. Adeline continued until she reached the end of the row, each case holding something of extraordinary beauty and extraordinary value.

But what she had come for was not there.

Hiding a frown, she pulled the invitation from one of the pockets concealed in the layers of her skirts and examined the detailed list that had been printed on the back. The lot number was there, along with an abbreviated description, though as Adeline read, she realized that it was not the only thing missing from the ballroom. Two diamonds of almost incomprehensible size—and value—were also absent.

“Dammit,” Adeline muttered under her breath, replacing her invitation. Frustration and annoyance pricked. She should have anticipated that prizes like these would not be left exposed to the hordes. They would be presented at the time that bidding would begin, for there would be few who could afford such a competition. What she needed to do now was determine where they were being held.

Adeline pivoted and threaded her way back out toward the hall. A knot of men moved into her path, speaking in low tones and making notations in small notebooks. She skirted them, careful not to rush and draw attention to herself. The jewels would be out of sight but close. Somewhere they could be easily fetched and transported into the ballroom once the bidding started.

Adeline entered the hall and stopped before the hearth, pretending to study the dragon and the maiden doing her best to vanquish it. Liveried servants continued to scurry and toil as more people arrived, disappearing and reappearing through doors at the front and rear of the hall.

On the far side of the long hall, opposite the ballroom, past the activity and where the shadows set everything into gloom, a different door opened, and one of King’s armed men emerged. He had a hatchet-like face, a heavy brow shadowing a forbidding expression. He pulled the door closed smartly behind him and locked it, tucking the key into his coat pocket. Adeline kept her eyes on the painting as he strode toward her, heading purposefully in the direction of the ballroom. As he reached her, she stepped backward, stumbling into him. The guard cursed as he steadied her, champagne sloshing over the rim of her glass and onto his sleeve.

Adeline let out a convincing gasp.

“My apologies, my lady,” the guard said, his expression changing from forbidding to uncomfortable. “Are you hurt?”

“No, no,” she breathed. “Merely embarrassed.”

The guard’s discomfort turned to obvious, almost comical, relief. Clearly he had braced himself for a scathing tirade. “Can I get you something?” he asked, brushing at his damp sleeve.

“No, I’m quite fine, thank you.” Adeline glanced around her, but no one was paying any attention. “I’ll just take a moment.”

“You’re sure?”

“Quite.” She nodded. “Please, carry on.”

The guard gave her a brief nod and hurried away. Adeline watched him disappear into the ballroom and turned on her heel. Without looking left or right, she crossed the hall, palming the key she had lifted from his pocket. She wasn’t sure how long she had before he realized that it was gone.

She reached the door and unlocked it as though she had every right to be there. She could, for all she knew, be stealing into a linen closet, but it was worth the risk of investigating, for no one, in her experience, ever locked up the linens. She lifted the latch, pushing the door inward. No one shouted, no one hurried toward her. Adeline simply stepped through the door, pulling it quietly closed. And then blinked at her surroundings.

It appeared to be a study of sorts and, as in the hall, a fire burned in a wide hearth, lending heat and a warm glow to the room. The light bounced off the spines of hundreds of books, neatly arranged on towering bookshelves that covered an entire wall. On the other walls, hung on a background of rich, red paper, was a collection of portraits and