Master Thief: A Short Story Belonging to the Lady Emily Capers

By Regina Scott

"So you see, Emily," Priscilla Tate concluded with an airy wave of her graceful hand, "it simply disappeared!"

Lady Emily Southwell, youngest daughter of His Grace the Duke of Emerson, could certainly see that her friend's favorite brooch was missing. Indeed, Priscilla had taken great pains to point repeatedly to the mother-of-pearl box laying empty on her lace-draped dressing table.

"It was right there," Ariadne insisted, nodding her head at the imprint in the box's peach satin lining, which no doubt outlined the ruby brooch. Her soft muslin gown was a similar shade of peach that complimented her light-brown curls. "I've questioned the staff, but no one admits to seeing it."

"It's clearly the work of a master thief," her darker-haired sister Daphne put in, "which is why we called the best."

Emily smiled. She did have a reputation for solving mysteries. But the last two she'd solved had been much more complicated, and dangerous, than a missing brooch.

"Perhaps if you looked through your gowns, Pris," she suggested. "You might find it still pinned on the silk."

Ariadne beamed, giving the reticule at her wrist a swing. "That's what I suggested."

Priscilla's shoulders slumped in her pink muslin gown, and her green eyes filled with tears. "Truly, Emily, I've looked everywhere. I wouldn't be so worried if one of the other pieces was missing." She glanced toward the open door of her room and lowered her voice. "But it's the last one that's still real."

So that was the issue. Priscilla's family had fallen on hard times, and many of their belongings had been sold to pay expenses. Even the little house they had leased for the Season was furnished with castoffs from their relatives.

Emily thought Priscilla had chosen the best of the lot. Her four-poster bed was polished mahogany, and the headboard was carved with smiling winged infants. The wash basin was brilliant blue Sevres porcelain. The pier glass mirror, though tarnished around the edges, was framed in gold-leaf; Emily could see her reflection gazing back, dark tight curls framing her pale face. Still, the sunny room with its yellow silk wall hangings and blue Oriental carpet was hardly crowded. It should have been easy to spot a ruby brooch.

"Think," Emily urged Priscilla. "Where did you last wear it?"

Priscilla bit her full lower lip a moment as if thinking hard. "Perhaps at the Baminger ball?"

Daphne shook her head. "No. You wore your green satin gown and emeralds that night. I remember because that charming Mr. Cunningham remarked on how it brought out the green in your eyes."

"Ah, yes," Priscilla agreed with a fond smile. "Then I must have worn it to the musicale to celebrate the end of Lady Eglantine's bout with gout."

"No," Ariadne said with certainty. "Your décolleté was far too low that night to hold a brooch. Mother remarked on it."

Priscilla rolled her eyes. "The races at Ascot then."

"You borrowed my gray silk walking dress for that," Emily reminded her, "and my pearls. Father remarked on it."

"You see?" Daphne said happily. "Everyone is talking about you!"

Priscilla smoothed a golden curl back from her perfect face. "I told you we'd be the talk of London once we came out."

That they were. Could their newfound fame have attracted a thief in addition to the beaux they had been expecting?

Emily turned to Daphne. "Check under the dressing table. Ariadne, you take the bed. The brooch might have fallen."

Daphne obligingly dropped to her knees in a puddle of saffron muslin and peered under the furniture. "Not here."

Ariadne wandered to the bed and lifted the skirt to gaze underneath. "Not here either."

Priscilla twisted her cameo ring about her finger. "What am I to do?" she all but wailed. "Mother will be beside herself, and Father will despair. He was counting on that brooch for next quarter's lease money! We'll all be sent to rot in Debtor's Prison, and I'll shall have to marry the jailor's son so we can eat!"

Emily frowned at her. Surely a missing brooch couldn't bring about such dire circumstances. She noted the fluttering fingers on the hand Pris had pressed to her brow, the flushed skin, the trembling lips. Something was definitely wrong, but she had a feeling it had nothing to do with the brooch.

What was going on?

Just when Lady Emily was about to question her friend further about the mysteriously missing brooch, she heard a noise behind her.

"Perhaps I can help," said a warm male voice.

Emily whirled, pulse pounding. James Cropper stood in the doorway of Priscilla's sunny bedchamber. His russet hair was for once combed in place, his brown jacket and breeches looked as if they had been recently pressed, and his cravat was tied in an elegant knot. But what truly drew her eyes was the smile curving his mouth. It was positively wicked. The questions dried in Emily's throat.

Her three friends seemed similarly affected, for no one said anything for five full ticks of the enameled clock on the mantel. Then Daphne picked up her saffron skirts and hurried to greet him.

"Oh, Mr. Cropper, thank you for coming!" She led him into the room. "See, Emily? I told you we called for the best."

Emily's face heated. Jamie was also good at solving mysteries. She could see why Priscilla might request his services. But her friends could have given Emily a few moments first, if only to tidy her hair!

Priscilla and Ariadne quickly explained the situation to him, and Jamie listened, gaze wandering about the little room as if taking in every detail. Emily noticed that Priscilla left out the part about the brooch being paste and her fears about Debtor's Prison if it weren't found. In fact, Priscilla seemed to have recovered her usual good spirits. Her lovely face was animated, her smile so charming dimples danced on either side of her mouth. Jamie may have come to rescue Priscilla, but Emily had a feeling he was going to be the one who needed rescuing in a moment.

He caught Emily's gaze on him and winked. Emily's face heated once more.

When Priscilla and Ariadne finished their tale, Emily thought Jamie would likely jump into action, but he merely nodded. "I'd wager Lady Emily has a thought or two about the matter."

Her? He was turning it back to her? Her friends looked just as surprised. Jamie's handsome face was expectant. Emily raised her head. "I do, as a matter of fact. We've checked the floor, so it doesn't seem to have fallen. Miss Tate has already looked over her garments, and it doesn't appear to be there."

"I knew it!" Ariadne declared, honey-colored curls bouncing with her insistence. "It's been stolen!"

Daphne nodded sagely, her darker curls moving with similar energy. "And it's obviously the work of a master thief. He knew to take the brooch because . . ."

"It's the best piece," Priscilla put in hurriedly with a look to Daphne. "Who knows what else he might take!" She lay a hand on Jamie's arm and gazed up at him, green eyes liquid. "Oh, please, Mr. Cropper. You must help us!"

Emily wanted to reach out, grab Jamie's arm, and pull him safely to her side. But perhaps it was best merely to send him to safety. "I don't think we need trouble Mr. Cropper, Priscilla. Surely we can handle this."

"It's no trouble," Jamie said with a smile to Emily.

That's what every boy said when the golden-haired Priscilla started flirting. Clearly more drastic steps were necessary. Emily took a step toward them. As if Priscilla saw the fire in her eyes, she dropped her hold on Jamie's arm.

"I was hoping you might work with Mr. Cropper, Emily," Priscilla pleaded. "You understand me so well. With your artist's eye, you see things I miss."

Emily narrowed her eyes. "And what will you be doing?" Priscilla's hand drifted back to her brow. "Oh, I must lie down for a restorative nap."

Ariadne stepped to her side, switching her reticule to the other hand so she could put an arm about Priscilla's waist. "This whole incident has sorely tried her, poor dear. I'll just stay to keep her company." She gazed pointedly at her sister.

"Oh." Daphne hurried to their sides. "I'd better stay as well in case you need anything." She waved a hand at Emily and Jamie. "You too run along and have a good . . ."

"Investigation," Ariadne finished. "Have a very successful investigation. It should take you all over London: the dark alleys, the hidden byways. Very likely it will take some time."

"Days," Daphne said with a nod.

Jamie's gaze met Emily's, and she could see the future in those smoky eyes. "Perhaps weeks," he said, smile curving up.

Weeks? Wandering all over London with the handsome Jamie at her side? Incredible!

Without a chaperone? Unthinkable! But she certainly didn't want to share him with her aunt Lady Minerva.

Emily eyed Daphne. "Surely Lord Snedley would protest."

Daphne paled at the mention of the famous master of etiquette. "Well, Lord Snedley has occasionally been wrong."

"Don't say that in public!" Ariadne demanded, turning to her sister so quickly that her reticule thumped Daphne on the hip. Daphne grimaced.

And in that moment Emily knew exactly what had happened. She knew where the brooch had gone and why. And she knew what she must do now.

She turned to Jamie. "I believe we have a great deal to discuss, Mr. Cropper. Will you meet me tomorrow at three in Hyde Park, on the bridge over the Serpentine?"

He gazed down at her, smile as soft as the touch of a feather. "Your servant, Lady Emily. Until later."

Emily felt so warm she could have melted right into the Oriental carpet. "Until later."

He bowed over her hand, holding it in his strong grip for longer than was proper, then turned to go. Emily knew everyone in the room could hear her sigh.

But as soon as he was out the door, she turned to her wide-eyed friends.

"That," she said, "was entirely too easy."

Priscilla tossed her golden curls. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Emily strode to their sides. "I think you do. Why is your reticule so heavy, Ariadne?"

Ariadne clutched the embroidered cloth bag to her chest. "My reticule? Why, because of my journal, of course."

"Really," Emily said. She pointed to the round bulge near the bottom. "And has your journal taken to wearing jewelry?"

Ariadne slumped, dropping the bag to the length of its cord.

"I told you we should have hidden it," Daphne said.

"Yes, well, I wasn't taking any chances," Priscilla said. "It is my best piece." She held out her hand, palm up, and Ariadne fished out the brooch and handed it to her.

"Are you furious with us?" Ariadne asked Emily sheepishly.

Emily glared at the three of them. Priscilla was once more biting her lip, Daphne was shifting her weight from side to side so that her saffron skirts swung like a bell, and Ariadne was loosening and tightening the cord on her reticule as if even her fingers heated in embarrassment.

Emily broke into a grin. "How could I be angry? I know why you did it and what was at stake. Priscilla risked her brooch, Ariadne her reputation for knowing what's what, and Daphne her right to be the adventurous one just so I might have an excuse to spend a few moments with Mr. Cropper. Could anyone ever have such dear friends?"

Ariadne and Daphne blushed at her praise. Priscilla simply shook her head. "Yet you spoiled it. Now you have no reason to meet Mr. Cropper."

Emily's grin widened. "Why not? Mr. Cropper doesn't know the brooch is found."

Priscilla smiled. "I've taught you well."

Emily laughed. "Well enough. I'll tell him tomorrow, after we've had a nice walk in the park."

Ariadne nodded. "Excellent strategy. Now, on to more important matters." She leaned in and beckoned them all closer. "It will take a master thief to steal Mr. Cropper's heart. Whatever will you wear?"

The Lady Emily Capers, by Regina Scott: