Emmy hadn’t visited her parents’ graves for months. It took her a little while to locate them, even in the pale morning light.
The grass was wet with dew. A few tendrils of mist snaked eerily around the tombstones as she unfolded the rug she’d brought with her and sat. She wasn’t afraid; the dead couldn’t hurt her. Only the living could do that. And besides, at this hour, there were only a few servants and tradesmen about in the streets. No one would bother her.
She leaned forward and placed a tiny bunch of violets on each grave—the little purple petals were already drooping.
She hadn’t slept since she’d stolen the jewels from the coach and galloped away on Alex’s magnificent Arabian stallion. She’d gone to the one place she, Luc, and Sally had always agreed she would go in just such an emergency: the lodgings of Sally’s actress friend Molly O’Keene.
Molly’s small apartment was, ironically, less than a quarter mile from Bow Street, conveniently near Covent Garden and Drury Lane, but it was a world away from the refinement of St. James’s Square. It was the perfect place to hide—under Harland’s very nose.
Molly hadn’t asked any questions when Emmy had arrived close to midnight, her hair a tangled mess from her wild gallop, her cheeks red from the wind. She’d welcomed her inside, summoned a lad she trusted to deliver Bey back to the Tricorn without being accosted, and had shown Emmy upstairs to a cramped but comfortable attic room.
Emmy had collapsed on the small truckle bed, her body exhausted but her mind spinning. So many schemes. Her brain was practically bursting with them. She’d lain awake, trying to sort through all the endless permutations of what to do next. Dawn had found her no closer to an answer, but she’d been seized by the need to come here, to her father and mother, for clarity.
Father had been very specific about where he wanted to be buried, next to her mother, here in this quiet London churchyard. Emmy sighed. Her parents had loved one another deeply. Her mother had died trying to bring her younger brother into the world, and while Emmy could barely remember her, perhaps her father’s decision to become the Nightjar had been an understandable way for him to channel his grief and frustration at the loss of his beloved wife into something positive. It had given him something to live for, just as planning the heists had sustained Luc during his long convalescence.
Emmy settled the tin box on her knees and lifted the lid. The jewels gleamed softly within.
“We did it,” she whispered. “We got them back.” Tears tightened her throat as she tilted the box toward the unresponsive stones. “I wish you could both have been here to see it, but I know you’d be so proud of us. We miss you so much.”
A tear spilled over and trailed down her cheek. She brushed it away. “You know how you always said you wanted us to be happy? Well, I’m not. I thought I would be, once we had the jewels, but to tell you the truth, I’m miserable.”
She glared down at the fortune in her lap, then over at her father’s headstone. “This was your dream, not mine. It was a good dream,” she added hastily. “A noble dream. I don’t blame you for pursuing it. But it wasn’t mine.”
She closed the lid of the box.
“Do you know what my dream was? It was to meet someone who loved me right down to my toes, the way you loved Maman. And do you know the worst thing? I found him. He’s worth more than any treasure I could steal, but I found him too late.”
Emmy wiped the corner of her eye on her sleeve.
Too late.
The French had a word: dépaysement. It described the feeling of not being in your home country. It was similar to homesickness, except with the added disorientation of being strange and foreign, like a fish out of water. That was how she felt now, without Harland. He was her country. The place she most wanted to be. She wanted him with a fierce, soul-deep yearning.
What on earth was she going to do now?
With a cry of anguish, she pushed the box aside and buried her face on her bent knees. Why had she even taken the jewels from the coach? She hadn’t been thinking. It had been a reflex action—steal the gems, escape. It was what she always did.
But to what end? Even with Danton in custody and implicated in the Italian’s death, she couldn’t avoid being punished for the rest of the Nightjar’s crimes. Having the jewels was of no use to her. Alex would simply persecute her family until she returned them. She should have just left them next to Danton and accepted her fate. Now, she’d ruined everything.
The click of the gate and quiet footsteps on the path made her lift her head in panic. But instead of Alex coming to arrest her, it was Camille walking between the rows of neatly tended stones. She was wearing a straw hat with a blue silk ribbon and carrying another equally fetching bonnet in her hands. She smiled fondly when she reached Emmy.
“I thought I’d find you here, darling. I’m glad to see you safe and sound.”
“Have you seen Luc? Harland?”
Camille nodded. “Both of them. Lord Melton escorted your brother home last night. Luc told me what happened with Danton, and Lord Melton seemed under the impression that you might have preceded them to the house. He was most put out when I disabused him of that idea.” She sent Emmy a dry look of understanding. “I assume you followed our contingency plan and went to Sally’s actress friend instead?”
Emmy nodded. “Yes. Are you sure you weren’t followed? I can’t believe Harland didn’t set a watch on the house.”
Camille’s gray eyes twinkled with mischief. “Oh, I’m sure he did. A scruffy-looking lad was lounging around on the corner when I left. The poor thing must have been there all night. But I took a very circuitous route, changed carriages twice on the way here, and swapped hats too, just for good measure.” She flapped the bonnet she held in her hand. “I lost him somewhere around Piccadilly. I must say, Lord Melton does seem rather keen to speak with you. I assume it’s because of that?” She tilted her head toward the box on the grass.
Emmy flipped open the lid to expose the contents, and Camille sighed in rapture.
“Ahh! The Hortensia! And Marie Antoinette’s pearls. How lovely to see them all together again, just as your father wanted. But they have been the cause of much heartache, n’est-ce pas?”
“What are we going to do with them? I don’t even know why I took them again last night.”
Camille shot her a sly sideways glance. “Do you not?” she said softly. “Was it not to prolong the game you have been playing with Lord Melton?”
Emmy scowled. “That would be idiotic. I’m too tired to keep on running. I don’t want to be a fugitive for the rest of my life. But how can I give them over and let Bow Street return them to the fat Prince Regent and the undeserving Lady Carrington?”
“From what Lord Melton told me last night, there might be another option.”
Emmy raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Like what?”
“Well, he didn’t go into detail, but he did suggest that if I were to contact you, I should tell you he had a proposition to make to you. One that doesn’t involve you being prosecuted, and one that would see most of the jewels handed over to the French government.”
Emmy sent her a derisive, disbelieving look. “You don’t think it’s a ruse to get me to give myself up? You think he means it?”
“As a matter of fact, I do,” Camille said pensively. “He said to tell you he trusts you to do the right thing.”
“Ha! That’s rich. He doesn’t trust me as far as he could throw me. Why on earth should I trust him?”
“Because you’re in love with him?”
Emmy dropped her head back onto her knees with a choked sound “Oh, God. I am. It’s awful.”
“Come here, darling.” Camille settled herself on the rug next to her and put her arm around her. Emmy rested her head on her grandmother’s shoulder.
“Do you know the precise moment I knew I was in love with your grandfather?”
Emmy shook her head.
“It was the day I found him hunched over next to an open window, looking at something on the sill. Anthony—your grandfather—glanced up with a guilty start when he heard me enter the room, and his cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink. He angled his body to try to hide whatever he was up to, but when I demanded to know what he was hiding, he moved aside so I could see.”
Emmy lifted her head and Camille smiled in fond reminiscence.
“A bumble bee lay on the sill. It was almost dead, but he’d placed a teaspoon of honey next to it. As we watched, the bee stuck out its little tongue, or antenna, or whatever it is bees have, and started to suck up the honey. Within a minute it had recovered enough to wander around, albeit a little drunkenly. Within two minutes it started to buzz its little wings, and then it was off, into the sky. Anthony was obviously highly embarrassed at having been discovered undertaking such an unmanly task, but the smile he gave me melted my heart. That’s when I knew. He was handsome, of course, and quick-witted, but more than that, he was good-hearted. He was the kind of man who helps grumpy old dowagers across busy streets. I knew then that I would love him forever.”
Camille stroked a lock of Emmy’s hair from her cheek. “This man, Alexander Harland. A blind man could see the attraction between the two of you. He has a handsome face and a strong pair of arms. But you know what they say: ‘handsome is as handsome does.’ What of his heart, Emmeline? What do you think his attitude is toward bees? And grumpy old dowagers?”
“He would give the bee some honey, and the dowager his arm.”
Camille gave a decisive nod. “Well, then. I approve wholeheartedly.”
Emmy managed to snort. “Even if I am in love with him, what does it matter? He doesn’t feel the same way about me. I’m just unfinished business, a criminal who must be brought to heel. I’ve hoodwinked him and hidden things from him since the day I met him.” She gave a watery sigh and squeezed Camille’s hand. “I know I have to face him. But I need a little time. Do you think you can keep him away for a day or two?”
“Of course, darling. Take as much time as you need. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you the other news! Luc and Sally are engaged.”
“They are?”
“Yes. As soon as Lord Melton left last night Luc asked for a private word with Sally. I took one look at his face and knew exactly what he was going to ask her. There’s nothing like a near-miss to put everything in perspective. I’m just surprised he’s taken so long to do it.”
“And she said yes?”
Camille nodded, clearly delighted. “She took some persuading, by all accounts. Said she was too low-born for the likes of him, but he convinced her that was nonsense. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’s talking about buying a boat and taking her sailing around the Greek islands.”
Emmy laughed. “Oh, that’s wonderful! I’m so happy for them both! I wish I could come back home with you now and congratulate them.”
Camille got to her feet and shook out her skirts. “Take a few days to think about whether you trust Harland enough to hear him out. If you don’t, we’ll have to come up with a new plan to spirit both you and the jewels out of the country.”
Emmy was already shaking her head. “I don’t want to be a fugitive for the rest of my life, separated from everyone I love. I know I have to face the consequences of my actions.”
“If you do decide to trust him,” Camille continued, “then you can decide where and when you want to meet him. Send a message to Sally via her friend.”
“All right.”