Page 81 of One Wicked Secret
Daniel’s pulse soared at the prospect of confronting Charmers. The rogue would pay for stealing his cargo and hurting his men. “Rest assured. I’ll get the truth from Charmers.”
“As for the other matter,” Hawthorne said, handing Elsa the black velvet box, “this belongs to you, my dear.”
“Me?” Elsa’s hand trembled slightly as she accepted the gift. She opened the lid carefully, surprised to find a gilt-framed miniature inside. “Who are they?” she said, studying the image of a handsome couple holding a babe.
“As for that, I have no clue.”
Elsa jerked. “Did my father not say?”
“Your father left specific instructions.” Hawthorne did not need to consult his notes or rummage through the file. “That is a priceless heirloom, one you must protect with your life. Under no circumstances are you to show it to anyone, not even your brother, until the time is right.”
Elsa wrinkled her nose. “The time is right for what?”
“Who can say? But your father said you will know.”
“Then why have you disobeyed your client and shown me the portrait?” Daniel said.
Hawthorne smiled. “Mr Tyler must have possessed a fortune teller’s insight. He instructed me not to give his daughter the miniature unless she had married you, Mr Dalton.”
Chapter Fifteen
The Burnished Jade
Aldgate Street, London
“I can picture it now.” Joanna, Countess of Berridge, gathered her friends in a small circle and lowered her voice. “A gown of deep crimson, its full skirts sweeping the floor. The soft swish of silk when you move.”
Clara swallowed, unable to contain her excitement. “With gold embroidery tracing the bodice like delicate filigree.”
Elsa glanced around the elegant drawing room, relieved the men were deep in conversation. “No one else must know it’s you, Clara.”
“And you must wear a matching mask,” Olivia said with enthusiasm—quite the change from her usual wistful mood. “One adorned with feathers and pearls that draws attention to your pretty lips.”
Clara pressed her fingers briefly to her mouth. “I could wear rouge the colour of my gown. No one will suspect it’s me.” But then her beaming smile faltered and died. “Of course they will. When they look into my eyes and notice the scar, it will be obvious who I am.”
“What are scars but one’s story etched into flesh?” Olivia said, her opinion reflecting a love of the graveyard poets. “To me, it’s a mark of survival. But I suppose that doesn’t matter if you wish to remain incognito.”
“I have an idea,” Joanna said, clutching Clara’s hand to reassure her. “We will have a mask made of red velvet and gold leaf, designed to shield one eye. It will be fastened with crimson ribbon, hiding the scar that slashes across your brow.”
“So I will be able to see?”
“Of course. We’re the only ones who will know The Crimson Contessa’s identity.”
“The Crimson Contessa,” Clara mused aloud.
“It will be the perfect illusion,” Elsa said, thrilledthey’d found a solution. She hated the thought of Clara living alone at The Grange and prayed she found the courage to remain in town.
Clara had other doubts. “The masquerade is next week. Is there time to craft such a masterpiece?”
“You forget I made money as a seamstress when I opened The Jade. And my sister-in-law is a famed modiste. We will work together to ensure the gown is ready in time.”
Clara’s lips parted on a breathless smile. “I cannot thank you enough. It must sound foolish, but I’m tired of hiding in the shadows.”
“It doesn’t sound foolish at all,” Elsa said. It was a dream come true. “The masquerade will be your night of freedom. Anight to do as you please.” She hesitated. “Within reason, of course. I shall be your secret chaperone.”
The sudden clang of a distant gong was a signal to gather in the music room. The men approached, ready to escort them to their seats.
“Are you reciting poetry tonight, Miss Woolf?” Lord Rothley said. His midnight eyes held a spark of intrigue as he glanced at Olivia’s fiery red hair. “Or will you sing something rousing?”
