Always a Princess by Alice Gaines Page A

own. A nearly perfect crystal, the diamond was almost as large as her fist, as Wesley had said before. She’d expected something clear and colorless like glass, but although she could see right through the stone to Wesley’s hand, it had a lovely color—halfway between lemon and honey.
    Wesley stared at it with obvious reverence in his gaze. “The Wonder of Basutoland. Magnificent.”
    “Yes,” Eve whispered.
    He lifted the stone, holding it first against her throat and then her cheek. “It picks up the color of your skin,” he said. “The exact hue of your eyes.”
    She stared back into his face and found golden flecks in his eyes, the same hue of the diamond. His lips parted as she studied him, and his cheeks flushed. The air suddenly seemed to take on a charge—as though lightning had recently passed through. Was the diamond charmed somehow?
    Dear God, such fancies. Here she sat, just waiting to be caught with a duke’s diamond held up to her face. “We’ve found it. Now, let’s get out of here.”
    Wesley shook himself gently. “Right. Hand me the orchid, will you?”
    The orchid, the orchid. Oh, yes. On the desk. She rose and retrieved it, finally handing it to Wesley where he knelt in front of the safe. He exchanged boxes—placing the flower into the diamond’s box and vice versa. He put the box now holding the orchid, still opened, into the safe and closed the other box around the gem and slipped it into his pocket. He left the safe open.
    “The deed is done,” he said. “Check to see if anyone’s in the corridor.”
    Eve tiptoed to the door and pressed her ear against it. When she heard nothing, she opened it a crack and listened again. Finally, she stuck her head outside and glanced up and down the hallway. “No one here.”
    “Good,” Wesley said from right behind her.
    Eve jumped and turned. Somehow, Wesley had managed to sneak up behind her and now stood no more than a foot away. So close that his breath played over her cheek.
    “Don’t do that,” she ordered.
    “Do what?”
    “Come up on me like that. I don’t like being startled.”
    “I’d be happy to explore your likes and dislikes later,” he said. “But right now, we ought to make our escape, don’t you think?”
    “Yes,” she said. “Finally.”
    He gestured toward the door. “After you.”
     
    Nearly half an hour had passed, and Eve had finally started to feel secure when a cry rang out from the direction of the study. Lady Farnham, the Orchid Thief’s own mother, came running—none too steadily—into the ballroom, clutching her bosom with one hand. In her other hand, she held the white orchid.
    “Oh, dear heaven,” she gasped. “Someone help me.”
    “Mother,” Wesley cried and rushed to her side. Eve followed. Lady Farnham had obviously stumbled upon their handiwork, and Eve needed to hear every detail the woman had to impart—if only out of morbid fascination at having the theft discovered while she was still on the premises.
    Wesley slid an arm around his mother, who leaned in to his chest for support.
    “Someone find a chair,” he ordered.
    A cluster of blue bloods gathered around Lady Farnham, and one of them produced a seat. Wesley lowered his mother into it, while she fanned herself with the orchid and rolled her eyes as if about to swoon.
    “How perfectly ghastly,” she said. “How terrifying. I may never survive the shock.”
    “What on earth is wrong, Mother?” Wesley said. “What happened?”
    “Isn’t it obvious?” she said, waving the flower in her son’s face. “That dreadful Orchid Thief has been here.”
    “Are you sure?” Wesley asked.
    “Concentrate, Philip,” his mother said. “I went to the duke’s study, looking for you, and I found this in the duke’s safe. Why would His Grace keep an orchid in his safe?”
    An audible gasp rose from the crowd, along with tsk-tsks and loud clucking of tongues. This was probably the most excitement any of them would have all