The Secret Life of Lady Julia by Lecia Cornwall

her , Donovan? Did you look at her?”
    “Too old to seduce, if that’s what you mean.” His face hardened. “She should stay out of such places if she wants to keep her jewelry.”
    Thomas shut his eyes and wondered what the necklace meant to her. Perhaps it was a memento of happier times, the one thing she could not bear to pawn or sell, or the last thing she had to save her if she did have to sell it.
    “There are other ways,” he said, looking at Donovan as if seeing him for the first time. Once, he’d been a respectable young man, a servant who worked his way up from footman to valet, held himself and others in high esteem. What the hell had happened? Thomas felt a pang of guilt. He’d happened. Donovan had wanted to stand by him, even knowing the truth, proud of the fact that even under impossible circumstances, Thomas had acted with honor. He realized he hadn’t seen admiration in his valet’s eyes for a very long time. Did either of them have any honor left?
    Donovan’s puzzled expression suddenly cleared and he grinned. “Oh, I understand. You want to do it honorably , remain a gentleman.”
    Yes, Thomas thought, hope surging.
    “There are richer folks, with better jewels, right?”
    Hope sank to the cobbles and died. No. He felt helpless. How else could they survive, make their way out of this life? Would it be easier to take advantage—steal—from someone who could better afford to lose their jewels? What of gems that had been in a family for generations and were irreplaceable? Why did that bother him now? He’d taken his share of his mother’s jewels when he left, sold them without a qualm, relishing the revenge, knowing Joanna would not dare to report them stolen.
    The ability to steal without qualms had ended with Julia Leighton. He pictured her at the ball, glittering under the weight of her mother’s heirloom jewelry. He hadn’t been able to take them from her, not then, and not after he realized what he’d done. She was more than the jewels. She was a creature of grace. She had not blamed him for what happened between them. She had let him go with dignity, though he’d taken the most valuable jewel of all. Since that night, he hadn’t been able to steal anything without a twinge of conscience. He found himself hesitating more and more often, wondering what the jewels meant to the lady who wore them.
    For some women, jewels simply marked them as their husband’s possession. They were badges of ownership, and if lost, the lady faced the wrath of the giver. Like Joanna, and like Julia’s father.
    Some—the luckiest ones—wore jewels given to them with love. Those jewels were part of who the lady was, something she wore often, whether it matched her outfit or not, because it was a symbol of a deep emotion. If lost, the sentiment would forever remain, and the missing jewel thought of merely with regret.
    And there were, of course, women who wore jewels they had earned. They let their gazes flick over the necklaces and diamond bracelets of other females, calculating the worth of those gems compared to their own, imagining what their rivals had done for such a prize. Those jewels served as surety for a comfortable old age.
    And which of these women deserved most to be preyed upon, to lose her jewels to a man like him?
    “The Emperor’s ball is next week,” Donovan was saying, rubbing his hands together. “Aye, that’s it—just a few big stones, some really fine ones, and we’ll be set. All we need are the invitations, and I’ve no doubt you can arrange those. I’ll find the buyer.”
    A few big stones—perhaps a ruby or two, or an emerald, or a diamond of flawless quality. The kings and queens of Europe were all here, with their jewels. State jewels, not personal ones. It would make it easier, wouldn’t it? And he’d become good at it. His victims never knew until he was long gone. How many times had a lady accused her maid of losing a precious earring, or blamed her for not