‘We are conspiring to subvert the law,’ Cris said. He was still holding her hand. ‘But I think this is justice. We cannot be certain Chelford would be convicted in court—it would be the word of a habitual criminal against a peer of the realm.’
‘But we have got to convince him that it will go to trial, that he will be convicted,’ Gabriel said. ‘Then we can reluctantly offer him a way out and he should snatch at it.’
‘It’s a plan,’ Cris agreed. ‘And this is what we will do on the night—’
‘But not Tess,’ Alex said.
‘Alex, I am not ill,’ his wife protested. ‘It is a perfectly normal state of affairs.’
‘You’ve news for us?’ Gabriel asked with a grin.
Tess blushed, but nodded. Gabriel got up and shook Alex’s hand, but Cris, to Tamsyn’s surprise, went to Tess and bent and kissed her cheek. ‘Can I hope to be a godfather?’
‘Of course!’ Tess laughed.
Gabriel took Cris’s seat and leant towards Tamsyn. ‘Cris is as soft as butter over children. You wouldn’t think it, would you? He’s going to make an excellent father.’
‘Yes,’ Tamsyn said, a growing hollowness below her diaphragm. ‘I am sure he will.’ Why was she upset? She had known all along he was not for her. Why should this revelation hurt so much? Perhaps she had been harbouring ridiculous dreams after all, she thought drearily. And all the time she had told herself she was being realistic and keeping control of her emotions.
Cris reclaimed his seat and she pulled herself together. ‘I know what to do about the paintings, if we can’t get Franklin out of the country. When we meet at the reception he will want to know why I am in London. I will tell him and while he is reeling from that, you men can spring your trap.’
‘Tell us,’ Cris said. ‘Then we can weave our noose.’
*
Tess had planned a glittering reception with an orchestra in the gallery of their town house, masses of flowers and greenery in every corner, card tables set out in one room and little sitting areas scattered throughout to allow for intimate conversations.
The staff were hurrying back and forth, setting out the buffet tables, when Tamsyn arrived ea
rly to find Cris waiting for her.
‘You look like a mermaid,’ he said as he drew her into an alcove screened by a vast display of ferns and orchids. He studied her gown of sea-green silk with a mass of white net foaming over it and an edging of tiny pearls and little shells made of mother of pearl. His eyes darkened, his lids lowered with what she was all too aware was arousal and she found herself short of breath in the confined space.
‘That was rather the idea,’ she confessed. ‘I simply could not resist it when I saw the fabric and the trimming.’
Cris reached out and trailed one ungloved fingertip along the edge of the scooped neckline, over the curve of her breasts. He made no attempt to delve beneath it, or to pull her closer, but the gesture was both possessive and provocative.
‘You will spoil my concentration,’ she murmured. ‘I need all my wits about me tonight.’ It was difficult not to sway towards him, to beg with her body for his hands, his mouth.
‘Come, then, see what we have arranged.’ He led her to a little grouping of chairs. ‘That is the door to the card room just there. We are certain Chelford will make directly for it when he arrives—it is his normal pattern of behaviour. You will be seated here, talking to Gabriel, who will inevitably gather a small group around him. He appears to have a magnetic attraction for a certain kind of young lady and for rakish young men who wish they were just like him.’
‘He is very attractive,’ Tamsyn said, with deliberate intent to provoke.
‘I know,’ Cris said grimly. ‘There should be a law against it, at least according to most anxious mothers.’
‘You are very attractive, too,’ she conceded, still in a teasing tone, meaning every word.
‘I am exceedingly respectable, boringly eligible, debt-free and apparently sober, most of the time. I could have the looks of a horse as far as the ambitious mothers are concerned.’
He probably has to beat the fluttering debutantes off with sticks, Tamsyn thought, suddenly plunged into gloom.
‘Anyway, you are seated here, facing the way he will come. Even if he doesn’t recognise you and react, you will see him. Call him over with no sign that you’ve the slightest suspicion of him, drop your bombshell about the pictures and one of two things will happen. Either he’ll make a scene, in which case Gabriel and I will get hold of him and steer him out of the room, which will make an unfortunate, but hopefully small, disturbance. It will be better if he is thrown into confusion by your revelation and so distracted that we can quietly cut him out as he goes into the card room and get him away without a fuss.’
‘And the Bow Street Runner and Goode are here?’
‘Yes, with Sir Peter Hughes, a magistrate, behind a screen with another Runner on guard.’
She nodded, as much to quiet the butterflies in her stomach as to reassure Cris that she had it all clear.