Anne Stuart Read Free

and the haughty manner. When he and Clarissa Highgate had first tumbled into this darkened bedroom, Alistair had assumed, correctly, that they weren’t the first to make use of its privacy, though he never would have suspected Miss Edgerstone would lift her skirts for anyone outside the marriage bed.
    He lay in bed, lazy, sated, and contemplated his alternatives. He could take the necklace and present it to the heiress, preferably in public, in the presence of her cold stick of a father and the stiff young lordling who’d probably dared to lie between her legs.
    Or he could simply pocket the piece. He had no money—he relied on the generosity of friends and the cachet of his empty title, but there was a limit to how far that would take him, and he was already finding certain demands to be uncomfortably pressing. The necklace would go a way toward meeting those demands, and provide him with a few elegancies. And he had a soul that took a fond delight in elegancies.
    Not for one moment did he consider the third alternative as he lazily dressed once more. The proper thing would be to return the jewels to Miss Edgerstone privately, anonymously. But Alistair MacAlpin had never been interested in being proper. And he needed the money far more than she did.
    He glanced back at the rumpled bed with a wry smile. Clarissa Highgate had been her usual energetic self—one benefit of having a mistress whose husband was more interested in young boys than in his luscious wife. He wondered what she’d think if she realized she’d taken Miss Edgerstone’s place in bed.
    Knowing Clarissa, it would probably amuse her. She was as unencumbered with morals as he was, which made them a perfect match. If she knew of his sudden entry into the world of larceny, she would throw back her head and laugh her rich, deep laugh.
    But he had no intention of telling her. He’d learned young not to trust the female of the species, and Clarissa, for all her cheerful amorality, was capable of a certain ruthless dedication to her own well-being. She was more than likely to throw him to the wolves if she decided it would benefit her.
    The necklace was heavy with the weight of exquisitely cut diamonds and deep topazes. The topazes made Miss Edgerstone look sallow—he was doing her a favor relieving her of the piece.
    The ballroom was still a veritable crush of people when he strolled in a short while later. Miss Edgerstone was nowhere to be seen, but since her swain and her father had disappeared as well, he assumed she’d gone home. He wondered idly who would be blamed for the loss of her jewels. Silly creatures like Miss Edgerstone weren’t the type to accept their own carelessness—she’d most likely turn off her maidservant in a rage.
    Alistair accepted a glass of his host’s excellent claret and examined his soul for any remnants of guilt. He was blissfully free of such a failing. Anyone forced to wait on Miss Edgerstone would be better off seeking a new position.
    “ There you are, Alistair!” Clarissa sauntered up to him, her color high, her mischievous eyes bright with lust. “You disappeared several hours ago, and I thought you might have left.”
    Since he’d disappeared with her, he knew perfectly well she had no such thought, but he smiled coolly. “I felt the need of air, Lady Highgate,” he murmured, taking her slender hand in his. He’d noticed the overlarge diamond early that night, but he’d been far more interested in what her hand had been doing than in how it had been adorned.
    It was a very fine diamond. Doubtless one of Lord Highgate’s guilt presents.
    He met Clarissa’s eyes with a faint smile, and his fingers surreptitiously caressed the hand that bore the diamond. “Next time,” he murmured, “I’ll invite you into the garden with me.”
    Her voice trilled with laughter. “You know I could never do that, Alistair. I have my reputation to think of.”
    She had the reputation of an overeager bitch in heat, but he