“I’m sorry, Emma,” he apologized immediately. “I should never have said that. I really didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

“It’s all right,” Emma said in a small voice, glancing over her shoulder so she wouldn’t have to look at her cousins while she regained her composure. “While I was talking to the two of you, everything was so, well, normal. I’d almost forgotten to be sad. You just reminded me, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry,” Ned repeated.

“Don’t be. I’m sure I’ll remember to be sad a hundred times before I fall asleep tonight. And I’m sure I’ll remember to be angry a hundred more times. But perhaps, just for now, the two of you can try to help me forget.”

“Right!” Belle said quickly, skipping back to their previous conversation. “You said ‘unless. ’ I think you were devising some sort of plan.”

Emma stared off out the window for a few more moments before finally replying. “Oh yes. Right. Here is what I think we should do.”

Belle and Ned leaned forward expectantly.

“I think we should steal Ned’s voucher.”

“What?” her cousins asked in disbelieving unison.

“If Woodside hasn’t got the voucher, he can’t very well try to collect the debt. And there is no way he can convince anyone that Ned hasn’t paid up if he doesn’t have the voucher to prove it. It’s a beautiful plan.”

“It might work,” Ned said thoughtfully. “When do you want to do it?”

“We’d better start right away. We haven’t got long, and we don’t know how many times we’ll have to try before we find it.”

“How on earth are you going to make sure that he’s not home when you steal it?” Belle asked. “I don’t think he goes out every night. And I certainly don’t know enough about his habits to predict when he would leave if he actually did go out.”

Emma looked her cousin straight in the eye. “That,” she said decisively, “is where you come in.”

Belle recoiled visibly. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Oh, for goodness sake, Belle. I am not asking you to prostitute yourself. All you have to do is send Woodside a flirtatious little note that you are eager to see him at the…” Emma bit her lip and looked upward as she mentally scanned her engagement calendar. “At Lady Mottram’s ball tomorrow night. We already know that he is thoroughly infatuated with you. I haven’t a doubt that he’ll race to meet you there. All you have to do is contrive to keep him entertained for a couple of hours while we slip in and grab the voucher.”

“And how do you propose I do that? He’s probably going to think that Ned has decided to sacrifice my virginity for ten thousand pounds.”

“All the better,” Emma said with a nod. “He definitely won’t leave the ball before you do, then.”

“Just don’t let him drag you out into the garden,” Ned advised.

“Or a balcony,” Emma added. “Balconies are often poorly lit. I’ve heard that quite a bit goes on out there.”

“What should I say when people inquire after the two of you?” Belle asked. “They will, you know. I don’t think I’ve gone to a ball alone all season.”

“You won’t be alone,” Emma replied. “I’m sure your mother and father will attend.”

“Well, that is comforting, I must say.” Sarcasm dripped from Belle’s every word. “Don’t you think they will be just a little bit curious about my spending so much time with a man I utterly despise?”

“Belle, you are an intelligent woman,” Ned stated matter-of-factly. “I am certain you will think of something.”

“No one will question Ned’s absence,” Emma put in. “He’s a man, you know, and they are allowed to go about as they wish. And as for me, well, just say that I’m feeling a bit ill. My falling out with Alex will probably be the latest on-dit by then, and everyone will expect me to be thoroughly heartbroken.”

“This is going to be the most horrid, repulsive, disgusting task that I have ever undertaken,” Belle sighed, looking as if she had just drunk a glass of sour milk.

“But you’ll do it?” Emma asked hopefully.

“Of course.”

Tuesday night Alex spent with a bottle of whiskey.

At some point during his drunken stupor, he began to marvel at Emma’s wondrous acting talent. She’d have to be very good to fool him for a solid two months. He’d been so certain that he’d known her, really known her, the way he did Dunford, and Sophie, and his mother. She had become such an integral part of his life that he often could predict what she was going to say before she said it. And yet she consistently surprised him. Who would have guessed that such a keen mathematical mind was hidden beneath her bright tresses? Or that she was just about the fastest tree-climber in the British Isles? (This he hadn’t seen firsthand, but Belle and Ned had both sworn it was true.)

Surely a woman who could climb a tree, bait a fishhook with a worm (yes, he’d heard all about that, too), and perform long division with the greatest of ease couldn’t be the greedy little bitch he’d called her earlier that afternoon.

But when he’d asked her why she wanted to marry him, she’d come right out and said it: money.

But then again, no woman who is dangling after a fortune actually admits to the man in question that all she wants is his money.