Page 46 of A Stolen Heart

But the past few days had been so strange, her mother’s actions so bizarre. Why did her mother refuse to answer her questions? Alexandra could not help but wonder if the secret to her past lay in that small box. She couldn’t imagine what could be inside it. It was too small to hold much. Perhaps a very small book, a diary—or the letters of a lover, the father of her child? Or—or what? Surely she had the right to know about her own life.

Stealthily, Alexandra walked to the other side of the bed. She stood over the box for a moment, then reached down cautiously, her eyes glancing to her mother, and closed her hand around the box. She raised it from the bed and pulled at the lid. It opened easily.

Inside, on a bed of padded purple satin, lay a gold locket on a chain. It was beautifully engraved with swirls and some ornate letter in the center, though Alexandra was not sure what at first, for all the curlicues and twists around it. Then she saw, her heart thumping, that it was an A. Her stomach turned cold, and the freeze crept into her chest until she could hardly breathe.

She picked up the locket. It lay coolly on her fingers. She inserted her thumbnail in the thin line that lay between the two halves and gently pried the thing open. She stood for a moment, staring at what lay in her hand.

On either side of the locket was a miniature portrait, drawn with infinite care and infinitesimal detail. She had seen other tiny portraits like it. This one had been done by a master. On one side of the locket a man’s face looked at her as solemnly as it had looked out of the portrait yesterday in the Countess’s bedroom. On the other side was a smiling dark-haired woman who looked just like the woman staring down at her.

Alexandra backed up a step. She felt suddenly light-headed. Her stomach churned. Chilton and Simone.

She turned and walked numbly out of the room. Her aunt, who was leaving her room, saw her and said sharply, “Alexandra? What is the matter?”

Aunt Hortense hurried toward her. Alexandra looked at her blankly.

“I have to leave. Watch Mother for me.” She gestured toward the bedroom, then turned and went down the stairs. Moments later she was in a hackney, rolling across the cobblestoned streets toward the home of the Countess of Exmoor.

The butler announced her to the Countess, then ushered her into the drawing room. The Countess looked up from her chair and smiled. “Miss Ward. How pleasant to see you again.” The smile dropped from her face. “My dear, are you feeling quite well?”

“What? Oh. Yes, I’m fine.” Alexandra glanced around the room, a trifle nonplussed to find that there were several other people in the room. Penelope was smiling at her, while Lady Ursula looked daggers straight through her. The Countess’s companion, Miss Everhart, offered her a quick, timid smile before she glanced at Lady Ursula’s stony face and immediately dropped the smile. Worst of all, Lord Thorpe was sitting not a foot away from the Countess, staring at Alexandra icily.

He rose, saying in a cold voice, “Miss Ward. I am surprised to see you here.”

“Are you? And why is that?” Alexandra asked, recovering some of her aplomb. Let him explain his warning to her to stay away from the Countess in front of the woman herself.

His lips tightened, but he said nothing. The Countess glanced at him oddly.

“Come and sit beside me,” the Countess told Alexandra, covering the awkward pause. She gestured gracefully toward the chair on the other side of her.

“I have something I wanted to show you, my lady,” Alexandra said, clutching the locket tightly in one hand as she walked toward the Countess. “I found this in my mother’s things, and I thought—I did not know where else to turn. Can you tell me what it is? What it means?”

Alexandra looked into the older woman’s eyes, blocking out everyone else in the room, as she held out her hand to the Countess, the locket in the palm of her hand. The Countess, her face mildly curious, glanced from Alexandra’s intense face to her hand. She stiffened, one hand rising slowly to her breast. Her face turned as white as a sheet of paper.

“My God.” She reached out a trembling hand and touched the locket reverently, almost as if she was afraid it might disappear. “The locket.” She took the necklace in her hand, bringing it closer to her eyes. She gazed at the engraving on the front, her forefinger tracing the looping letter. Tears glimmered in her eyes. “It is Alexandra’s locket.”

The Countess looked at Alexandra, tears spilling out of her eyes, and held out her hands to her. “My love. Welcome home. Oh, thank God. Welcome home.”

CHAPTER NINE

“MOTHER! WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” Lady Ursula exclaimed in horrified tones. “Thorpe! Don’t just stand there, do something.”

“And what, pray, would you have me do?” he asked dryly, but his face was tight, his lips bloodless with fury. “It would seem that Miss Ward is cleverer than either of us gave her credit for.”

Alexandra ignored both of them, taking the Countess’s hands. The Countess stood up, squeezing Alexandra’s hands tightly, and looked into her face, her eyes lingering lovingly over each of Alexandra’s features. “I knew it the other day, and I let them talk me out of it.” She stepped forward, her arms going around Alexandra, and hugged her tightly. “I can scarcely credit it.”

“Neither can I,” Ursula interrupted acidly. “What are you talking about? What is that thing?”

“It’s the baby’s locket.” The Countess released Alexandra and turned toward her daughter and Thorpe, dangling the gold locket in her hand. “Don’t you remember? I gave them to the girls the Christmas before they went to France, matching lockets with miniature portraits of Emerson and Simone inside. A keepsake. Each of them was inscribed with her initial on the front, M for Marie, A for Alexandra.” She smiled at Alexandra, her face shining. “It was obvious to anyone who looked at you that you were Simone’s daughter, but this clinches it. She is your niece, Ursula. My granddaughter.”

Thorpe took the necklace from the older woman’s hand and studied it, flipping open the locket and looking at the little portraits inside. “This proves nothing,” he said gruffly. “She could have found this anywhere—in a shop, on the street. After all, the men who killed your family doubtless took their jewelry and sold it. The locket is probably what gave her the idea in the first place. She happened upon this piece of jewelry, saw that the picture resembled her and set out to find out what the story was behind it. Doubtless she did whatever she could to make herself look even more like your daughter-in-law. All this proves is that she knew what Simone looked like before she saw that portrait in your bedroom.”

Alexandra forced herself to turn and face Thorpe’s glacial gaze. Her rage at him had seeped away, and she felt only pain at his obvious hatred for her. “I have never seen that locket before today, my lord.”

Ursula let out a snort of disbelief.

The Countess turned to her daughter and Lord Thorpe. “Well, this is certainly a first. I doubt I’ve ever seen you two present a united front.” She let out a sigh. “I would have thought you would be happy for me, Sebastian.”

Thorpe looked stricken. “I cannot be happy to see someone take advantage of you. You know I want you to be happy, but that doesn’t mean I want you to be taken in by an imposter.”