Rexanne Becnel by Thief of My Heart Page B

whatsoever. A cad completely lacking in moral values.
    But oh my, he certainly knew how to kiss!
    At that aberrant thought, she tugged so hard at a particularly difficult tangle that tears sprang to her eyes.
    “Ouch! Oh, damn!” she muttered furiously. Then she cast a guilty eye around the room. Thank goodness Nina had gone downstairs and wasn’t here to see such an unladylike display of temper.
    But that, too, Lacie laid at Dillon Lockwood’s door. Never had anyone made her angry enough to lose her temper and actually utter a profanity. Yet he’d done it twice now, and she’d met him only the previous day!
    Sighing in frustration, she smoothed her hair back as best she could, then caught it up in one hand and twisted it around and around. Once it was tightly wrapped upon itself, she looped it about her hand three times. Then, using an old-fashioned wooden hairpin, she deftly caught the underneath hairs and pinned the entire bun neatly in place at her nape. She then donned a fresh muslin blouse and stepped into a slip and petticoat before pulling on a black skirt of plain goods, adorned only with a triple row of tucks near the hem. Last, she hooked a plain black collar of severe design around her neck. Then she eyed herself speculatively in her small mirror.
    Just as a widow would dress at home, she thought approvingly. Neat and simple and most respectable. There was no need in this heat to wear a black bodice over her blouse. No jewelry was necessary either, for a widow wouldn’t wear anything—
    Except a wedding ring!
    Lacie’s mouth gaped open at the thought of how stupid she’d been. Surely Frederick would have given his wife a ring, yet she’d not sported any such symbol of marriage. What should she do? Although he’d apparently not noticed her mistake yet, Dillon was sure to notice eventually.
    There was only one thing to do, she decided nervously. She must slip into Frederick’s rooms, find his mother’s jewelry, and pick an appropriate ring. It would only be a loan, of course. She had no intention of using Amelia Allen Kimbell’s jewelry any longer than she had to. Once Dillon was gone the ring would go right back where she’d found it.
    All was quiet as she stealthily crossed the vast second-floor hall. No one saw her enter Frederick’s apartments, but that only made her feel more like a thief. Skulking about in her own home, indeed!
    Yet that was just what she did. She quietly searched Frederick’s desk and his armoire and found a small intricately inlaid rosewood box in the bottom drawer of his tall mahogany dresser. A myriad of keepsakes and family mementoes crowded the drawer, but only the octagon-shaped box interested her, and within that, only the rings.
    Most of them were too big, she realized as she slipped on an elegant pearl creation, then a garnet-studded band, and finally a dainty filigree piece with a pale emerald set up on six slender tines.
    None of them would do, she fretted as she dug frantically through the chains and bangles. She was becoming positively desperate before she discovered a plain gold band stuck in a crevice at the bottom. Orange blossoms twined simply between narrow edgings in a classical motif. Although it was loose on her ring finger, it fit her middle finger perfectly.
    Enormously relieved, Lacie quickly restored the other pieces to the box, stuffed the box into the drawer, and slammed it closed. Then she held out her hand to admire the ring.
    It felt odd on her finger, strange and out of place. But she firmly buried that idea. It might feel odd, but it looked just right, and that was all that mattered.
    She looked around Frederick’s room then, wondering if she should move her things into it. She and Ada had discussed that subject at length after Frederick died. It certainly might be perceived as odd that she still stayed in her old teacher’s quarters when such a fine apartment as this was available to her. But she had simply not been able to force herself to