She inclined her head but refused to admit it out loud. “And you’re—”
“Not?”
“Indeed. So we shall ever be on opposite sides. Like Wellington and Napoleon. But I like to think we could have been friends.”
He snorted. “As well ask a prosecutor and a defense lawyer to be friends.” He gave her a look from under his lashes that made her stomach twist. “I think we’re destined to be passionate enemies instead.”
There was an awkward pause.
“There’s no walking away from this,” he said softly. “You know that, don’t you?”
Her delight at their banter evaporated, replaced by a heavy sense of fatalism.
“Talk to me,” he commanded. “Tell me how you became the Nightjar. This is not something you’ve taken on suddenly. Your skills must have taken years to hone. Who taught you? Your father?”
Emmy closed her eyes. So it began. The relentless questions designed to wear down her resistance. There really was no point in trying to wriggle out of it. He would break her eventually. He wouldn’t stop until he had the answers,the evidence he needed. Even if she stalled him now, it would only be a temporary reprieve. It might even be a relief to finally confess.
She sat up straighter in her chair and tried to emulate Camille’s worldly confidence. “I did everything in my power not to become a criminal, but it was inevitable, given my father’s decisions. And since I had no choice in the matter, I decided to see it as a personal challenge. If I was going to be a thief, then I would be the best thief London has ever seen.”
Harland’s expression of surprise was delightful. He clearly hadn’t expected to get a confession out of her so easily. She smiled. “I am a damned fine criminal, if I do say so myself.”
“Youwere,” he said brutally. “Until you got caught.”
Her chest tightened at that irrefutable truth.
“Why jewels?” he asked. “And why only ones from the French royal collection?”
Ah, so he’d made that connection. She’d thought as much. How else could he have predicted she’d go for Lady Carrington’s ruby and not some other prize?
She gave a sad half smile. “What is that phrase? ‘The road to hell is paved with good intentions.’”
He leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingertips on the arms. “You do know the true, legal definition of stealing, do you not? As in, taking something that doesn’t belong to you without intending to return it?”
A burst of righteous anger welled up inside her. “I have every intention of returning them! Just not to the people from whom I stole them. They will go back to their rightful owner.”
“And I suppose you’ve determined who that rightful owner is?” The sarcasm in his voice could have cut glass.
“Of course. The people of France.”
The silence that followed her pronouncement was profound. Harland stared at her as if the concept of her actually having a noble reason for stealing the jewels had never entered his head. She felt vaguely insulted. Had he really thought her so venal?
“You feel no remorse for what you have done?” It was more statement than question, but Emmy answered it anyway.
“Honestly? No. I feel pride. If you‘re expecting an apology, you’ll be waiting until doomsday. I will never apologize for doing my duty. My duty to my father, and my patriotic duty to France.”
Stealing back the jewels was morally the right thing to do. Emmy truly believed that. She just wished the responsibility had been foisted on someone else. Patriotism was all well and good, but in pitting her against Harland, a man she cared for, it had removed any possibility that they might have had a future together.
He sighed. “The diamond you took from Rundell and Bridge belonged to the Prince Regent. He wants it back.”
“Well, he can’t have it. It’s not his.”
“Tell me where it is.”
“I can’t,” she said in perfect honesty. She had no idea what Danton had done with it.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You little fool! This isn’t a game. It’s a damn risky business. Who put you up to this? Your brother? Your grandmother?”
“Nobody. It was all me. Working alone.” She curled her fists against her thighs. “You don’t understand. Ihadto do it.”
