Sweet Revenge

Celeste used anger to smother it. “Dammit, how would I have explained that Princess Adrianne was just practicing when she fell off the roof of my building and smashed herself on Central Park West?”
    “I didn’t fall off,” Adrianne pointed out. “And if you hadn’t been foraging in the kitchen, I would have cleaned out the safe, gone back up to the roof, and made my getaway.”
    “Most inconsiderate of me.”
    “Never mind, Celeste.” Adrianne patted her hand before she sat on the arm of the chair. “Though I did want to see your face when I dumped your ruby necklace into your lap. I’ll have to settle for this.” Adrianne drew a chamois pouch from her shoulder bag, opened it, and poured out diamonds.
    “Oh my God.”
    “Gorgeous, aren’t they?” Adrianne held the necklace up to the light. It was a single tier of brilliant cuts dipping down to a huge center stone that would nest cozily in a woman’s cleavage. The gems seemed to drip with cold, arrogant life. Experimentally, Adrianne turned it in her hands.
    “About sixty carats all told, just a touch of pink in the color. Excellent workmanship, well balanced. It even managed to make the old crow’s neck interesting.”
    Celeste told herself she should be used to it by now, but had the sudden urge for a drink. Rising, she walked over to a French rococo cabinet and chose a decanter of brandy. “Which old crow was that, Addy?”
    “Dorothea Barnsworth.” Dipping into her bag again, Adrianne plucked out matching earrings. “Now, these are nice, don’t you think?”
    Celeste merely glanced over at several thousand dollars worth of ice. “Dorothea, yes. I thought it looked familiar.” Celeste offered a snifter of brandy. “She lives in a fortress on Long Island.”
    “Her security system has some major flaws.” Adrianne sipped. After her cold trip down from the roof, the brandy slipped into her system like a warm hug. “Would you like to see the bracelet?”
    “I’ve already seen it, last week at the Autumn Ball.”
    “That was a pleasant evening.” Adrianne jingled the earrings in her free hand. She judged them to be about tencarats apiece. There was a jeweler’s loupe in her bag as well, which she had made use of in the Barnsworths’ study. Just to make certain she didn’t leave Long Island with a bagful of pretty paste. “Once they’re fenced, these little baubles should bring about two hundred thousand.”
    “She has dogs,” Celeste said into her brandy. “Dobermans. Five of them.”
    “Three,” Adrianne corrected Celeste before she checked her watch. “They should be awake by now. Celeste dear, I’m starving. Have you got another banana?”
    “We have to talk.”
    “You talk, I’ll eat,” Celeste managed only a frustrated oath when Adrianne started out of the library toward the kitchen. “Must have something to do with all the fresh air I’ve had tonight. Christ, it was cold out on Long Island. The wind cut right through me. Oh, by the way, don’t let me forget that I left my mink on your roof.”
    Covering her face with her hands, Celeste sank into the ice cream parlor chair by the kitchen window while Adrianne rummaged through the refrigerator. “Addy, how long is this going to go on?”
    “What’s that? Ah, pâté forestier. This should hit the spot.” She heard the drawn-out sigh behind her and fought back a smile. “I love you, Celeste.”
    “And I you. Darling, I’m getting older. Think of my heart.”
    Adrianne balanced a plate filled with pâté, green grapes, and thin butter crackers. “You’ve got the strongest and biggest heart of anyone I know.” She brushed a kiss on Celeste’s cheek and caught the comforting scent of her night cream. “Don’t worry about me, Celeste. I’m very good at what I do.”
    “I know.” Who would have believed it? Celeste took a deep breath as she studied the woman who sat across from her. The Princess Adrianne of Jaquir—daughter of King Abdu ibn Faisal Rahman al-Jaquir and Phoebe Spring, movie star—at twenty-five years of age was a socialite, benefactress of numerous charities, the darling of gossip columnists … and a cat burglar.
    Who would suspect? Celeste had comforted herself with that thought over the years, though there was something of the Gypsy in Adrianne’s looks. The stunning little girl had become a stunning woman. She had the golden skin and darkeyes and hair of her father’s heritage, and her mother’s strong bone structure, refined to