Sweet Revenge

at her windows. It was ridiculous, he thought. Absurd. Yet he stood for a long time, rocking back on his heels, speculating.

Chapter Fourteen
    Adrianne had a leisurely breakfast in her room. While she scanned the headlines, she nibbled at a poached egg and enjoyed a second cup of coffee. The only problem Adrianne had with her double life was that it wasn’t possible to share the best of it with anyone. There was no one to talk to, to brainstorm with when she was working out a complicated heist, no one who could understand the excitement, the rush of adrenaline that came from rappeling down a building or outwitting a sophisticated alarm. No one in her circle of friends would have felt that sharp-edged concentration that came from thinking on your feet when a security guard changed his pattern. There was no one to celebrate with, no one to share that whippy, exhilarating high that came from holding a fortune in your hands and knowing you’d succeeded.
    Instead, there were solitary meals in endless hotel rooms.
    She saw the irony of it, even the humor. She could hardly announce at lunch while her companions spoke of their latest hobbies or lovers that she’d spent an enjoyable weekend in London stealing a sapphire as big as a robin’s egg.
    It was like being Clark Kent, she’d once told Celeste. Adrianne imagined the dogged reporter had felt more than a little frustration trapped behind horn rims and a mild manner.
    Too little sleep, Adrianne decided. When she started comparing herself to comic book characters, it was time to get a grip on herself. She might be lonely, but she was accomplished.
    It was time to dress, in any case. She wondered if Madeline was up, or if anyone had noticed the damagedwindow. Adrianne had carefully replaced the circle of glass to prevent a draft. If Lucille neglected to dust the windowsills, it might go unnoticed for days.
    Either way, it didn’t matter. Rose Sparrow had work to do this morning, and Princess Adrianne had a plane to catch at six this evening.
    When Adrianne, in her red wig, leather miniskirt, and pink tights walked out of the Ritz, Philip walked in. They passed through the double doors shoulder to shoulder. Philip even murmured an apology for the slight brush as Adrianne’s mouth fell open. If he’d looked at her, really looked, she would never have pulled it off. Stifling a giggle, she managed a “No problem, guv,” in a broad cockney.
    The doorman gave her a sniff of disapproval. Undoubtedly, he took her for a working girl who’d spent the night entertaining some wealthy and totally tasteless businessman. Pleased with herself, Adrianne let her hips roll as she strode off to the Underground. She’d take the tube to the West End, where a man named Freddie ran a discreet passageway for the hottest rocks.
    By two she was back in her suite with a thick stack of twenty-pound notes. Freddie had been generous, which told Adrianne he probably had a client with an affection for sapphires. All that was left was to deposit the funds in her Swiss account and have her London solicitors make an anonymous donation to the Widows’ and Orphans’ Fund.
    Minus her commission, Adrianne thought as she tossed Rose’s wig in her suitcase. Ten thousand pounds seemed fair. She was standing in her underwear, removing the last traces of Rose from her face, when her buzzer sounded. She tugged the belt of her robe secure before she answered.
    “Philip.” She was astonished.
    “I was hoping I’d catch you in.” He stepped through the doorway because he didn’t want her to have the chance to close the door in his face. “I dropped by earlier, but you were out.”
    “I had business to attend to. Was there something you wanted?”
    He stared at her. It was a ridiculous question for a woman to ask a man when she was dressed only in thin ivory silk. “I thought you might be free for lunch.”
    “Oh. That’s sweet of you, but I’m leaving in a few hours.”
    “Back to New York?”
    “Briefly. I’m chairing a charity ball and have dozens of details to tie up.”
    “I see.” She wasn’t wearing any makeup. The lack of it made her seem younger but no less alluring. “And then?”
    “Then?”
    “You said briefly.”
    “I’m booked to Mexico, Cozumel. A charity fashion show for Christmas.” The moment she’d told him, she regretted it. She didn’t like telling anyone of her plans. “I’m sorry, Philip, but you caught me in the middle of packing.”
    “Co ahead. Mind if