Emmaline recovered from her swoon the instant Enrique hurried out of the bedroom in which he had left her. She hurried to the door and peered out making sure there was no one in the hall. Predictabley there wasn't, this was a private section of the manor and all of the family was doubtlessly at the reception below. She hurried across the floor, greatful that she had opted for the satin blue slippers rather than something with a heel, retracing her steps to the family collection.

The snake bracelet was where it had been before, though this time when she looked at it the thing seemed innocent and inert. She wasn't quite sure why it fascinated her. Certainly there were many items of considerably greater monetary value, but her gold lust hadn't stirred. Well, hadn't stirred much. Reaching out she touched the glass and murmured an incantation. She could sense the lead which held the glass pane in place and a moment later the familiar smell of molten metal filled her nostrils. Gently as she could she pushed the glass backwards into the case until it came free, falling the few inches to strike the bracelet without breaking. Carefully she reached in and withdrew the bracelet with two fingers. Up close it was even more lifelike than it had seemed during the tour, every scale picked out with the precision of a master craftsman. She turned it over in her hands, admiring the workmanship for a moment before looking around and finding what she was looking for. She hurried over to where a small and thankfully empty pewter inkwell stood on a desk. Lifting the thing in her palm she began another incantation, the same one with which she counterfeited coins, and shaped it to her will. Within a few seconds a second bracelet rested in the palm of her hand. It wouldn't fool a careful inspection, pewter wasn't as good for this sort of thing as gold or silver, but it would defeat a casual observer for the day or so it would take for the illusion to fail. Hurrying back she slipped her fake into position and then whispered another spell, drawing the glass back up by the lead residue on the edge and fixing it back into place. That accomplished she thrust the stolen bracelet into her bodice, lacking a more practical place, and sprinted back to the bedroom where Enrique had left her. Footsteps could already be heard in the hallways as she reached the bed and flopped down, taking a moment to ensure that her prize was thrust sufficiently deeply into her cleavage to escape notice before putting on her best wan expression.