Thick As Thieves (7 page)

"I am glad the air is cleared. I am not used to deceit."

He cocked his head to one side. "Pity. I was about to suggest a whole summer of deceit to you, Miss Denver."

"Indeed! And what form would this summer of deceit take?"

"I happen to require an heiress to act as bait to catch Tom, the burglar. If common gossip toots you as a fabulous heiress, you will be a natural target for him, as you suggested yourself."

"You have brought me here to lure a burglar! You have shouted in the journals that I am rich, and put me into Lady Grieve's dungeon, for the purpose of having my jewels stolen? Well, upon my word, Mr. Dalton. You go too far!"

"No, no. I brought you here for the purpose of catching Tom. Naturally your jewels, if you have any troublesome amount of them, will be safely sequestered elsewhere."

"As a matter of fact, I do have rather a lot of jewelry." I explained about my stepmama's taking her friends' jewelry as collateral.

"Best get them into a safety box at the bank at once."

I was intrigued by Dalton's plan and asked what my part in it would be.

"You would have to become more highly visible than you will like. That is all. Go about in society, wearing your jewels. Your name would appear in the journals, relating your doings. In short, I am asking you to become one of society's outstanding ladies of fashion, to attract Tom's attention."

Dalton regarded me fearfully, thinking I would cry out in horror at becoming a public figure. I was thrilled to death, but, of course, did not say so. "It sounds tedious," I said doubtfully. "Why is it your job to catch Tom, Mr. Dalton?"

"Because he robbed me of five hundred pounds, and several of my friends of jewelry. Bow Street is active in the case, of course, but Townshend thinks the thief is a member of society. Some gent down on his luck—or lady, for that matter," he added. "They have asked me to help. I consider it my duty to help uphold the law," he said nobly. Then he added with a twinkle, "Besides, it is demmed good fun pitting my wits against Tom."

"Despite what you know of me, I, too, am eager to uphold the law. Just one thing puzzles me." He looked interested. "Why did you pick on me, when you know any number of ladies who are already well-known society figures?"

"There are several reasons. The idea came to me when I discovered how brave and quick-thinking you are. I refer to your lifting the emerald ring, and dumping it in my pocket when the constable came on the scene. Then, too, it was my hope that my accomplice would agree to live in Lady Grieve's dungeon, close by, for easy communication. I preferred a younger lady—and that you happened to be attractive was no deterrent." A glance full of admiration darted all over me. "There, I have opened my budget. Will you do it?"

"At some point in this summer of deceit, am I likely to end up with Tom's gun pointing at my nose? I fear that going to bed every night with the fear of having Tom invade my house will deprive me of my beauty sleep."

"I cannot say there is no danger in it, but there is not so much as you fear. Tom never strikes when the victim is at home. He seems to have ways of knowing when his victim is out, which is why Townshend feels he is a member of society, aware of such things. I want to make all your doings public knowledge, so that it will not look unusual if the journals announce you are off visiting this or that castle for a weekend. Tom will not strike until he has had time to gauge your jewels, which is why I want you to wear them on every outing. He will strike in a couple of weeks, and while he knows you are away. And I shall be there, waiting for him. Indeed, I have already hired a man to watch your house from dusk till dawn. Tom will soon hear of you. Already the folks who met you last night at my house are bruiting your presence about town."

"That is why you invited me," I said, not wholly feigning my annoyance.

"That is one reason. It is not good for a lady to be without friends. I fear your self-imposed isolation is turning you cranky," he said, with a bold smile. "I also would like Linda to have a good, sensible lady friend. And as I implied earlier, I have no aversion to a pretty neighbor myself."

"It seems to me you have set me up as Tom's target whether I like it or not. It would be foolish to refuse your help, as he will certainly have a go at my jewels in any case."

"A word whispered in the right ears will return you to anonymity, if that is what you wish," he said. "I have only to hint that Miss Denver is not so well to grass as I thought, and you will not be troubled by Tom or anyone else. In fact, if you dislike the scheme, I shall happily refund you the rent of the house and let you return to London, for I would like to plant someone in there this summer, to help me catch Tom."

"But I am enjoying Brighton! I do not want to leave. I'll do it," I said, before he could say any more about anonymity, or leaving.

"God bless you, Miss Denver. I shall be eternally in your debt. Now, this evening, I would like you to put on your diamonds and come to a gaming hell with me."

"Mr. Dalton!"

"Mrs. Lament's gaming hell is all the crack this year," he said blandly. "We shall drop in around midnight, after Lady Verona Shelby's rout. I shall call for you and Mrs. Henderson around nine, if that suits you? Perhaps your aunt will want to skip the gaming hell."

I was overcome with a fit of giggles, like a green girl. I never thought I would be one of the charmed circle, darting wildly from routs to gaming hells, with a handsome escort like Mr. Dalton. I fear I must desist from drawing a moral here, or you will take the notion that stealing is the way to get what you want. Still, there is no denying that if I had not stolen Lady Dormere's emerald ring, I would still be sitting at home alone in London, while some other lady acted as bait for Tom.

Chapter Seven

"Will these strawberries do, Mum?" Mary asked, when I went to speak to Cook about dinner. She showed me two quarts of perfect, ruby red berries, resting in familiar green boxes.

"They look fine, Mary. Take them next door, with my compliments."

"The greengrocer told me as how the best berries always come from Lady Grieve's garden," Mary said, and tittered.

"I suspected as much. What did you pay for them?" She told me, and I said, "Call Luke in, Mary, if you please."

I heard her jawing at him as they approached. "You're for it now, mister. She's got a rare temper when you set her off."

Luke entered, somewhat chastened, but still with that sly fox look on his face. "The twelve quarts of berries you sold to the greengrocer will be deducted from your wage, Luke." I purposely named a larger amount than I thought he had taken. When he did not object, I assumed he had stolen more than a dozen. "I will not tolerate pilfering. In future, I wish to know how much produce is culled from the garden.
I
shall decide what to do with it. The greengrocer is not my favorite charity. If this occurs again, I shall notify Lady Grieve. That is all."

"The extra produce is part of my wage when Lady Grieve is here," he said with a sulky look.

"Don't try to con me, you sly rogue. She has not been here for decades. Now go, before I box your ears."

He left, without even apologizing, and I went to tell Hennie the news about our being bait for Tom.

"Are you crazy?" she demanded. "You'll lose all your jewels. We shall be fortunate if he don't slit our throats."

I explained how the thing would work, and she settled down to a dull grumble. To rouse her out of the sulks, I told her about Lady Verona Shelby's rout, adding that I would go on to another do with Mr. Dalton.

"What is this other do? Perhaps I would like to go along to it as well."

"It is a gaming hell, Hennie, and you are perfectly welcome to come along, if you wish."

Her eyes opened up like saucers. "A gaming hell! I don't know what the vicar would say."

"Yes, you do. David would say it was a den of the devil," I teased, and left, hoping she would not accompany us.

Until dinnertime, I planned my garden party for Saturday afternoon. Thus far, I had not made many acquaintances, but I meant to invite everyone I had met, including even Stewart Grindley. One other duty that had to be taken care of very soon was the matter of additions to my toilette. I would ask Lady Filmore to recommend a modiste to me. Her advice would be invaluable, as she always turned out in the first style of fashion. It was a good way for us to further our acquaintance.

I was not entirely without handsome gowns, however, and for that evening I wore a green one the shade of tulip leaves, edged with silver lace and ribbons. With it, I wore Lorene's diamond necklace and carried a lace shawl. This latter article offered more style than warmth. Hennie squinted her eyes at it and said, "I have heard the road to hell is paved with vanity."

"You have heard wrong. It is paved with good intentions."

When Mr. Dalton called for us, he had Lady Filmore along with him, resplendent as usual, this time in a cream-colored gown with sapphires as lovely as her eyes. During the drive to Lady Verona's on German Place, I asked Lady Filmore's advice on a modiste, and she offered to accompany me the next morning to her Frenchwoman on Paradise Street, near All Souls Church.

All the people I had met at Mr. Dalton's dinner party were at Lady Verona's, and a great many more besides. The ones I had met greeted me as an old friend. My first partner was Mr. Dalton, who danced with grace and charm.

At the dance's end, there was a crush of beaux lined up to meet me. I felt as courted as Prinny's heir, Princess Charlotte. I had to remind myself that Mr. Dalton could return me to anonymity with a word, or my head would have grown too large to carry. Of course, it was my dot these fellows were interested in, but they had to take me along with it, and that was good enough for the nonce.

I invited half the people there to my garden party on Saturday. Ladies and gentlemen, young and old, if they looked halfway respectable, I invited them. Not one soul refused either. I can say without boasting that my projected party was the on-dit of the evening.

It was for the fifth set that Lord Harelson wedged his way through the throng and asked me to stand up with him.

"I hear you are having a little do Saturday," he said. A surprising number of my partners used that opening ploy. In his case it was unnecessary.

"Lady Filmore has most particularly told me I must invite you," I said. "I hope you can come."

"Ah, Linda will be there, will she?"

"Of course."

"Well, I shall come anyhow."

"I thought that might induce you," I said, looking a question at his lack of enthusiasm.

"No, Miss Denver,
that
is not what induces me," he said, with a smile. He could be quite charming, when he roused himself out of his usual torpor. I began to see what Lady Filmore had seen in him.

That smile made me realize that Harelson had an eye on me himself. It was an extremely touchy state of affairs. "Just so long as you come," I said, and turned the conversation to Stewart Grindley. If that name did not kill his flirtatious mood, I don't know what would.

"Grindley said he had met you. He is putting up with me for the summer. Deuced odd fellow. He insists on paying rent, as if I were running an inn. I only take it to have some cash on hand to lend him when his pockets are to let. I don't mind having him about, but I wish he would wear his own shirts."

"Did his nag win the hurdle races? He seemed to put great faith in a horse called Blue Boy."

"Blue Boy trailed the field. You never want to put your blunt on any nag Grindley recommends. Now, if you are a betting lady, I can—"

"Oh no. I am not interested in that, Lord Harelson."

The dance was pleasant enough. His flirtation never exceeded the bounds of good taste. Before leaving, he mentioned that he would "pop in" to see me, sometime he was in the neighborhood. I assented without undue enthusiasm.

Just before dinner I went abovestairs to tidy myself, and met Hennie there, rouging her cheeks. Now, the late vicar, you must know, had no opinion of rouge.

"Paving the road to hell, are you, Hennie!" I quizzed. "Where did you get that?"

"From your toilet table at home," she retorted, squinting at me. "Lord Brockley asked me if I was feeling faint. I felt fine, and concluded I must be too pale. I have decided to buy a pot of rouge, Eve. Every lady here over thirty is painted—and a few of them who are younger than that." This was a jibe at my occasional use of rouge. I was not wearing it that evening. "Why should
I
look like a flat?"

"Why indeed? Here, let me smooth in the edges for you." She had it sitting in two circles, low on her cheeks. "Have you decided about coming on to Mrs. Lament's gaming hell later?"

"I shall be going, but not with you and the Daltons. Lord Brockley is taking me. I don't suppose you could lend me a couple of shillings, Eve? I did not bring any money with me."

"A couple of shillings will not get you far. Here, take this," I said, and gave her a couple of guineas.

"Good gracious! I don't mean to dip so deeply as that."

But she took the money, and tucked it into her little beaded reticule. Hennie looked pretty that evening. Her eyes sparkled with a new light, and the rouge became her.

"Are you setting up a flirtation with Lord Brockley, Auntie?" I teased.

"No, he is trying to set up one with me. He is a widower."

"I knew he was available. I thought he was a bachelor."

"No, his wife died a decade ago. He finds it lonesome without her. His kiddies are all grown-up."

Lady Filmore and some other ladies came in just as we were about to leave. "Miss Denver, could I speak to you for a moment?" Lady Filmore asked, drawing me off to a corner. "I saw you dancing with Harelson. Did he say anything about me?"

"I told him you would be at my garden party, and he was eager to come."

"What did he say?" she asked, with pathetic eagerness. It seemed unkind to lead her on, but if the fellow planned to jilt her, I saw no reason why I should be his messenger.