Page 31 of The Wallflower Manifesto
He blinked at her, a little stunned by this observation. “You know, I think you are right. I should be reading them every morning.”
She gave an airy shrug, as though she were a little embarrassed at having given good counsel. “That is what I wanted to speak to you about. There will be a story in at least one gossip circular today which you will take great interest in. It concerns your jewel thief.”
“Oh?”
Now, this was a surprise! He hadn’t heard even a whisper of the brigand beyond Cresson’s note-taking.
“Yes, it seems that somehow one of the jewels that was stolen last Season found its way into a reputable new owner’s hands.”
“Really? A private sale, perhaps? Black market jewels certainly have an enthusiastic market.”
“I don’t think so.” Millie chewed on her lip, gazing up at the boughs above them as though to find answers there. “No, I think somehow it changed hands enough times that it was sold in complete good faith. The gentleman who proposed with the ring has already been set loose by your former compatriots on Bow Street.”
“That would explain the sloppiness of sending the thing back into its original rotation,” Abe replied. “Somewhere along the line, it would have had to make a leap from back alleys to someone reputable. Who knows how many hands it changed?”
“Well, only hands that could afford a piece so valued by a duchess, wouldn’t you think? I imagine there is some discount to be had when something is sold with a crime attached to it, but even so, it is a pristine ruby in a centuries-old setting. I doubt any fence worth his salt would offload it without appropriate compensation.”
Abe halted abruptly, a surprised bark of laughter escaping his throat. “Millie Yardley!” he said in shock. “How on earth do you know what a fence is?”
She released his arm so that she could walk around to face him and put her hands on her hips with a roll of her eyes. “I am a barrister’s daughter, sir,” she reminded him. “And barristers represent all manner of ne’er-do-wells. My father never put much stock in keeping us ignorant.”
“Scandalous,” he said, wide-eyed and shaking his head. “Just absolutely jaw-dropping.”
“Stop it.” She gave him a playful swat and gestured down the path. “In any event, if you can follow the chain of custody fromthe poor duped groom back to the original buyer, you may have your thief. Assuming you can do it faster than the Runners.”
He made a noncommittal noise. His former colleagues were unlikely to be dragging their feet on this one, considering the rewards from various victims.
“Do you have any suspects? Anyone who looks likely?”
“No,” he confessed with a heavy sigh. “I’ve combed through the invitation lists, the interviews with attendees and servants, and the accounts of whether the jewels stolen were being worn when they were taken or stored abovestairs. Each incident happened at a ball or soiree, but each case is different enough to give me exactly nothing. Which at least means that the Runners also have nothing, I suppose.”
“It is such a fascinating career,” she commented, tilting her face up to meet his. “Did you come to London specifically to work for them? You are from Scotland, obviously.”
“Obviously,” he returned with a chuckle. “And yes, actually. I think I was always going to move to London eventually. I visited once as a boy and knew it was the city for me. When the news reached us up in Aberdeen that the Runners were being formed, I wrote immediately and was accepted. Truth be told, they were taking anyone back then.”
“I somehow doubt that they were taking just anyone,” she demurred, squeezing his arm in a way that nearly made him trip over his own feet. “And besides, even if they were, you clearly had an aptitude.”
“For some of it,” he said, feeling his own color heightening at this recognition. “I preferred the cases with question marksattached. Plenty of the other lads hated them. It gave me a good, dependable stack of work, day to day.”
“Why did you leave them, by the by?” Millie asked. “Do you simply work better alone?”
“Oh.” He gave a self-conscious rub of his jawline. “I … did not leave of my own desires. I offended a magistrate, I’m afraid, and was booted out.”
“Goodness! That sounds dramatic. What did you do to offend him?”
Abe gave a little wince. “I punched him. In the face.”
“What! Why?”
“Oh, many reasons,” he replied with a wave of his hand. “I’m afraid it isn’t a very satisfying story. What about you? Why didyouleave your former occupation?”
“Pardon?” She looked incredulous. “What occupation would that be?”
“Pampered daughter,” he said, gesturing around. “Free to stroll at her leisure.”
She was silent, a slight frown on her pretty face as they rounded the corner near the rear gate.
He could not tell if he’d upset her or if she was working out an answer. He did not dare say anything else, lest he make it worse, and instead listened to the birdsong as they made their way through the mottled shadows of the square, cursing his own stupidity.
