Page 21 of The Duke and Lady Scandal
“Couldn’t be helped, Duke. A messy case delayed me. I’m sure you can sympathize.” His grin was wide and more confident than Ben remembered. “Haverstock have you under a pile of them as usual?”
Arthur Fitzroy had only been a constable for three years before deciding to leave the Metropolitan Police and apprentice himself to a private agent of inquiry. Two years later, he’d split from that gentleman and started his own business as an inquiry agent.
His ambition was as keen as Ben’s own and every bit as impatient.
“The old dragon keeps me busy.”
“Aye, I’ll bet. Knows what he’s found in you, he does.” Fitz leaned in. “Though I tell you, Duke, there is coin to be made working for oneself. And no fire-breathing Haverstock to wield power over you.”
Ben allowed himself a half smile, though he didn’t meet Fitzroy’s gaze. It wasn’t that he hadn’t considered breaking off on his own. He had, especially as he bristled under Haverstock’s hold. But more than a path to quick income, he longed for power and position. Respect and achievement. To his thinking, that could only be found within the police force.
“I’ll stay where I am for now.”
“And take Haverstock’s throne one day, you will.” Fitz assessed the shops along Moulton Street, his nose twitching and eyes narrowing as he chafed his hands together. “What is it you have for me?”
“How do you feel about becoming a regular at that coffeehouse across the street for a week or two?”
Fitz quirked his brow and moved to the mouth of the alley, squinting at the cafe as if expecting to detect something nefarious from its reddish-brown brick facade and chalkboards listing the day’s offerings.
“I can do that, but what for?”
“Observation and the reporting of anything suspicious. This is to be quietly done. Not a word to anyone.”
“I do understand discretion, Duke,” Fitz drawled, clearly offended by the reminder.
“Good.” Ben strode through the gap between buildings again to get a better look at Hawlston’s.
“We’ve had a tip that a group of men were heard discussing a plan to steal—” Ben’s brain stalled when he caught sight of her. Chestnut hair, flushed cheeks, hands moving as she talked.
Miss Alexandra Prince stood inside her family’s shop and leaned into the front display, moving items aside to place an elaborately decorated vase in a prime spot nearest the window. Whether she was singing to herself or speaking to someone, he couldn’t be certain. But in between dusting, she talked and gestured with her hands.
“Steal?” Fitz prompted from behind him.
“Something the Crown would not like to be parted from.” Ben thought it best to keep the details to himself.
Fitz whistled. “Stealing from the Crown would require some sizable bollocks.”
“Or a taste for risk and an oversized ego.” Ben glanced back at his former colleague. “We’ve both known thieves who overestimated their skill.”
“Mmm,” Fitz murmured in agreement. “And gadded about as if they had a cat’s nine lives.”
“We’d like to cut this one off at the planning stages,ifthere is a plan. You’d simply be testing the validity of the tip.”
“And you don’t care to handle this officially?”
“The moment I know the tip is sound, I will.”
“Got it.” Fitzroy clasped his hands and stretched his fingers, as if he was about to begin an activity that required dexterity. “Who should I be on the watch for?”
Ben winced. “I have nothing terribly concrete to offer on that score, I’m afraid. Three men in dark clothing. One is tall, dark bearded, and wears darkened lenses.”
Fitz jerked back and frowned. “Not a great deal to latch onto there.”
“Agreed, but you’ll be listening for any talk of theft or jewels.” Ben glanced at him. “While blending in seamlessly.”
“Jewels?” Fitz’s eyes widened. “Stealing jewels from the royals would be wildly audacious. I’m assuming you’ve taken a look at known jewel thieves.”
Ben had reviewed the files of a few and asked Ransome to find others. None that had ever been taken into custody were notably tall.
