Page 18 of The Trick of the Treasure
“Watch the shop, there’s a love,” Juliet said, holding the inner door for Constance and Solomon. “To what do I owe the honor?”
“We’re picking your brains, Ma,” Constance said, sitting down at the comfortable table and producing from her bag Lloyd’s inventory of his treasure. “Have you heard a whisper of stolen treasure coming on the market? Unusual items? Anything about the items on this list?”
“I don’t hear what I used to, being respectable now,” her mother said virtuously, eyeing Solomon, who was her landlord. “But no, I haven’t heard anything in particular.” She took the list from Constance, and her darkened eyebrows flew up as she read. “Where does all this come from? A museum?”
“It was stolen from a private home,” Solomon said.
“Very well, I’ll keep my eyes and ears open for a word, but this lot would need to be sold to a private collector. Whoeverpinched it would get a tiny fraction of its worth. I presume the police are already looking for it?”
“Yes, but it’s possible our thief is somewhat naïve in the ways of stolen goods,” Constance said, “and has no idea how to earn usable money from his loot.”
“I’ll listen for that too. I daresay I’ll have the peelers poking their long noses and clumsy mitts into my business again.” Juliet looked up from the list. “Did you consider it might have been a private collector who stole it?”
Constance felt her eyes widen. “Actually, no, but that makes perfect sense.” Presumably the Lloyds numbered several eager collectors among their friends. “We should look into that. Who would you suspect of such practices among the wealthier of your clientele?”
“You mean theoutwardlyrespectable?” Juliet thought for a little, then pulled a piece of paper in front of her and took a pencil from a hidden pocket behind her shawls. She started to scribble a few names, some with addresses beneath.
When she paused in her writing, Constance said, “Solomon and I are engaged to be married.”
A slow smile tugged at her mother’s lips before she looked up. She wasn’t laughing, though her eyes did gleam. “Congratulations, Solomon. Con, I knew you’d turn respectable one day, even if it took a man like our Mr. Grey.”
“Women like me are never respectable,” Constance snapped.
“Why not?” Juliet retorted, spreading her arms wide. “Look at me.”
Constance was obliged to laugh. “You are right, of course. There are many shades of respectability. Your shop appears to be blooming.”
“It’s a novelty right now, so people are curious. Not everyone who comes in is here to buy. But trade is brisk and I can’t ask for more. I had to get Gerry in to help mind the shop just so I canattend to the rest of the business. And yes,” she added, scowling at Solomon, “he knows the rules and keeps his nose clean.”
“I never thought otherwise,” Solomon said mildly.
*
Since they weremaking use of Constance’s town carriage, she had instructed her coachman to go first to Solomon’s house behind the Strand.
“I’ll collect Janey from the office,” she said, as Solomon sat down beside her. “She won’t close up until one of us tells her to.”
“Will you tell her we are engaged?” he asked as the horses pulled them forward.
She shifted position, gazing out of the window. “I don’t know.”
He was silent for several heartbeats, though she could feel his gaze on her averted face. “If you don’t want to do this, tell me.”
Blindly, she reached out, seeking and finding his hand, though she would not turn her head. “I do,” she whispered, gripping hard. “I just don’t know where to start. I can’t tell Janey because she will tell the girls, even by accident.”
“Then why don’tyoutell your girls?”
“Tell them what?” she demanded. “That I am about to make them homeless, turn them out, sell the roof over their heads? Sacrifice their future to mine?”
“Thisis what’s been bothering you?”
After a few moments’ more silence, he touched her chin and she closed her eyes as, inexorably, he turned her face toward him.
“Constance. I would never ask you to sell your establishment. I understand what it means to you and the good you do there.”
She forced her eyes open, furious that a tear—of pure frustration, of course—caused her to dash her free hand acrossthe corner of her eye and glare. “Do you also understand that when I marry you, you will own everything of mine?You, Solomon Grey, will be the owner of a brothel!”
His lip twitched. Was that laughter glinting in his eyes, or just relief? It was hard to tell in the flickering lamplight.
