Page 58 of The Trick of the Treasure
“Because you have a guilty conscience?”
Sydney scowled. He began to tap his hat against his thigh. “What are you accusing me of, Mama?”
“Nothing. I am merelyaskingif you are responsible for the switching of the treasure.”
He gazed at her, amused and yet not a little uneasy. If she had spoken her suspicion to his father… “Why would I do anything so crass? I was to get a quarter share of the treasure. The word is, that would amount to far more than I’d get selling the whole lot to some greasy fence.”
“Then youdidthink about it,” she pounced.
“Contrary to popular opinion, I do think occasionally. Sometimes, I even daydream. Does my father, having insisted I accompany him on the damned treasure hunt—which was utterly laughable right up until the moment we found it—actually accuse me of stealing from him now?”
“Of course not! But I am your mother, and I well know the mischief in you, Sydney Lloyd. And I know your temper, which is not so unlike your father’s. I know you must have irked each other over the months of forced proximity on the voyage.”
He stopped tapping the hat and plonked it on his head instead, as a signal that the conversation was over. “Mama, you are barking quite up the wrong tree.”
“I hope so. You can still fix things if I’m not, but it has to be quick. One thing more.”
He paused, his hand already on the door. “Yes, Mama?” he said with exaggerated patience.
“Did you know any of the crew on theQueen of the Sea? Had you seen any of them before?”
It was not a question he had expected. His erratic curiosity surged, along with a fleck of the mischief she had just accused him of.
“No. But I believe Papa did.”
He didn’t like that look of fear in her eyes. He had seen it before, usually in the company of Papa, or in conversationsaboutPapa. So he did what he always did. He ran away from it.
“I have to dash, Mama,” he said, sparing her a swift kiss on the cheek before he swept out of the room. “Goodnight!”
*
When Constance arrivedback at her establishment, the regular evening party was in full swing. She entered by the front door,made sure with the large footmen on duty that all was well, and gave them her outerwear to dispose of before entering the main salon.
She was hailed from all over the room, by the women and by the regular clients who took their ease there, sipping wine, nibbling from the delicacies on the buffet table, and flirting. She could see at a glance who had retired to privacy, and that all was as it should be.
She began to mingle, pausing to talk to all the guests, particularly the influential and the wealthy on whom the rest of her work depended. She had long ago developed the professional hostess face she showed the world, and she knew how to sparkle, how to lift a party and endow it with life and enjoyment. Tonight, she had no need to pretend. She was sparkling inside with Solomon’s love and understanding.
Stephen, the young footman bearing a tray of wine, touched her elbow and she stepped aside, inclining her head to hear his murmur.
“Bit of trouble in the hall, ma’am. Lord Rawleigh has brought a couple of friends who refuse to pay till they’ve—er…sampled the wares.”
“How very rude,” Constance said. “Thank you, Stephen. Excuse me,” she added to the group beside her, and flitted through the throng to the hall to calm whatever situation had developed.
Two of her long-standing footmen—or guards—looked particularly stony-faced as they stood blocking the way of three young gentlemen. One was Lord Rawleigh, looking rather sheepish.
“Not the rules of the game, old fellows,” he was saying to his companions as she approached. “Happy to lend you the blunt.”
“That’s not the point,” said a voice that was only too familiar. Feeling slightly sick, she took in the identities of her difficult guests, just as they looked round and saw her.
Sydney Lloyd and Ben Devine.
For an instant, the scene stood still. She felt totally exposed as her two worlds collided. She had lost the case for Solomon. She had probably lost Silver and Grey for them both.
The young men’s mouths had fallen open.
Lord Rawleigh hurried into speech. “Mrs. Silver! So sorry to be the cause of trouble. These gentlemen are my guests, and I am happy to make their contribution to the club.”
Constance pulled herself together. She had more important responsibilities right now, and allowing clearly drunk and contemptuous men into her establishment to “sample the wares” was against everything she had fought for.
