“My diamond-and-pearl brooch. I set it on the bureau last evening when I retired to bed. It was not there when I awoke.” She held up a hand to forestall any commentary. “I searched the room. It is gone.”
Wellington looked to Tillie. “The little monster is at it again.”
“So it would seem.” Tillie frowned. “It was bad enough when we was the only ones being robbed. We can’t let it go any longer now.”
She was completely correct. This group, however, was not likely to give her the benefit of their good opinion.
Wellington set his shoulders and assumed his most authoritative air. “We know the identity of our thief. Thus far, though, the culprit has managed to evade capture. Miss Combs and I will redouble our efforts to corner the criminal and reclaim all that has been taken.”
That seemed to appease them a little. Very little.
“Now, if you will all take your time breaking your fast and enjoying one another’s company, Miss Combs and I will recruit help from someone hereabout who can be trusted.” He eyed them all individually. “I hope there will be no more unfounded accusations.”
A few looked at least a little embarrassed to have been so unfeeling. The rest accepted the chastisement without showing the least remorse. So long as they stopped causing Tillie distress, he would let that be enough.
He offered her his arm. “Shall we, Miss Combs?”
“Yes, please.” As they walked arm in arm down the corridor, she whispered. “What precisely do you mean to do?”
“Exactly what I said: catch a thief.”
Was she pleased?” Hollis asked Elizabeth.
“I’ve never seen a lady’s face light up so entirely at the mere sight of a ball gown. I suspect she has missed some of the frivolous aspects of Society more than she is willing to admit.”
Hollis hadn’t always appreciated having to maintain his Society connections. In that moment, though, knowing he’d brought a bit of joy to Ana, he was grateful that he had.
Móirín sat across the sitting room, adjusting the knife holster around her ankle. All the Dreadfuls were intimidated by Stone, but they likely ought to have treated Móirín with caution as well. She was too much like a sister for them to have anything but a deep, abiding fondness for her.
Elizabeth set her gloved hand on Hollis’s arm. “How are you? Your brother’s continued absence must weigh on your mind.”
“From what I’ve been able to discover, Parker has him hidden. If I can corner Headley tonight and get myself included in the next game at Thompsons’ then maybe this can be sorted enough for Randolph to come out of hiding.”
“If you and Fletcher and Stone cornered him somewhere,” Móirín said, “I’d wager Headley’d spill every secret he has.”
“And Fletch and I would be there mostly as an audience.”
Móirín smiled. “Stone has a way of getting things done, yeah?”
“Decidedly,” Elizabeth answered.
Hollis used his reflection in the sitting room window to straighten his lapel and smooth his jacket. “Unfortunately, Headley’ll have to be treated with kid gloves. He’s not who we’re actually after, and we can’t risk him tipping our hand to Four-Finger Mike.”
“It’s fortunate, then, you know how to slip about Society without being out of place,” Móirín said. “Brogan can manage it more or less, but not with the finesse you have.”
“Fletcher puffed like a steam engine when I told him he’d best sit this one out,” Elizabeth said. “The man does a fine job of affecting the manners of a gentleman, but Mr. Headley is an itch he cannot help but scratch. Pulls the urchin out in him every time.”
“So, Achilles does have a heel after all,” Hollis said.
“Two of them, in fact.” Móirín wore an expression of pure mischief.
One never knew what she was going to say or do, except that she was reliable, fierce, and an unrelenting advocate for the vulnerable. And a little terrifying. Through her brother, she knew nearly all the Dreadfuls, and knew them well, but she didn’t know about the Dread Penny Society, not in any detail. That was the agreement they all had among themselves: the society was a secret one, even from their families. Their loved ones could know they were friends, that they spent time together, that they worked on behalf of the less fortunate, but, beyond that, even the people closest to them were kept in the dark.
Hollis heard the patter of feet on the stairs and the swish of a dress. He turned toward the sitting room door, smiling in anticipation. Ana had allowed him to hold her in his arms the last time they were together. It seemed his misstep in speaking aloud her thieving identity had been forgiven. The seemingly impossible dreams he’d indulged in after first meeting her were beginning to feel nearly within reach.
Móirín rose from her chair and moved casually toward him. “Seems this Achilles has a heel, as well.”
“You’re speaking of me, are you?”
Móirín smirked—actually smirked. “I know the look of a man in love.”
“And you consider love a weakness?”
She shook her head. “Love can be a strength, but ’tis also a vulnerability.”
“Is that why we’ve not ever known you to fall head over heels for anyone?” he asked.
“Feet on the ground; head out of the clouds.” Móirín had said that before. It was something of a motto for her.
Ana stepped into the doorway, a vision in a light lavender gown, scalloped ruffles adorning the full silk skirt. He’d learned more about fabrics and clothing from concocting disguises in the Dread Penny Society than in all his years before joining the group. He knew with perfect certainty this gown was in the first stare of fashion. But that was not what caught his eye.
Hollis couldn’t pull his gaze away from Ana’s absolutely elated expression. No one seeing her standing there, her fingers brushing over the lavender silk, turning a little from side to side as if barely preventing herself from twirling, could have the least doubt she was enchanted with the gown.
“Is it not the most beautiful dress you’ve ever seen?” she asked.
“Gorgeous.”
Móirín gave him a nudge. “Feet on the ground, Hollis. Head out of the clouds.”
“Keep your nose out of my clouds, Móirín Donnelly.” He left her behind as he joined Ana by the door. “You are a vision.”
She twisted enough to eye the scoop of ruffles on the side of her full skirt. “I used to love wearing dresses like this one.” She twisted the other way. There was something so sweetly gleeful about her excitement. “I’m likely terribly shallow for being so pleased at wearing a beautiful gown and also for having missed it so much.”
“Not at all.” He took her hand in his. “When I first came to London, I had been wearing secondhand clothing for years. Lord Whitley provided me with a new wardrobe. I was working as his secretary, and, I would wager, he didn’t want to look like he was being followed around by a pauper. I felt like I’d reclaimed part of my identity when I finally had better clothes.”
She squeezed his fingers. “Precisely.”
He looked back at Elizabeth, intending to ask her if she was ready to leave for the ball. She and Móirín stood beside each other, watching him and Ana with nearly identical looks of amusement.
He chose to ignore it. “Shall we?”
“I think we’d better,” Elizabeth said. She motioned them into the entryway, following them out of the room.
Hollis tucked Ana’s arm through his, resting his hand atop hers. “You really do look lovely.”
Her smile warmed him to his very core. How he wished he had the right—and the means—to provide her with the finest of gowns to wear all the time. To bring her such happiness would be an absolute honor.
Her glow hadn’t diminished by the time they reached Lord and Lady Whitley’s elegant home. Hollis’s connection to the baron wa
s the reason they’d managed three invitations to the evening’s gathering of the upper crust. Headley was going to be there. This was Hollis’s best opportunity to arrange an invitation to the next game at Thompsons’.
He walked with Ana and Elizabeth to greet their host and hostess. “Lady Whitley. Lord Whitley.”
“My dear Hollis.” Lady Whitley gave him a maternal smile. “We so seldom see you any longer.”
“If your husband hadn’t proven such a tyrant, I might still be in his employ.”
She swatted at him playfully with her fan. “I am more of a tyrant than he is.”
Hollis looked to Ana, assuming an expression of suffering. “Two tyrants in one household. Is it any wonder I don’t reside here any longer?”
“The true miracle is that they didn’t toss you out on your ear sooner for your ceaseless jesting.”
That earned her a look of amused approval from the baron and baroness.
Hollis undertook the introductions. “Lord and Lady Whitley, this is Miss Ana Newport, of Pimlico, and”—he indicated Elizabeth—“Miss Elizabeth Black, headmistress of Thurloe Collegiate School.”
Lady Whitley’s gaze narrowed on Ana, not in disapproval but curiosity. “I believe you participated in Society gatherings a few years ago.”
Ana froze. The color faded from her face.
“We are very fortunate she has rejoined us,” Hollis said, tucking Ana’s arm through his once more. “And doubly fortunate that you extended the invitation for this evening.”
“You are always welcome,” Lord Whitley said.
Hollis dipped his head and led Ana and Elizabeth away from the receiving line.
“That was expertly maneuvered,” Elizabeth said quietly. “I’m impressed.”
“Fletcher may be able to navigate the seediest streets in London with ease, but my specialty is avoiding the pitfalls and stumbling blocks of a proper ballroom.” Then, dryly, he added, “Equally important abilities, of course.”
Ana met his eye. “A half a moment ago, I found your ability far more important than his.”
“Did you think I would stand idly by whilst someone, anyone, caused you distress?”
Her gaze softened. “I cannot imagine you standing idly by whilst anyone was in distress.”
Elizabeth slipped around them, tossing back over her shoulder, “The two of you are a touch nauseating.”
“Now you know how the rest of us feel around you and Fletch,” Hollis said.
“And now you know how I feel around ‘Fletch.’”
Such banter was generally frowned upon at fashionable gatherings like this one. “I believe that man is a bad influence on us even at a distance. We are hardly behaving ourselves.”
“We’ve come with the sole purpose of tricking a gentleman neither of us is overly fond of into inviting you to participate in a dangerous game of chance,” Elizabeth said. “‘Behaving ourselves’ was never on the evening’s agenda.”
All around them swirled the elegance of high society. Jewels sparkled. Ladies’ fans fluttered. Men’s shirts gleamed white as newly fallen snow. The voices were refined and spoke only of the most proper topics.
Hollis, Ana, and Elizabeth made a slow circuit of the room. They spotted Headley quickly, easily, and repeatedly as the evening wore on. He was always surrounded by others, deep in conversation. Headley would never discuss the very secretive games if he was surrounded by listening ears.
“This is frustrating,” Hollis muttered under his breath after yet another failed attempt to catch Headley before he rejoined another group.
“Perhaps we should have brought Móirín, after all,” Elizabeth said. “She’d have simply cornered him and demanded an invitation.”
Móirín was actually far more sly than that, though she’d not sorted out the details of the Dread Penny Society. Not yet, anyway. None of them were at all confident she wouldn’t unearth the secret sooner or later. She was too clever, too observant, and too stubborn by half.
“Forcefulness is not the only useful approach.” Ana gave them both a look of slightly smug confidence. “Sometimes quiet finesse goes a lot further.” She turned on her heel and slipped gracefully and unobtrusively back through the gathering.
“Where do you suppose she’s going?” Hollis asked.
“I haven’t a clue.” Elizabeth watched her with narrowed gaze. “She’s grown very bold since you’ve begun spending more time with her.”
“I suspect she was always bold. We simply didn’t see it.”
“Ana is an exceptional person,” Elizabeth said.
“That she is.” He looked over the crowd of swirling colors and glittering jewels. “She is also a slippery person. I haven’t the first idea where she’s gone.”
“She does that more often than you might think,” Elizabeth said. “Until she finally told me about her visits to see her father, I suspected she might be living some kind of secret life.”
That was truer than Elizabeth could possibly know.
Hollis and Elizabeth offered greetings and nods to various people as they passed, engaging in the kind of empty nothings that were expected at events such as this.
“Fletcher would have been miserable tonight,” Elizabeth said during a lull.
“Which would have entertained me to no end,” Hollis tossed back.
Ana returned a moment later, threading her arm through his. “Play along,” she whispered.
He had no time to ask questions. She pulled him back through the crowd, heading directly for a group containing Alistair Headley. They stopped just outside the small gathering.
With a sweet smile, she addressed the man. “Forgive the interruption, Mr. Headley. I found this and thought I remembered you had one like it.” She held up a brass pocket watch. “I wanted to ask if it was yours before turning it over to our hosts.”
“Mercy.” His eyes pulled wide as he pressed his palms over his waistcoat. “It must have slipped from my pocket.”
Hollis couldn’t even look at Ana, lest he risk bursting out laughing. She was not merely a thief; she was a pickpocket. He would bet every penny he had on it. What a bundle of entertaining surprises she was.
Ana set the pocket watch in Headley’s hand. “I am so pleased to have returned it to its owner. Mr. Darby, here, was only just lamenting that balls are not always terribly exciting.” She looked up at him, her expression one of sweet, naïve amusement. A thief, a pickpocket, and an actress. “Does this act of heroism help relieve a touch of the ennui, or are you still bored?”
Oh, she was shrewd! It was the perfect way to tip off Headley about his openness to more “exciting” pursuits without revealing his hand to all the others standing about.
“I am, of course, delighted with your company, Miss Newport,” he said. “But a gentleman cannot help but wish for something a bit less sedate now and then.”
The interest in Headley’s eyes was unmistakable. “I agree. A gentleman of action must want for something more than this.”
Hollis allowed his curiosity to show a bit. “Do you have suggestions?”
“I might.”
Ana laughed lightly. “I will leave you to discuss carriage races or boxing saloons or whatever it is that gentlemen prefer to balls and musicales.” She slipped her arm from Hollis’s. “Miss Black and I will be perfectly content with tonight’s ‘boring’ activities.”
She stepped away, the lavender silk of her dress catching glints of candlelight as she walked gracefully away.
“That Miss Newport is a beauty,” Headley said. “And she seems a sweet lady.”
“She is,” Hollis said. “And decidedly ill-informed about what gentlemen consider exciting.”
“Walk with me,” Headley said. “I have a cure for boredom that I think you might find intriguing.”
Bless Ana Newport. This was going to wor
k tremendously well.
Hollis didn’t bother entirely hiding his less-than-flattering opinion of the man. Headley knew Hollis wasn’t fond of him, so pretending to suddenly enjoy his company would be suspicious.
“When did you last sit down to a game of cards?” Headley asked.
Hollis shrugged. “I do now and then with a few friends.” Truth be told, he hadn’t gambled since leaving Eton, but he had a role to play.
“I don’t mean a casual game,” Headley said. “A true game. Wagers. Stakes of some significance.”
Hollis allowed a little more interest to enter his expression. “How significant?”
“The antes start low, but the winnings can be quite high.”
Hollis dipped his head to a person he knew as they passed. He continued walking with Headley in a slow circuit but dropped his voice. “I have no interest in a copper hell.”
Headley waved that off. “The games are held in a fine house in Pimlico. The players are gentlemen. The host provides brandy and port and fine bits to eat.”
With liquor flowing at the Thompsons’ place, no doubt the wagers soared high. “That sounds like the perfect antidote for the watery muck and stale finger foods one finds at evenings such as this.” Heavens, he would have to apologize to Lady Whitley if word of that comment circulated back to her. “Where are these games held? I have half a mind to sit down to a hand or two.”
“I can’t tell you that.” Headley’s tone turned from eager to cautious. “One of the requirements of playing is that a fellow not share the location.”
“Sounds a touch shady to me,” Hollis said.
“Nothing underhanded.” The answer came a little too quickly. “You should join us.”
“How can I? You won’t tell me where the games are held.”
“But I’d take you to one,” Headley said. “They only let you in if you come with someone who’s already been given approval.”
And Headley didn’t think anyone would find this arrangement questionable? Even the most naïve of people would wonder about secret locations and members having to vouch for newcomers. It sounded like . . . Well, truth be told, it sounded like the Dread Penny Society. Little wonder people who’d heard whispers of them worried they were up to no good.
The Gentleman and the Thief Page 18
