Thick As Thieves (2 page)

"Yes,
sir,
I am!" From the corner of my eye, I noticed the pile of jewelry left on the counter by the other client. An emerald ring had become separated from the rest, sitting near me. It was edged in diamonds down either side. I was taken with it and thought I might buy it, if Parker were not such a crook.

He turned aside. "Get her, Duke," he said in a low voice. A black dog as big as a sideboard rose up from the floor. He wiped his slavering lips with a long tongue and made a lunge at me. Parker still held the leash. "Better get out while you can," he said, with an evil grin.

I don't know where the idea came from, for I am really not a thief. I think it was Parker's sly, triumphant grin that goaded me to indiscretion. Without quite knowing what I was doing, my fingers closed over the emerald ring. "You have not heard the last of this, sir. I'll be back with a constable."

Parker released the dog, and Hennie and I darted to the door. A whistle called the dog back to his master.

I was trembling like a blancmange when we reached the street, and safety. "The crook!" I squealed.

"Eve, are you sure he stole your diamond?" Hennie asked.

"Of course he did, but he did not get the better of me!"

"What do you mean?"

I held out my hand and opened it, displaying the emerald ring. "You
stole
it!" Hennie gasped.

"I did not! I exchanged it for the diamond he pried out of my ring."

"But the poor man who hawked it—he will want it back."

"The fellow was selling it. I overheard the whole thing. Parker gave him a hundred pounds for it, the same as he allowed me on my diamond. They are of equivalent value, obviously."

"Oh my goodness. I feel weak." A vicar's widow, reared up in the countryside, had never before encountered this rough sort of justice.

Before she could succumb to a swoon, there was an awful bellowing behind us as Parker discovered my stunt and was after us, holding the black hound of hell on a rope. "Where is Topby?" I exclaimed.

"You told him to drive to Curzon Street. This way, run!" We took to our heels as fast as our legs could carry us.

"Stop them!" Parker hollered.

Looking ahead, I saw a constable fast approaching from Curzon Street, directly in our path. I grabbed Auntie's hand and pelted across the street. In my haste, I bumped into a man who was just about to ascend his carriage.

"Sorry," I gasped.

A blue arm came out to steady me. I glanced up, and saw a harsh face staring down at me. The face was lean and tanned. A pair of gray-green eyes, the very color of the Atlantic on a stormy day, looked startled.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

I looked over my shoulder, where Parker was gaining on us. From the other end of the lane, the constable was coming. He would find the emerald on me and arrest me. Visions of the Old Bailey and Bridewell flashed through my mind. I used Hennie's advance to nudge up closer to the gentleman.

"Don't let us detain you," I said, taking Hennie's arm to hasten her along. My other hand hovered over the man's pocket, and I slid the emerald ring into it, brushing against him to conceal the movement of my hand.

"Where to, Mr. Dalton?" the man's groom called from his perch.

"Hyde Park," Dalton replied.

I saw him glance at the approaching constable, and wondered at his lack of curiosity in leaving at this exciting juncture. If it were me, I would have waited to see what was going forth. In fact, I was struck with the notion that Mr. Dalton was in a hurry to escape himself. Perhaps he just did not want to be involved as a witness in some unsavory case. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked.

"We're fine, thank you," I assured him.

He climbed into his coach and it rattled off. I was glad the nice man got away before I was utterly disgraced, but I still thought it odd.

The constable and Parker reached us at the same time. "Arrest her. She's robbed me of an emerald ring," Parker said.

"There is your thief!" I retaliated, pointing at Parker.

A loud and excessively vulgar wrangle ensued. We went into Parker's shop to escape the gawking crowd. Hennie and I endured the indignity of having our reticules and pockets searched. I gradually got the idea that the constable had some familiarity with Parker's unsavory reputation. His attitude seemed to be that if someone had got the better of him, so much the better.

"We'll leave it up to the courts," he said. "You, madam, can bring a charge against Parker. And you, Parker, can do likewise, if you want to be bitten to death by lawyers. It is up to you. Do you want to lay charges, folks?"

Parker and I exchanged an angry, knowing look. "It is not worth my while," I said grandly, "but I shall warn my friends to avoid this establishment."

"I can do without
your
friends, thankee. Maybe the ring fell on the floor. I'll have a look," Parker said, and began to make a show of looking around the floor.

Hennie and I ducked out to the waiting carriage. "Where to, madam?" Topby called.

"Hyde Park," I replied.

Chapter Two

We took a moment to recover our breaths. "What did you do with the ring, Eve? I made sure they would find it in your pocket, and we would end up in Bridewell," Hennie said, when she could speak.

"I got rid of it when I saw the constable coming."

"You threw it away?"

"Certainly not. I slid it in that gentleman's pocket, the man I bumped into. He was handsome, was he not? That is why we are going to Hyde Park."

Hennie smirked. She has the idea that I am interested in nothing but finding a husband. She is quite mistaken; I want a circle of female friends, too. I am tired of being an Ishmael. "To recover the ring, Hennie. He directed his groom to Hyde Park. Keep an eye out for him when we get there."

"I am sure you will spot him, Eve," she said snidely.

"His carriage was plain black. Not a coroneted door. I rather hoped he might be a lord."

Overcome by a belated seizure, Hennie dissolved into a fit of giggles. "You are up to all the rigs. You even noticed his carriage lacked a lozenge. I made sure you would go straight home and dose yourself with hartshorn, as I feel like doing."

"Why, there is no need to go home to do that. I have a bottle right here. What an excellent idea. I am feeling shaken myself." I drew a small cut-glass bottle from my reticule and unscrewed the lid to inhale the spirits of ammonia. When my eyes were watering and my lungs felt as if they were being pricked with pins, I gave Hennie the bottle to have a whiff.

"I wonder who he can be," she said. Her breaths were shallow from the ammonia.

"I have no idea. Unfortunately, we do not know his sort." I meant the sort who inhabited the charmed circle. "I hope he is still at the park, or we have lost our ring."

"How shall we approach him, if he is there?" she asked. "He must have seen the constable coming after us."

"Would he believe the truth, do you think, or should we invent some tale to appeal to his chivalry?"

"Much better to avoid the truth," she replied, sinking ever deeper into sin. Her late husband adhered to the credo that no motive was strong enough to excuse a lie. I knew this apropos my unchanging age over the years. Indeed, the phrase "mutton dressed as lamb" had been used on one occasion.

"You are right. He might take into his head to go calling the constable. I shall, hopefully, bump into him 'by accident' at the park, and tell him I lost my ring. I shall say I had it in my hand when I met him, and ask him if he would just mind having a look in his pocket, in case it fell in there. He can hardly refuse such a simple request."

"He'll have a look if he knows what is good for him," she said—another little dig at my temper.

A memory of his harsh face lingered at the back of my mind. He did not seem a man to be led by a shrew. The face's undeniable harshness had not been softened by the concern in his eyes. I remembered every feature of his face in peculiarly vivid detail. No doubt my perceptions had been heightened at the time due to the piquant circumstances.

How else to account for the vivid memory of his crisp black hair, those strong black brows, that slightly hawkish nose? He had been tall; he towered a good six inches above me, and I am five and a half feet. Either his blue jacket had wadding, or his shoulders were very broad and straight. As his stomach was as flat as an ironing board, I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

"How can we explain about the constable?" Hennie said, interrupting my reveries.

"Dalton cannot know the man was after us. We shall say someone had a purse snatched." She turned pious on me. "David always said—" I rudely cut off her repetition of the late vicar's ideas about lying. "Yes, Hennie. I know what David always said. I hope Dalton descends from his carriage. Would you recognize it again? Plain black, with a pair of matched bays, was it not?"

"I did not notice the team," she replied vaguely. I assumed she was warring with her conscience over the projected tissue of lies, and left her to it.

As we drove through Hyde Park, Hennie exclaimed, "There! That is him!" She pointed out the window to Mr. Dalton, who stood in conversation with a fashionable blond lady, dressed in the first style of elegance. I had seen, admired, and envied the lady before; she was a certified member of the ton. She was often seen on the strut on Bond Street, at the barrier at Hyde Park, on the grand tier at the theaters, and no doubt at fashionable parties from which I was excluded. What roused my curiosity was that I had not seen her with Mr. Dalton before.

"He is not alone," I said, disappointed. "The blonde could be his sweetheart. You do the talking, Hennie. His girlfriend will resent having another lady chasing after her beau."

"I would not know what to say!" Hennie exclaimed.

As she would certainly make a botch of it, I relented and agreed to do the lying myself. I pulled the check string and we descended. The clement weather made a walk unexceptionable. The sun shone brightly, fuzzing the greenery of grass and trees with a tinge of gold. Bird song filled the air, and a warm zephyr caressed our cheeks. The pathways were full of strolling fashionables as we wended our way toward Dalton.

When he espied us, he gave a sudden start of recognition, just before his eyes widened, revealing rampant curiosity. He recognized us, certainly. I only hoped he had not discovered the ring, and begun suspecting our integrity. Our eyes met, and I drew to a stop. "It is you!" I exclaimed, as if in surprise.

"I am happy to see you escaped from your—difficulties," he said, hesitating over what to call our former predicament.

"Yes, I understand some poor lady had her purse snatched, and the constable was running after the fellow."

"Did they catch him?"

"We did not linger in such a horrid location," I said demurely, and immediately turned to smile at the lady, to divert his conversation and her wrath at my knowing Dalton while not knowing her.

"Allow me to present my sister, Lady Filmore," he said. "Linda, this is—I do not have your names, ladies." He smiled.

I introduced first myself, then Hennie. You may be sure I took careful note that his companion was his sister. She had all the accoutrements of an Incomparable—blond curls, blue eyes, rose petal skin, teeth of pearl, French gown, etc.

Lady Filmore told us that her brother—she called him Richard—had mentioned the little fracas in Shepherd's Market, and chided us for going to such a verminous place. We stayed chatting a moment, working around to asking for the ring. Lady Filmore was an inestimable help. She was a regular chatterbox.

Over the next few moments, we learned that Lady Filmore (Linda) was not only married but widowed, at nineteen years of age. I wondered if her husband had left her unprovided for, since she made her home with Mr. Dalton. Soon it came out that she already had another beau in her eye.

"Let us sit and rest our legs," she suggested. "I want to talk about Brighton, Richard. Let us go there this week. The Season ends tomorrow. Everyone will be running off to Brighton. You have that handsome house on Marine Parade, sitting idle."

"Lord Harelson, I assume, will be going to Brighton?" he replied with a quizzing smile that spoke of romance.

"He mentioned going today," she laughed.

Much as I enjoyed having someone other than Hennie to talk with in the park, I sensed we had outstayed our welcome. "We will leave you to it, Lady Filmore," I said. "We must be running along now, but before we go—foolish me!" I turned a fluttering gaze on Dalton. "I was carrying an emerald ring I had just redeemed from the pawnbroker when I bumped into you at Shepherd's Market, Mr. Dalton. I know I had it in my hand when I bumped into you, and a moment later, it was gone. We went back and scoured the street with a fine-tooth comb. It is extremely unlikely, I know, but do you think it might just possibly have fallen into your pocket?" We walked on a little way.

Dalton slid his hand into his pocket, and brought it out empty. "It seems not," he said.

His expression was perfectly bland, yet I was morally certain the man was lying. So much for the ton! "Try the other pocket. It must be there," I said. He tried the other pocket, with the same result.

"Would you happen to have a hole in your pocket?" I asked, my voice becoming thin with annoyance. He turned his pockets out, so that I could see they were empty, but in good repair. I could only stare in disbelief. It was impossible! I soon concluded that he had found the ring, and was concealing it from me. Stealing it, in other words.

"You must be mistaken, Eve," Auntie said.

"Mistaken, is it?" I asked, eyes fulminating.

"Perhaps it fell out into my carriage," Dalton suggested. He certainly knew the way my mind was veering. I should not have been a bit surprised if he also suspected I had hidden the ring to avoid detection.

"Where is your carriage?" I demanded.

"Unfortunately I had it taken to the stable when I called on my sister. She wished to take her own carriage. I shall have mine searched and take the ring to you if it is found, if you will give me your address, Miss Denver."