Page 65 of In Want of a Suspect

“You care? What fine words! Where were you when my grandmother was dying? Why did you not care then?”

“Josette, I—”

The door to the sitting room opened and Dupont appeared, likely drawn by the sound of raised voice. “Miss Beaufort?”

“Mr. Darcy is leaving!”

“Josette—”

“Good day!”

The butler held up an arm to indicate that Darcy should follow him. “This way, sir,” he said, a core of steel in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” he said to Josette again, but she had turned her back on him.

In the foyer, Dupont handed him his hat and a footman came forward with Guy. Darcy took the dog’s leash and made one last entreaty to the butler. “I do care for her, despite what she might say. And I fear she’s in terrible danger still. Please, keep a close eye on her.”

The butler’s expression was withering. “Ialwayskeep a close eye on Miss Beaufort.”

Darcy felt somehow chastened, but he forced himself to hold Dupont’s gaze. His unyielding gray eyes held... not scorn, but condescension, to be sure. As if Darcy were just a little boy and he was the grown-up. His face softened a bit, and he nodded. “I know you do.”

Outside of Cavendish House, Guy wagged his tail andlooked up expectantly at Darcy. “I don’t know what’s next,” he said. “She didn’t really tell me anything, and I doubt she will now.”

Guy sat.

“I’ve made a mess of things,” Darcy told him.

The little dog tilted his head, as if he understood what Darcy was saying. But even Guy couldn’t distract Darcy from Josette’s parting words.Where were you when my grandmother was dying? Why did you not care then?

He thought of the empty file at Pemberley.

Why would Josette expect him to have shown up at her grandmother’s deathbed?

Unless...

He looked down at Guy. “How discreet can you be?”

Fifteen

In Which Lizzie Discovers a Most Shocking Connection

THE BELL ABOVE THEdoor of the fourth jeweler’s shop tinkled as Lizzie stepped inside, assuming the role of a harried, anxious young lady.

She’d perfected her persona at the last shop, so now it was easy to hover near the counter, casting her gaze about for a free clerk while taking in the shop’s displays of earrings, bracelets, rings, brooches, and necklaces. But no necklaces looked like the pendant that was growing warm in her gloved hand. She also took in the clerks—she wanted someone a little timid looking, the most junior person she could find. She thought she spotted her mark, a sandy-haired young man wearing an ill-fitting jacket and speaking earnestly to a well-dressed matron. He seemed like the type that was eager to please and would answer all of Lizzie’s questions—

“May I help you, miss?”

Lizzie jumped and turned to find a poised and polished clerkstanding behind her, watching her coolly. He was old enough to have creases around his eyes, but not quite as old as her parents. Not exactly who she’d been hoping for, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “Oh, hello!” she squeaked out.

“Good afternoon. Is there something you would like to take a closer look at?”

The clerk nodded at the jewelry under its glass cases, and Lizzie forced herself to emit a high, nervous laugh. “No, no. I do need help, though.” She held up the necklace and noted the glint of interest in the clerk’s eyes as he took in the gold and topaz. “My fiancé gave it to me, but I don’t know how to open it!”

The clerk pulled on a pair of white gloves and held out his hand. She carefully placed the necklace in the man’s hand. He cradled the small object like one would hold a newborn kitten as he inspected it. “Ah, yes,” he said. “Pink topaz. I recall this commission.”

“Can you help me?” Lizzie asked, and she didn’t even have to pretend to sound hopeful and anxious all at once, even though she was desperate to know if he rememberedwhohad commissioned the necklace.

“Certainly,” the man said. “Miss...?”