Page 66 of In Want of a Suspect

“Bennet,” Lizzie said, for she had no calling cards but her own on her person, and if asked for proof of identity, it would look awfully suspicious if she couldn’t come up with a card. “I feel so silly!”

“Not at all, miss,” the clerk said, guiding her to a nearbycounter. He pulled out a velvet-lined tray and set the necklace down with a small tsk. “I see that your clasp has been damaged, miss.”

“Yes, I was terribly clumsy the other day,” she lied. “It caught on my hairbrush.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Miss. You must know that we pride ourselves on the quality of our jewelry, and for such a thing to happen... well, I’m not at all satisfied, miss.”

Was it Lizzie’s imagination, or was he eyeing her with suspicion as he arranged the broken necklace on the tray? Lizzie felt her heartbeat pick up, but she brazened her way through. “Oh, I’m sure your quality is excellent, sir. It’s me. Why, I shattered a vase the other day and I thought my poor mama would faint!”

The clerk gave her an obligatory polite smile. He picked up a small magnifying glass and turned the pendant around to the back, and then to the front, making small hmm sounds.

“You see, my fiancé gave it to me, and he told me that it contained a surprise! Only, I hadn’t the faintest idea what he meant until my dear friend Miss Carlton told me about her locket. But hers looks different from mine, and I’m terribly afraid I’ll break it by trying to force anything, so I decided to just ask an expert. Is it a locket?”

She batted her eyelashes at him, hoping he’d be taken in by feminine charms and flattery, but the clerk wore a peculiar expression. “I see,” he said. “It is most definitely ours, and you’re correct, miss, it is a locket. They’ve been incredibly popular.”

“Oh, thank goodness!” Lizzie cried, and she truly wasrelieved. “I’m afraid he’s beginning to suspect that I haven’t figured it out!”

The clerk smiled politely, but he was still examining the necklace. “And what is your fiancé’s name, Miss Bennet?”

A twinge of panic ran through Lizzie. “Oh, I hope you don’t plan on telling him I was here! He’ll think I’m awfully dim!”

“No, no,” the clerk assured in a tone that she found far from reassuring. “But I do like to know all of our customers, and I make it a point to remember everyone.”

I’m sure you do, Lizzie thought. This was a test—he wouldn’t open it for her unless she could name the man who commissioned it. And if she was wrong, he’d likely accuse her of stealing. Lizzie felt a thin sheen of sweat break out across her body. If she gave the wrong name, could she snatch the necklace and make a run for it? Not likely, at least not without drawing the Runners.

“Hu-Hughes,” she stuttered, and forced a fond smile. “Not much longer now, and I’ll be Mrs. Hughes!”

“Excellent, Miss Bennet,” he said. Then, so quickly that she almost missed it, the clerk squeezed the rounded edge of the filigree, and the pink topaz at the center moved on a hidden hinge, then pressed inward. There was a small click, and then the hidden hinge opened to reveal a small compartment.

“Oh!” Lizzie cried, leaning forward to inspect it. “How clever!”

“Yes, it is,” the clerk said, clearly pleased with the design. “Now, for your ‘secret,’ Miss Bennet.”

He stepped aside so that she could see the inside of thelocket. Lizzie supposed it was a bit much to hope for a tiny note that contained all of Leticia’s secrets, but she was nonetheless surprised to find that the locket was... empty. Empty, that is, except for a bit of engraving in the center of the locket.

To L.B. with all my love and adoration. —R.H.

“Oh,” Lizzie said, aware that she sounded confused, and not at all thrilled.

“Were you expecting something else, miss?”

“No! I’m merely surprised, that’s all!”

“It’s quite the moving declaration, isn’t it?”

It was indeed, but not for the reason the clerk thought. For a dizzying moment, Lizzie had thought that the necklace had actually been meant for her, when she saw the L.B. But when she saw the R.H. her heartbeat galloped out of her chest.

R.H. Richard Hughes! She had guessed correctly!

But who was L.B.? Not Leticia Cavendish? Unless...

Leticia Beaufort?

But that wasn’t her surname.

“If I may ask, miss,” the clerk said, “might I see your card?”

Lizzie barely managed to keep from sucking in a sharp breath. She looked up and blinked innocently at him. “My card? Why, whatever for?”