Page 17 of The Duke and Lady Scandal (Princes of London #1)

Allie decided on taking a cab ride to Princes rather than the omnibus the next morning because she wanted to hold on to the peace she felt after spending another evening at Ben’s.

The thieves had been thwarted in their attempt on the jewels, and Lord Holcroft was simply an amiable nobleman. She felt an odd contentedness that she realized she’d been yearning for. All her life, she’d been waiting for her moment, struggling to discover how she might make her mark on the world.

But her heart was feeling fuller now, and her hopes had nothing to do with finding treasure or earning a headline in the newspapers.

She alighted from the cab, paid the cabbie, and unlocked the shop’s front door with an eagerness for what the day would bring, and even more, a yearning for the evening and more time with a certain detective inspector.

Normally, Grendel trotted out to greet her when she entered the shop. It was Gren’s way of reminding Allie that she was ready for her breakfast before curling up on the settee in the back for the remainder of the day.

When the cat didn’t appear, even after being called, Allie made her way into the darkened back room. She turned up the gaslight, and her heart jumped into her throat.

The back room looked as if a storm had blown through. Her books and papers were strewn across the floor. Every drawer in her desk and the nearby filing cabinet stood open, their contents rifled or tipped out. A few crates were broken too.

She rushed over to Mr. Gibson’s workroom door and queasiness washed over her. The door was ajar, its lock bashed and mangled as if someone had taken a maul or a rock to it.

Inside, she found the safe intact but dented. A few years past, she’d installed a safe with a combination lock and she’d never been more grateful for her own foresight.

Her heart still raced, and her blood thrashed in her ears, but she drew in her first relieved breath.

Then fear seized her again.

“Grendel?”

If any harm had come to that cat, she’d be heartbroken. And racked with guilt.

She should have seen to hiring a night watchman or invested in stronger locks.

“Grendel? Come on, lady.”

Allie bent to push aside books and papers and boxes, then got down on her knees to look under the settee. Grendel wasn’t there.

Since nothing looked disturbed in the front of the shop, she assumed the door connecting them had remained closed during the attempted robbery. So she had to be in the back. Allie called to her in a soothing voice as she searched behind crates and under her desk.

Had she darted past when Allie opened the door?

She decided to make a quick search of the front of the shop too.

While she got on her hands and knees to check under cabinets and furnishings on display, the bell on the door chimed. She whipped up to see who’d entered, and a sigh of relief escaped when she saw the kindly face of Mr. Gibson.

Though when he spotted her, his pleasant expression crumbled.

“My goodness, Miss Prince, what’s happened?”

Mr. Gibson immediately made his way over and offered a hand to help her up. “Did you take a tumble?”

“No, I was looking for Grendel.”

Allie gestured toward the back room. “We’ve had a break-in, and I can’t find her.”

Saying it all aloud made tears well in her eyes. When one trickled down her cheek, she swiped at it with the back of her hand. This was no time to fall to pieces. Taking responsibility for running Princes meant that even the unexpected and the dreaded were hers to manage.

“Good heavens.”

Mr. Gibson had approached the threshold of the back room. “I suppose they’ve cracked the safe.”

“No, that is the single bit of good news. They didn’t. And nothing up front looks to have been disturbed.”

“It is my fault.”

His shoulders slumped, and he rolled his hands together nervously. “I’ve meant to make inquiries about hiring a night watchman but then got busy with the Holcroft diamond.”

“It is not your fault. I should have seen to hiring someone. Though we may have lost nothing. Could you check your workroom?”

She wasn’t certain what pieces he had in progress and how much of it he had placed in the safe. All of it, she hoped.

“Of course.”

“Oh, Grendel. Where have you got to?”

Allie suspected the cat hid herself during the break-in, and unless the thieves left the alley door open, she wouldn’t have darted out. She was a cat made for the indoors. She loved quiet, and a comfortable place to rest, and her meals delivered right on time.

“Perhaps some cream,”

Mr. Gibson called faintly from the back.

“Yes, of course.”

There was nothing the elderly feline liked more than milk or cream, though it no longer agreed with her and was only given as a very occasional treat. “I’ll go fetch some from Hawlston’s.”

Allie was still trembling when she entered the busy cafe, but she tried not to let it show.

After Allie waited in a short queue, Mrs. Cline offered a greeting with her usual smile. “You’re back to your early visits, Miss Prince.”

“I’m afraid I’m not here for coffee this morning.”

Something in her voice gave her away.

“Oh no, dear, what’s got you fretting?”

Allie swallowed and leaned in. “We had a break-in last night.”

Mrs. Cline let out a gasp. As a business owner on the same street, this would be of special concern to the coffeehouse manager.

“Nothing was taken, at least as far as I can tell,”

Allie rushed to add. “But I can’t find Grendel. She lives in the shop . . .”

Worry for the gray ball of fluff welled up. “Could I buy a dish of cream?”

Mrs. Cline turned to one of the girls who helped behind the counter. “Hazel, fetch a bit of cream for Miss Prince.”

A moment later, the young woman returned with a little filled glass bottle and set it on the counter.

Mrs. Cline slid it toward Allie. “Never you mind about the cost. Go and find your cat, miss.”

“Thank you.”

Allie scooped up the bottle and headed back to Princes.

Another wave of dread washed over her when she could see Mr. Gibson pacing near the front door as she stepped inside.

“What is it?”

“A mystery, that’s what it is.”

He looked as fretful as she’d ever seen him, his brows drawn in a single line and a patina of sweat glistening on his forehead. “I’ve searched through everything in my workroom. There were some small bits left out. A gold watch chain I’ve been working to repair. An ormolu clock I’ve fixed for Lord Corning.”

“Oh no—”

“No, no, none of that was taken.”

“Then what was?”

He shook his head and when he looked at her again, his eyes had gone bleak, almost haunted.

“I can’t explain it, Miss Prince. The safe door seemed to be intact, so like you, I assumed it had not been cracked, only bashed a bit. But the door is indeed broken. Removed at some point, I’d say, but then put back in place to make it seem unbroken.”

“What’s missing?”

Allie swallowed hard. They had valuable art, some porcelain that would fetch a pretty price at auction, but the most expensive items Princes carried were the gems and jewelry pieces.

“Lord Holcroft’s diamond is missing as well as two smaller sapphires I was to set for Lady Dalrymple,”

he finally said, then lifted both hands to his head. “I thought the safe was secure. We purchased the best on the market.”

Allie approached and dared to lay a hand gently on his arm. “I trusted that it was too. You’re scrupulous and always have been.”

“Why did they replace the door? And why didn’t they take all the gems out of the safe?”

“I don’t know.”

“We should send for a constable.”

He lowered his hands and started for the front door. “I’ll fetch a messenger.”

Allie took the bottle of cream into the back room, found a teacup saucer, and poured a bit in. Everything in her yearned to begin tidying the room, but she suspected the police would wish to see it as it was. She also didn’t want to create so much noise that she put a nervous Grendel off from finally coming out. So she set the dish on the floor and headed back to the front of the shop.

Mr. Gibson was nowhere in sight, but she hoped he hadn’t had to go far to find a messenger. There was a foot patrolman who came through at least once in the morning and afternoon, so they could speak to him if necessary.

She checked the locked money box under the counter. Though there was no evidence of ransacking among the displays, paranoia had overtaken her thoughts now, and she felt as if she should check everything twice.

A knock on the front door made her jump, and she turned to find a gentleman standing on the other side. He watched her with a questioning tilt to his brow.

Neither of them had put out the OPEN sign, but the door was unlocked, so Allie waved the stranger inside.

“Hello, miss,”

he said immediately, then removed his hat and clutched it in his gloved hands. “You don’t know me—”

“No, I don’t.”

Allie couldn’t help the new distrustful tone in her voice. “Who are you?”

“Arthur Fitzroy, miss. I’m a colleague of Inspector Drake’s, who I think you know.”

His eyes lightened a fraction, and he took another step forward. “I overheard you speaking to the proprietress next door, and I believe I may be of some assistance to you.”

“Are you a detective too?”

“I am.”

He smiled as if to offer reassurance, though there was a bit of charm in it too. “Though a private one. I don’t work for the Metropolitan Police.”

“I see.”

He lifted the hand still holding his hat and waved it to encompass the shop. “You’ve had a break-in?”

After the question was out, he scanned the displays and crowded furnishings and walls dappled with art. He looked utterly confused.

“In the back of the shop. Not up here, or at least as far as I can tell.”

Mr. Gibson returned at that moment, chafing his hands, and casting a wary gaze at Mr. Fitzroy. “Found a messenger. We should have a constable with us soon.”

“This is Mr. Fitzroy,”

Allie explained. “He’s a private detective and knows Inspector Drake.”

Mr. Gibson’s face seemed to lose some of its tension. “Have you told him about our mystery?”

“Not yet.”

Allie felt sick at the thought that they’d lost such valuable pieces. She’d have to speak to Lord Holcroft sooner rather than later. And Lady Dalrymple. Though judging by its size, Holcroft’s diamond was likely ten times the value of her ladyship’s sapphires.

“Do you mind if I have a look?”

Mr. Fitzroy asked.

Allie debated for a moment, but Mr. Gibson appeared eager to agree. He’d already taken a step toward the back room and cast a glance at Fitzroy as if expecting him to follow.

“Let me go in first, gentlemen. I’m hoping our shop cat may have made an appearance.”

Allie trod carefully as she approached the threshold, and she said a little prayer at almost the same moment that she saw the glint of feline eyes looking back at her.

“Hello, lady,”

Allie said softly, then turned a glance at Mr. Gibson and smiled. “It worked.”

“The first good news of the day.”

Grendel apparently wasn’t pleased with chatter outside the door and crept under the settee again, though Allie could still see the glow of her golden eyes as she watched them.

Allie continued in with soft footsteps and bent to scoop up the cat while Mr. Fitzroy followed behind and surveyed the room.

“Have you assembled a list of all that was taken?”

Allie exchanged a glance with Mr. Gibson. “As far as we can tell, only three gems from our safe.”

“They cracked the safe? That’s impressive.”

“The odd thing is that we found the safe closed when we arrived.”

Mr. Gibson gestured toward the cast-iron door.

“It’s a heavy door. Could it have swung shut?”

Mr. Fitzroy high-stepped over books and papers, careful where to land his feet, and made his way to the safe.

“I think it’s very possible,”

Allie told him, “if they hadn’t damaged both hinges when they forced it open.”

After a moment, the detective cast a look back at her. “That is odd, isn’t it?”

“Speaking of odd, what do you say the odds are we’ll recover the gems, Mr. Fitzroy?”

asked Mr. Gibson.

Mr. Fitzroy whistled through his teeth and shot each of them a look that could only be construed as pitying.

“That’s as I thought,”

Mr. Gibson said miserably. “Whatever we repay Holcroft and Lady Dalrymple shall come out of my wages.”

He shot Allie a steely look with that pronouncement.

He knew she’d never agree. “We have insurance for just this occasion, Mr. Gibson. In truth, we’ve been lucky. There hasn’t been a theft at Princes for as long as I can remember.”

Her reassurance didn’t seem to make Mr. Gibson feel any better. Nor Allie, in truth. They both knew that the value of Holcroft’s diamond would exceed what their insurance could cover.

He stared forlornly at his rummaged workroom and mumbled, “The constable will be here soon.”

His words proved prophetic. Not five minutes later, a fresh-faced uniformed constable strode through the front door, and Mr. Fitzroy greeted him as if they were old friends.

In short order, Fitzroy had introduced Detective Constable Baker to each of them. Soon after, the young man had his notepad and pencil out and began making notes about the state of the back room.

The constable made the assumption that Mr. Gibson was the proprietor and directed all of his questions to him.

Allie still held Grendel in her arms. The cat had finally begun purring, but she seemed unnerved by the men’s voices, so Allie carried her to the main shop counter and let her sit atop it.

Fitzroy followed her out.

“Thank you for coming to check on us, Mr. Fitzroy.”

“You’re most welcome, Miss Prince. You can find me next door in the mornings if I can ever be of more assistance.”

He deftly drew out a card from his waistcoat pocket as he spoke. “And I’ll leave my card if you ever find yourself in need of a private inquiry agent.”

Allie examined the man’s card. “You’re the one who’s been watching the coffeehouse.”

She met his watchful gaze. “And I take it you’ve seen nothing of the men I overheard.”

“You’re the tip,”

he said quietly. “Of course you are.”

He laughed, but Allie wasn’t sure why. “It all makes sense now. But no, I’ve seen no man with dark glasses and heard no word of a jewel theft.”

“What do you mean that it all makes sense?”

He ducked his head as if suddenly hesitant to say more, though nothing about him struck her as a man given to hesitation. “Not sure Drake would want me to say.”

“Well, now I’m more curious than ever.”

Fitzroy chuckled. “He hired me with his own funds to test your tip. Not a common thing for a detective inspector at Scotland Yard to do.”

“I see.”

Allie couldn’t help but be pleased to know Ben had gone out of his way to investigate her story, even if via unconventional means. She only wished her tip and Fitz’s efforts had prevented the attempt on the Crown Jewels.

“How did you become acquainted with Inspector Drake?”

Fitzroy lifted a finger as if to bid her to wait. Something outside the shop windows seemed to have caught his interest.

“Why don’t we let him tell you himself?”

Ben descended from the carriage and was through the front door of Princes in three strides. He could finally draw a deep breath again when he saw her.

Alexandra was there, behind the counter, looking wonderful and well and in one piece, and his heart began to settle into a normal patter.

“Ben,”

she said on an exhale.

“Drake,”

Fitz called at nearly the same time.

When Fitz registered her quiet exclamation, he shot Ben an arch look.

Ben ignored his friend and beelined for Alexandra.

“Are you all right?”

It was the only thing he truly needed to know.

“I’m fine. Neither of us were here when the break-in occurred.”

“Thank God for that.”

The anxious knot in his chest loosened a fraction.

“And the loss consisted of only three gems,”

Fitz told him.

“Three very expensive gems,”

Allie put in under her breath.

Ben was having trouble focusing on anything but Alexandra. He scanned her features, attempting to discern how she was truly feeling. To his surprise, she shifted her gaze to Fitz.

“I wouldn’t say the loss was minimal, Mr. Fitzroy.”

She looked up at Ben again. “Lord Holcroft’s diamond was taken along with some sapphires for another customer.”

She nibbled at her lower lip and cast a glance toward the back room. “That diamond was sizable. Twenty carats, perhaps.”

Fitzroy sucked air through his teeth. “Didn’t know that. I’m sorry, Miss Prince.”

Ben reached out and placed a hand over hers, not caring what Fitzroy made of it.

When he turned back, Fitz was putting his hat back on and pulling his gloves from his pocket.

“Are you off?”

Ben asked him.

“Not much more I can do here. You made good time, my friend, but Detective Constable Baker arrived before you. He’s in the back with Gibson. He’ll be able to fill you in.”

Ben stepped toward him, and Fitz held out his hand, but Ben wasn’t interested in leave-taking.

“I need to speak to Baker,”

he told him quietly. “Will you stay with her while I do?”

“Of course,”

Fitz told him, but his brows rose as if the request perplexed him. “You think this is more than just a robbery?”

“I don’t know, but I mean to find out.”

“Are you two going to let me in on what you’re whispering about?”

Alexandra said, coming out from behind the counter and giving Grendel a reassuring pat on the head as she did.

“This won’t be my case, but I’m going to see if Baker will share what details he’s gathered. Fitz will stay with you while I speak to him.”

“I don’t require a minder, Ben. I’m all right.”

“Indulge me. It will only be a moment.”

As he approached the back room, he heard her frustrated sigh and understood. He knew she wasn’t a lady who’d tolerate such overprotective measures for long. From what he knew of them, her own family had treated her in such a manner, and he had no wish to cage or control her.

But after receiving Fitz’s note about the break-in, the worst memories of his life had been reignited, and during the carriage ride to Princes, those fearful images played out in his mind. He’d known when his brother went missing that he’d met some dire end. No one had believed him. But his gut had told him so.

That same feeling roiled in his gut now. The sense that this break-in couldn’t be put down to opportunistic robbery, or part of the usual cycle of crime statistics in Mayfair.

Demming’s words played in his head. That they were all just chess pieces being moved about.

He sensed the hand moving them, manipulating, striking fear, creating chaos.

And he could not shake the sickening feeling that Alexandra had become a pawn because of her association with him.

That sickening feeling deepened when he entered the back room of Princes and saw that chaos had been wreaked on this part of her shop. She hadn’t mentioned anything missing from her desk or shelves or inventory, and yet nearly every inch of the space had been ransacked.

“Sir, did someone send for you?”

Detective Constable Baker looked understandably shocked to see him.

Mr. Gibson nodded in acknowledgment. “Inspector.”

“Fitzroy informed me of the break-in,”

he told Baker. “I’m acquainted with Miss Prince.”

The young man’s gaze flickered with surprise, but Ben decided to leave the explanation brief. “What have you discovered?”

Baker gestured toward Mr. Gibson’s workroom. “As you see. An attack was made on the safe by force and yet it’s curious since some items were left and others were taken. If they went to all the trouble to break the safe, why not take all of it?”

“A very good question.”

“This is odd too.”

Baker picked up a teacup on Mr. Gibson’s workshop table. He tipped the cup so that Ben could see what was inside. “These bits of paper were found inside the safe. Looks like a torn-up letter, but they contain no writing but a few random letters on some pieces.”

Ben raised his hand, and Baker considered him a moment before handing over the teacup.

When he did, Ben strode to Gibson’s workbench and tipped the pieces out. Among them, he found what he feared he would. One torn piece contained an ornately written M in thick ink.

He swallowed back bile. “Take possession of these and have them photographed. I want a copy of those images when you do.”

“Why, sir? I didn’t realize this was your case.”

Ben stared the young man down until Baker clenched his jaw and gave one sharp nod.

“This may pertain to a case I’m working on and any evidence you collect shall be shared with me. If you wish to question that, put those queries to Haverstock.”

Helen was forever trying to teach him about chess gambits. Which reminded him that to catch a wily criminal, he often had to imagine their moves two or three steps ahead.

But it seemed he’d failed with M.

And now that failure had spread to touch Alexandra too.