Page 10 of The Swan Detective (The Swan Syndicate #2)

Stella fingered the opal necklace, which, along with the matching opal bracelet, was one of the most expensive gifts Beckworth had bought her.

The leaf-shaped hairpin had been his first gift, and she still treasured it.

But she couldn’t forget Beckworth’s lust-filled expression when he’d found her waiting for him wearing nothing but the opal necklace.

Her cheeks flushed, and she searched for a change of subject.

“Eleanor said tables were being set up in the garden.”

“Oh, yes.” Mary sat at the head of the table and glanced around. “That’s for the garden party later today. We’re still missing Beth.”

“She’s always late.” Elizabeth placed a large stack of notes in front of her. Invitations.

Now, Stella understood. This was the group of close friends who would collaborate over the party invitations. When she noticed the others setting their invites on the table, she pulled out her own short stack.

“Look at that.” Agatha pointed to Stella’s invitations. “We weren’t sure if you’d received any. Didn’t you just arrive yesterday?”

“They’re addressed to Beckworth. He sent letters out as soon as we arrived to let his friends know he was in town.”

“Well, of course,” Agatha said. “But my guess is they’re more interested in seeing you.”

“And you’ll receive many more after Beckworth shows you off at the first party.” Elizabeth took her stack and separated it into three smaller ones. “We might have to do this again in a week.”

“Oh, yes,” Mary said as she stacked her own invites in front of her, also separating them into three piles. “We can have a private garden party.”

When Stella glanced around the room, the others had also separated their piles. Eleanor, who’d sat next to Stella, took her pile and spread them out like a dealer at a blackjack table. Before Stella could ask her what she was doing, a footman entered with a young woman trailing behind him.

She was younger than Stella and seemed a bit timid. Her dress was elegant and probably cost a small fortune, yet she clearly seemed out of her element. The footman led her to the open seat next to Stella.

“I’m so sorry I’m late.” Her voice was light and barely audible. When Agatha frowned, she cleared her throat. “I can’t seem to get enough sleep these days.”

The women glanced at each other and smiles broke out.

“Seems that old fool your father married you off to finally got a seed in you.” Elizabeth nodded with acceptance. “Now, he should leave you alone. Hopefully, it will be a boy, then you can find a nice young man to keep your bed warm.”

Stella wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be appalled, but after glancing at the others, she decided to keep her mouth shut when everyone nodded. Even Beth grinned.

Elizabeth brought Stella up to speed. “Beth’s father is a duke with strong connections at court. He thought it would be advantageous to marry his only daughter to a wealthy and powerful man who has one foot in the grave.”

“So typical,” Agatha replied. “I’m surprised he was able to get a child on her. But, soon enough, he’ll be gone, and Beth will be able to choose another suitor. This time without as much influence from her father.”

Good grief. Nothing like being prized as a brood mare.

Mary, catching Beth squirming under the attention, turned the conversation to the reason they were there.

“We’ll go through the invitations, starting with our declines.

Might as well weed those out first. Stella, since this is your first time, take a look at the ones Beckworth received and pull the ones that match the names we call out. ”

Once that round was completed, they went through the ones that were deemed required attendance.

The stack of maybes, which fell into that category either because they conflicted with another party or the women wanted to know what the others thought before making a decision, was discussed last. Mary then reminded everyone to be discreet should any of the declined invitations be from someone who attended the garden party later.

It didn’t take long for the conversation and occasional laughter to fill the room as they worked their way through the invitations.

Stella, unable to help herself, made origami swans out of the declined invitations and set them around the floral arrangement.

Mary and Eleanor were aware of her skill at crafting them, and the others begged to take one home with them.

Stella was happy to let them go and told Mary she could have the remaining ones to share with the staff.

She was thankful when the conversation returned to the parties.

“Well, I think we can all agree that we can’t pass up Spencer’s ball.

” Elizabeth looked at Stella. “He’s a duke and hosts one of the largest balls.

Though the timing isn’t the best.” Elizabeth reviewed the invitations that were still in her maybe stack.

“It’s interesting that Beckworth received an invitation so quickly. ”

“The ball is in two days,” Mary said. “Any later and they couldn’t expect Beckworth to accept.”

“True.” Agatha tapped on the pot of tea, and one of the footmen took it away. Not a minute later, another pot was set in its place once her cup was refilled. “But I see the problem. It’s not the best one for Stella’s first foray into society.”

“What about Lady Percy’s party tomorrow night?” Beth spoke up. “I know it’s short notice, but I think she’d be pleased if we all accepted. It seems the right size to give Stella an idea of what to expect.”

The women looked around the table, a couple of them reviewing their maybe stacks.

“She makes a good point,” Mary said. “And I don’t see any other that would provide the same experience.”

Elizabeth sighed. “She’ll probably expect us to attend every year after this.”

“Nonsense,” Agatha answered. “We’ve always declined with the reason of conflicting invitations. We’ll simply state that we have an opening this year. That way, it doesn’t suggest any further commitment.”

When everyone nodded, Mary called the gathering to a close. Eleanor made a quick escape, claiming to check with the housekeeper for final preparations for the garden party.

The rest of the day was a blur as Stella met the rest of Mary’s friends, names she remembered from their review of invitations, while others were new names to store away. Through it all, she couldn’t help thinking of Beckworth and what he was doing with his day.

L ight mist was still burning off under the mid-morning sun along the Thames.

A light breeze ruffled Beckworth’s hair as he strolled along the docks.

Though the horse ride with Hensley had been exhilarating, this walk brought back memories of his youth and early days in the crews.

He breathed deeply, and with the combined scents of salt and fish, he could almost hear his mother calling for him.

Once upon a time, those thoughts would have brought him shame and heartbreak.

Shame that he hadn’t done enough for his mother.

Heartbreak, that in the end, he hadn’t been able to save her.

He no longer had those feelings. His mother would be proud of who he’d become.

Perhaps not in the way he’d made it happen, though it had been her idea to seek out the crews rather than stealing on his own.

She’d always believed in safety in numbers and having someone at your back.

They both knew stealing was wrong, but survival had a way of twisting one’s morals.

Eat or starve. Find warm shelter or freeze.

Stealing from the rich seemed to be the only solution.

When Beckworth discovered he was a bastard son of a duke, living along the shanties on the Thames while the duke ate from a banquet table… Well, it had warped him further.

Beckworth trained to become a specialist. His mentor, an old crew leader who had survived a stint in Newgate, had taught him how to spy, how to read a mark, how to pick locks, and the best ways to kill a man.

Once he’d seen his half-brother, who could have been his twin, Beckworth had seen an opportunity and sought out the duke.

He didn’t like what he’d become, but he’d gotten in so deep he hadn’t seen an expedient way out.

Not until AJ Moore came along. If he were honest with himself, it was earlier than that.

The moment he read the duke’s letter from France, and Beckworth felt the weight of the Mórdha stone in his hand, he knew his life was about to change.

He snorted. If he’d only known the half of it.

All those years, he’d hardened his heart, put his head down, and done what was required to open doors.

When AJ had given him the chance to become a better man, a man his mother would have approved of, he took it.

And in doing so, he built trust with those he’d once considered enemies.

He’d always been a generous man to those less fortunate. He understood them—their struggles, their heartaches, their lost dreams. And he’d found friends in the aristocracy who accepted the newcomer. Yet, his heart remained locked down until he came face to face with a spirited red-haired spitfire.

Stella had seen past all his facades and peered into his dark soul, overlooking all his misdeeds. She’d saved him more times than he could count, and not just his life. She’d ripped down the barriers he’d built around his heart. She loved him. He didn’t know what he’d do without her.

It didn’t escape his notice that while he was walking the docks, she would spend her day with the women of the aristocracy, planning which soirees and balls they would attend while he was on another of Hensley’s missions. A mission he couldn’t tell her about.

His first major lie. It tasted bitter.

A soft whistle broke him out of his introspection, and he turned toward the sound. It took a few more steps before he spotted Jamie behind a stack of crates.

Jamie blew warm air into his hands and then rubbed them. “I forgot my gloves. I’m not sure the sun is going to break through the mist.”

“Give it another hour, though I doubt it will do much to warm our backsides.” Beckworth sat next to him and squirmed to get comfortable. “Here, this should warm your hands and your belly.” He handed him a meat pie.

“Mrs. Brubaker’s?”

Beckworth laughed. “Where else?”

Jamie eagerly bit into it and closed his eyes. Once he’d swallowed, he moaned with delight. “Eleanor makes an excellent meat pie, but there’s something about huddling on a dock with a fresh pie from Mrs. Brubaker.”

“I remember cleaning out fish buckets to earn enough coin for a pie.”

“It was mutton stew in southern Ireland. I mucked out the pig stalls for a warm bowl.”

“Stella calls the meat pies comfort food. The same would be true with your mutton stew.”

“Comfort food. Aye. That’s a good name for it. The memory is enough to bring on that emotion.”

They finished their pies in silence, occasionally glancing around the crates at the ship docked two berths over.

When the last bite was gone, Beckworth brushed off his hands and pulled out a flask. He shared the whiskey with Jamie.

“Anything of interest this morning?” Beckworth asked.

“Fitz saw a few sailors return from the pubs, but he didn’t see anyone he recognized. I’m adding Michelson and Lane to Fitz’s shift. He wants to follow some of the blokes and get a sense of whether they go to the same pubs or move around.”

“Good plan. We might learn just as much from the sailors as the captain or his first mate. How many men have you put on watch duty?”

“Several. Some have family close by, so I’m using those who are staying on the ship while at port. Fitz, Lando, Michelson, and Lane will take the most watches since they can identify the major players. That leaves just one or two shifts for the rest of them.”

“Sooner or later, the captain and his mates will leave the ship. It shouldn’t take more than a handful of days to get what we need. Then we can spread out our surveillance.”

They watched sailors come and go into the afternoon, though most stayed on the ship performing maintenance.

Beckworth thought he recognized one man, but after further study, he shook his head.

The build was right, and the movements were similar, as was the hair color, but when the sailor turned and he got a full view of his face, he had been wrong.

When Jamie noticed the next shift find a spot not far from them, Jamie nudged Beckworth. “Time to go. Same time tomorrow?”

“Sure. You have plans tonight?”

Jamie grinned. “There might be a lass in my future.”

“Be careful, or you’ll end up with a lass you’ll trade the Daphne for.”

“I won’t be falling into the same trap as Finn.”

“Or me?”

Jamie held his grin. “Don’t jinx me, mate. It’s not time to think about settling down.”

Beckworth glanced up to where the sun discouraged the last of the clouds. “To be young and free. But, I guarantee, someday you’ll be blindsided, then nothing else will matter.”

Jamie chuckled. “We’ll see. How are you keeping this secret from Stella? Seems to me you’re walking a fine line.”

Beckworth ran a hand through his hair, his focus on the ship they’d been watching. “Mary and Elizabeth will have her too busy with luncheons and garden parties to worry about me. She’ll assume I’m catching up with old friends.”

“That’s one way not to feel guilty about the lying.”

Beckworth didn’t respond. How could he? Jamie wasn’t wrong.

Jamie gripped his shoulder. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He shook his head. “No. You’re right. It’s the first time I’ve outright lied to her.” He ran a hand through his hair again. “Even though she hasn’t asked what I do during the day, I know in my heart I’m lying.”

“With any luck, she’ll never find out. Once we identify the ones in charge, the Daphne ’s crew can follow them and see what we can learn. That will give you more time to spend with her. But be careful. She’s a smart one.”

“You have no idea.”