Page 13 of The Swan Detective (The Swan Syndicate #2)

“Elizabeth is holding court across the room from the musicians.” Flora nodded at a couple of women and stopped long enough for quick introductions before moving on again. “She doesn’t like shouting over them, but then who does?”

“Wouldn’t a drawing room be quieter?” Stella nodded to a younger couple Beckworth had introduced her to earlier. They didn’t seem high on his list of friends, but they’d seemed nice enough.

“Yes, but then she wouldn’t be seen by enough people. It’s not that she needs to be sought out by so many, but one must keep up appearances and their reputation.”

Stella never had the impression Elizabeth cared for such things, but she’d yet to spend much time with her in London. She supposed what one said and did at their country estates stayed at their country estates.

“There you are, my dear.” Elizabeth moved away from two women, who Stella guessed were a mother and daughter. “Sorry, Eloise, but you have all the information I know about Lord Hutton. I still think you’d be better off with Lord Fillmore, but that’s a decision you’ll need to make.”

Elizabeth took Stella’s arm and moved her and Flora toward the front of the ballroom.

“I think I’ve had enough socializing for the moment.

That woman can talk until it’s time for the carriages.

And I don’t know why she bothered asking my opinion on the best match for her daughter when she’s never listened to a thing I’ve said before. ”

“Well, she might have to this time,” Flora said as they worked their way through the crowd.

She stopped long enough to unfold her fan and cover her mouth.

She leaned over so only Elizabeth and Stella could hear.

“I have it on good authority that Lord Hutton has already made a proposal to Lord Dorsey for his oldest daughter’s hand. ”

“Dorsey, really?” Elizabeth seemed surprised, then she shook her head. “Hutton must want that country estate.”

“That’s what Edgar said.” Flora stopped long enough to grab a glass of champagne, and Stella gave the server her empty glass.

She was tempted to grab another one, but it would be a long night, and she needed to pace herself.

The threesome made it to the hallway, where it wasn’t quite as crowded, and Stella sucked in the cooler air. They were almost to one of the drawing rooms when there was a commotion behind them.

She turned as a large group surged toward them. Flora’s arm was bumped, forcing champagne to splash from her glass. Stella attempted to step out of the way, but droplets sprayed over her dress. Then she heard Elizabeth gasp.

When Stella turned to her, Elizabeth was holding a hand over her neck.

“Someone took my necklace.” Her face was pale. “Someone shoved me, and now it’s gone.” Her voice was becoming shrill.

“Are you sure it didn’t fall on the floor?” Stella pushed the women back and scanned the area, which was difficult with the crush of the crowd.

Elizabeth shook her head. “I felt fingers on the back of my neck.” She dramatically shivered. “I must have frozen because the next thing I knew, I was jostled, and now my precious necklace is gone. It was a priceless heirloom.”

Her friend’s devastation was plain to see, but she wasn’t sure what to do about it.

“I saw it.”

The women turned to find a middle-aged gentleman with overly long sideburns wiping what looked like champagne from his shirt.

It might have been from Flora’s glass, but several people had been bumped, so it could have been from anyone.

“The man was quick, but his hand gripped a silver and jeweled item before he stuffed it in his pocket. It happened in a flash, but I saw what I saw.”

“Which way did he go?” Stella asked as she began searching the crowd.

“Down the hallway toward the back of the manor.”

“Stay here,” Stella shouted to the women and stormed briskly down the hall.

She shoved people out of the way, shouting “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” as she stopped every so often to stand on tiptoes in an attempt to catch sight of the man in question. She’d been watching Flora and her glass of champagne, trying to dodge out of the way, and hadn’t seen the man at all.

The crowd was thinning as she traveled farther away from the ballroom. She knew she was on the right track when flustered guests peered down the hall in the direction she was headed. Was it the thief?

Then she saw him, or someone who might be the thief.

He wasn’t moving very fast, but he kept his head down as he maintained an even pace.

She quickened her steps as she followed.

Would one of the London crews be daring enough to steal jewelry from around someone’s neck during a ball?

Had there been more than one thief? Chester, who ran one of the larger crews, would never do anything so risky. At least, she didn’t think so.

She ignored the stares of the men and women she passed, ready to break out into a run.

When he turned for what Stella thought might be the solarium, and the foot traffic became scarce, she decided it was time to call for help, knowing she should have done it sooner.

But what if he had a weapon? People could get hurt, or maybe he wasn’t the thief.

Either way, now was the time to stop him and confirm it one way or another.

She was close enough that if she called out, he shouldn’t be able to get away.

Four men entered the hallway, headed in their direction. The possible thief slowed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. His head was still down.

“Stop that man!” Stella broke into a run, swearing at her shoes, which started to pinch. “He’s a thief!”

The four men glanced around, and Stella rolled her eyes as she gained on the man. Before she could reach him, the four men suddenly understood the warning. It was too late. The man bent low as he picked up speed and, leading with his shoulder, plowed into them like they were bowling pins.

While the four men weren’t able to stop the thief, they had managed to slow him down.

Stella grabbed for his coat, but as her fingers brushed an edge, she tripped over one of the men.

She landed on all fours and, after two attempts, managed to lift her skirts high enough to get back on her feet.

She raced after the thief, no longer caring who was watching or that she wasn’t acting like a proper English lady of the manor.

The thief ran through the solarium and out the door to the back patio. He flew down the steps with Stella hot on his trail. When he reached the dew-laden grass of a classic English garden, he stopped and turned.

Stella zeroed in on his face, somewhat shocked by what she saw. Though she didn’t know the man, she understood the leer.

She reached into her pocket with one hand while pulling up her dress with the other so she didn’t trip down the stairs. The man waited for her, but his eyes bulged when she yanked out her dagger.

He turned to run. With a last burst of speed, Stella leaped. She snagged a leg and held on. The unexpected attack threw the man off balance, and they tumbled onto the lawn.

He had size and weight on his side, but she swung out with her dagger and heard a quick intake of breath. A fist slammed into the side of her head, and it sent her reeling. She reached out one last time, but once again, his coat slipped through her fingers.

Her head hurt like a mother, and when her breath returned, she could only watch the man flee into the darkness.

Three other men raced past her as they chased after him.

While they disappeared into the night, Stella struggled to get her feet underneath her before she was suddenly lifted up and spun around. She grabbed her head.

“Don’t do that.”

The dagger was stripped from her hand.

“What the bloody hell were you thinking? You could have gotten yourself killed or stabbed.”

She heaved, gasping for breath, her head pounding, but managed to glance up into Beckworth’s angry and worried face.

Concern overruled his irritation as he shoved the knife into an inside pocket before he held her face in his hands. They were gentle as he took in every inch of her. When his hand moved over the right side of her head, she winced and pulled back.

“Ouch.”

“Alright. Alright. Let’s get you back inside, or at least to the patio so you can sit and catch your breath.”

She was pulled tight against him in a bear hug she couldn’t possibly escape from. His cheek rested on the top of her head, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, turning her head to lean her left cheek against the security of his chest.

“If I’d lost you to a pickpocket, I’d hunt down every crew member until I found the one who did it. I might do that anyway. I know the necklace that was stolen and how important it was to Elizabeth, but you should never have taken it upon yourself to run recklessly into danger.”

“No,” she managed to spit out before his grip tightened.

“I love you, Stella, but you scare me every time you do something so foolhardy.”

She pulled back from him. “I don’t think he belonged to a crew.”

Beckworth pushed her to arm’s length and read her face. His anger over her actions might be returning, but he knew her well enough to listen to her. He might not believe what she had to say, but he’d give her the chance to speak.

“Go on. What do you mean he’s not crew? How could you possibly know that?”

She shook her head, then thought better of it as she held a hand to the sore spot.

“I don’t know, and I know you’re going to find it hard to believe.

After being on the Daphne Marie , living among sailors, and watching for smugglers in all those pubs and inns while searching for McDuff—well, I can’t put my finger on any one thing.

Not at the moment. Something might come to me later.

Assuming I don’t have a concussion or a brain aneurysm.

Maybe it’s just a headache, but I feel like my head might explode. ”

“Stella. Just for this one moment, can you please say it without all the preamble?”

She stared at him. Dim light leaked from the outside torches, and it darkened his cornflower-blue eyes to a midnight blue. Deep lines marred his forehead in worry. She sucked in a breath and straightened, though it made her head pound more.

“There was something about him that seemed different yet familiar, and I can’t explain it any better right now. But the minute he ran, my first thought was ‘sailor’.”