Page 19 of The Swan Detective (The Swan Syndicate #2)

“I was expecting Jamie again.” Beckworth sat on the ground, positioning himself so he had a clear view of the dock and the Nighthawk .

“He decided to have one of the yard arms replaced and wanted to help since most of the men have been given leave.” Fitz sucked on his pipe, though it wasn’t lit. Not while on surveillance. His focus never left the dock.

“He’s turning out to be a fine captain.”

“Finn taught him well.” Fitz grinned as he took another smokeless puff. “And just like Finn, he gets fidgety when he’s stuck in his cabin for too long.”

They sat in companionable silence, leaning against barrels as they watched a string of sailors from multiple ships wander back and forth between the docks and town. After an hour, Beckworth sat up, forcing Fitz to follow.

“What is it?” Fitz whispered.

“That bloke looks familiar.”

Fitz leaned toward Beckworth as he searched the string of men leaving the ship. “The one behind the big bruiser?”

“Yes.”

Fitz squinted. “Wasn’t he on one of the ships in the cove where Cheval was loading cargo from the jolly boat? Maybe the first mate?”

Beckworth thought back to when he, Fitz, and Lando had watched two ships in the cove from a high point on the surrounding cliffs. The men had been loading long crates onto The Horseman that were the perfect size for rifles. “The Tidewater . We never saw her after that.”

“Maybe the captain decided to fill a gap now that Cheval is out of the way.”

“Either way, I think we should have someone follow him.”

“I’ll go. Let’s leave Lane in place in case someone else comes along.”

Lane and another sailor watched from another spot farther up the dock.

There were times when the docks were deathly quiet, with only the creak of a ship as it knocked against its mooring.

Then, before you knew it, the docks were filled with so many sailors milling about that it was impossible to track anyone.

Fitz moved swiftly, stuffing his pipe in his pocket.

A few minutes later, he fell in behind the suspected first mate of the Tidewater , now either a passenger or a new crewmate on the Nighthawk .

Fitz made a hand signal as he passed the spot where Lane was holed up, then stuck his hand in his pocket and focused on the ground.

He might look like he was just another sailor heading for the pubs, but Fitz would have a steady eye on the first mate.

Ten minutes later, another sailor from the Daphne slipped in beside Beckworth.

“Lane sent me in case you spot someone else.”

Beckworth nodded. “Did everyone get a look at the first mate?”

“Lane thinks he’s the captain.”

“Well, that’s interesting. I wonder what happened to The Horseman and the Tidewater .”

“Probably still plying their trade on the west coast.”

If that were the case, this bloke, who just got off the ship, either decided to get out of the smuggling business after Cheval’s untimely death, or Hensley’s team had only scratched the surface of McDuff’s network.

McDuff had told Stella that he’d amassed a group of ships.

Was the Nighthawk part of that network? And if so, what were they doing in London?

B arrington opened the carriage door and helped Stella and Eleanor step down. “I’ll return in a few hours to retrieve you. I have a few errands to run.”

“Take your time. Mary will want to spend time in the drawing room after lunch.” Stella took a few steps but stopped when she heard Barrington chuckle behind her. She turned and lifted a brow. “You couldn’t wait until we were inside to laugh?”

Barrington didn’t appear chastised, and his grin only widened.

“She really is getting better.” Eleanor’s attempt to show solidarity with Stella would have gone over better if she hadn’t been hiding a smile.

“I don’t know what the fuss is about being able to embroider,” Stella mumbled. “I need to introduce lawn darts as an acceptable pastime.”

Neither Barrington nor Eleanor knew what lawn darts were, but they chortled as Stella picked up her skirts, turned her back on them, and, lifting her head high, marched up the steps like a queen.

She might appear regal on the outside, but the thought of stabbing her fingers with those damn needles made her shiver.

She should have brought her first aid kit.

Hensley’s butler waited at the door, and though she’d accepted that none of Hensley’s butlers would ever smile, she gave him a bright one of her own. He didn’t disappoint when he responded with a simple nod and a placid expression.

A housemaid waited in the foyer and led Stella and Eleanor to the solarium, where a table for six had been decorated as if they were joining one of Mary’s garden parties. Four women were already seated and in full conversation.

Lady Agatha saw them enter and lifted her glass of wine. “There you are. We were wondering when you’d show.”

“I didn’t realize we were late.” Stella was certain they were fifteen minutes early.

Flora Melville, who sat next to her, smiled at Stella and patted the open spot next to her. “You’re not. Agatha was eager to check on Elizabeth.”

Before Agatha could respond, Stella jumped in, her focus on the dowager. “And how are you today?”

Elizabeth waved a hand in dismissal and took a long drink of what looked like a gin and tonic. The woman drank it like soda, but Stella couldn’t blame her. Not after a night like last night.

“I wish everyone would stop asking. It just makes me relive the entire event. I’d rather put it behind me.”

“Don’t you want to get your necklace back?” Stella took the seat next to Flora and leaned back when a footman placed a glass of wine in front of her.

Elizabeth waved her hand again and turned to look out the window, a faraway look in her gaze. Was she reliving the event again, or a memory about the necklace? “It’s gone. They’ll never find it. The wicked thief has already sold it, and probably for a farthing of what it was worth.”

“That necklace was one of only a handful made by Louis Pierre Deschanel.” Agatha fiddled with her necklace as she glanced at Elizabeth. “Surely, the inspector will find it.”

Stella couldn’t help rolling her eyes, and Eleanor must have caught it because she smirked.

“What’s wrong, Stella?” Mary asked. “Do you know something?”

She hadn’t expected to be put on the spot.

Someday, she’d learn how to be more demure in this century.

Who was she kidding? Demure just wasn’t in her wheelhouse.

She wasn’t sure where to start. While everyone waited for her, their gazes hopeful, she drank a long swallow of wine.

She hated to disappoint them, but neither would she hold anything back.

“I keep wrapping my head around a few things. First, was he alone?” When the women’s expressions turned skeptical, Stella pressed on. “Well, think about it. We were standing in the hallway, and then this huge surge of people came at us, knocking us around. Seconds later, the necklace was gone.”

“Someone created a distraction.” Flora was so matter-of-fact the women turned their gazes on her. “What else would explain so many people stumbling forward unless someone pushed them? If it was the thief, how would he have gotten to Elizabeth so quickly?”

Mary held a hand to her mouth. “What if they were after Elizabeth’s necklace?”

The women gasped, but it was Eleanor who spoke. “You’re saying they knew about the necklace and, for some unknown reason, arranged the theft on the off chance she’d be wearing it? It would be easier to break into her manor and steal it.”

Stella’s thoughts whirled. She hadn’t considered the thief might want that specific necklace. “She always wears it.”

Her words had been mumbled, but Elizabeth asked, “What did you say?”

Stella glanced up, her thoughts so chaotic she had to replay what she’d said. “I remember you mentioning you wore it almost all the time.”

She shrugged. “I might have. It was the last present my husband gave me before he died. This particular piece meant even more since he’d commissioned it from the jeweler.”

“That’s why they’re so rare.” Agatha picked up the story. “The order would have been placed months in advance. The communication between London and Paris takes a month in itself.”

“It was made in France?” Stella asked. Surely, the fact the necklace was from France, which was currently at war with England, was simply a far-fetched coincidence. When the women nodded, it posed another question. “Does anyone know what was stolen from a party three nights ago?”

“There was another theft?” Elizabeth’s eyes, partially glazed from the gin, widened in shock. “I hadn’t heard that.”

Mary and Flora shook their heads, also surprised.

“I heard about it, but everyone thought it was taken from an aristocrat in debt.” Agatha sipped her wine, then relaxed back in her chair, an impish grin on her face, seemingly pleased to be the only one with the gossip. “It was at Eloise’s party.”

When the other women nodded in understanding, Stella racked her brain, vaguely remembering the name. She snapped her fingers when the memory of them reviewing their stack of invitations came roaring back. “Didn’t I hear that name regarding a garden party?”

Mary nodded. “Yes. Eloise holds a small ball and a garden party each season. In fact, I believe the garden party is in a couple of days.”

“It’s tomorrow, actually,” Elizabeth said. “But that explains why I didn’t hear anything. She stopped inviting me to anything years ago.”

When the others nodded in agreement, Stella became confused. “Well, someone must have been invited if we had an invitation for it.”

This time, Eleanor piped up. “I believe Beckworth received the invitation.”

Stella looked at Agatha. “Did you hear what was stolen?”

Agatha shook her head. “I didn’t pay that much attention. If I’d thought it would happen again, I would have.” She glanced at the ceiling, her finger tapping her cheek. “A broach. Maybe a bracelet. It might have been a necklace. Oh, I can’t remember.”

“Did we respond to the invitation?” Stella asked.

“Well, no dear,” Mary said. “Not unless you did. The invitation wasn’t for us to respond to.”

“If I sent a note accepting the invitation today, would that be rude?”

The women laughed, but Agatha of all people gave her an out.

“You’ve only been in town a few days. If you tell her you were overwhelmed by the number of invitations and just realized you’d overlooked hers or something to that effect, I’m sure she’d understand.

Besides, I have no doubt they want to get a chance to meet the viscount’s consort. ” She winked at Stella.

“So, who wants to go with me?” Stella glanced around the room, her eyes on Eleanor, who refused to look up from her plate, where she pushed food around like a six-year-old attempting to hide the vegetables.

“I don’t have anything planned.” Flora’s face was pinched, but she gave Stella a weak smile.

“I don’t receive invitations from her either, but she still speaks with me at social gatherings.

Her husband has a few business dealings with Edgar, so if I arrive as your guest, she can’t say anything.

” Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “If you show up with me, don’t expect an invitation from her next year. ”

“What do you hope to accomplish?” Elizabeth asked.

“I want to know if there’s anything in common with that theft and the one from last night.”

“Isn’t there an inspector working on the theft?” Mary asked.

Elizabeth’s interest seemed to have waned as a new gin and tonic was placed in front of her.

Stella couldn’t blame her. She reached for her opal necklace.

If someone ever stole it, she’d be drowning her sorrows, too, until her anger turned her into that woman who kept dragging a crossbow around with her.

She didn’t mind carrying Elizabeth’s burden for another day or so.

Once the woman got past her grief, the anger would come.

Then she’d help Stella in any way she could.

“The inspector interviewed me this morning. I hate to say this, but I don’t think he’s taking either theft seriously. Besides, isn’t this what all the parties are for—gossip? It can’t hurt to know what happened and what was taken.”

For the first time since Stella arrived, Elizabeth’s eyes cleared, and a conspiratorial smile appeared.

When Mary changed the topic, Stella glanced at Eleanor and was surprised to see the woman nod with a sly grin.

The game was afoot.