Page 39 of The Swan Detective (The Swan Syndicate #2)
The scraping of a spoon on the bowl made everyone turn to Bart, who swallowed down the last drop. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, then pushed the bowl aside before the footman could get to it.
“Don’t worry about me. I don’t get involved in other people’s affairs.” He winked at Stella. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy watching the games. Especially with all the covert activity going on around here.”
“What does that mean?” Stella asked. Did he mean the women’s activities or something else?
“We’re off topic.” Elizabeth clanged her soup spoon on the side of the bowl until all conversation stopped. “I understand from Libby that the crew was able to follow the thief to a pub down at the docks.”
“That’s right.” Stella scanned the footmen in the room, hoping Barrington hadn’t paid anyone to spy on them. She wouldn’t put it past him to be devious on Beckworth’s behalf. “And since the theft was last night, we’re hoping the thief is taking a night off.”
“How is that supposed to help us?” Flora asked.
Stella leaned back as a footman removed the soup bowls. Once the main course had been served, Stella laid out her and Libby’s plan to find the thief and see if he led them to others.
“That sounds dangerous.” Mary pulled out her handkerchief and blotted her forehead. “Wouldn’t it be better to tell Beckworth and Hensley?”
“They never saw the thief. They wouldn’t be able to identify him.” Eleanor’s statement was logical, and the women glanced at each other.
“They could at least go with you for protection.” Flora nibbled at her food as lines creased her forehead.
The women were worried for her safety, and she understood, but their plan had always been to find the thief.
This was their opportunity. Though it was becoming clear that some of them hadn’t thought they’d actually find the thief, let alone track down where he went.
They were finally understanding the power of the crews.
“I’ll be there to drive them to the pub.” Lincoln, who never said anything during meals, appeared confident in his ability to keep them safe. She didn’t know what defensive skills he had, but she was thankful for his support.
“There you have it.” Elizabeth, who was back to drinking gin and tonics, signaled a footman to take her plate.
She’d barely touched her food. “I trust Stella knows what she’s doing, and besides Lincoln, she has the crew.
” She took a long sip of her drink and gave Stella one of her dowager stares.
“We should have solid information to share with Beckworth by morning.”
“Well, I won’t be able to wait until morning.” Eleanor buttered a dinner roll. There was nothing wrong with her appetite. “I think I’ll forgo the drawing room this evening in favor of a nap. I want to be awake when Stella returns.”
Flora giggled. Something Stella had never heard the stately woman do. “This is marvelous. It’s all so dark and mysterious. Why don’t we all do that? We can have hot cocoa or a brandy in the library while we wait.”
The women, alive with the excitement of intrigue, were all smiles as everyone waited for plates to be cleared so dessert could be served.
Stella kept her eye on Bart, who’d kept his head down, focused on his food, during the entire conversation.
But he took a moment to lift his head and give her a wink.
He was having the time of his life. And if he’d been watching her and the women, what did he know about Beckworth and what he might be up to?
B eckworth stepped down from the coach and glanced around, not looking for anyone in particular but more as habit. His senses didn’t give him any warnings, so he nodded up at Barrington, who clucked his tongue and drove the carriage away.
This wasn’t the gentleman’s club he or Hensley usually frequented, but that was the point, especially for a clandestine meeting. The footman at the door gave a slight bow before opening it to the waiting butler inside.
Beckworth took a moment to look around. This wasn’t the most upscale club he’d been in, nor the most aged, but it was sufficient for this evening’s meeting. At least he hadn’t lied to Stella that he was going to a gentlemen’s club.
“Good evening, sir. Are you a member?” The butler gave Beckworth a quick perusal and, finding him to be dressed appropriately, retained a welcoming expression.
“No. I’m here to meet with Mr. Black.” Beckworth tugged at his sleeves, an affectation he thought he’d gotten away from, but it seemed to fit the moment. It was followed by a dusting off of his sleeve for a piece of lint that wasn’t there.
“Ah, yes, sir. I believe most of your party is already here.” He turned and waved for a footman. “Please escort this gentleman to the Gold Room.”
Beckworth scanned the rooms as they passed, keeping his head low, but he didn’t see any familiar faces. For a city as large as London, finding a meeting location where someone wouldn’t be noticed could be challenging, but it would be too dangerous to take André to Hensley’s manor.
Muffled voices drifted from the room at the end of the hall.
He nodded his thanks to the footman and waited for him to leave before knocking twice and opening the door.
Everyone was already there. Hensley, Jamie, Lando, Fitz, and André filled the leather chairs in what was more a drawing room than a meeting room.
He stopped to pour a glass of whiskey before taking a seat on the couch.
“We weren’t sure if you were going to make it after being away from Stella for so long.” Jamie gave him a wink, and Beckworth resigned himself to the teasing as Fitz and Lando added in their own rubs.
“It would have been better if I hadn’t arrived home to discover a household of women staying at the manor.”
Hensley huffed. “And they’ll be there one more night. I must say the manor is much too quiet without Mary.”
Beckworth had a feeling it was more than that. There was no doubt the housekeeper and butler kept everything running smoothly under Mary’s tutelage, but a man missed his woman no matter the situation.
Two knocks at the door made everyone turn around to watch Barrington slip in. Rather than take a seat, he leaned against a bookcase, and other than nodding at everyone, he retained his butler air.
Hensley turned his attention to André. “Do you understand your role in this endeavor?”
André shrugged and ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I go in for an ale, complain about my English captain, and hope to make contact with my French compatriots.”
“More like your Irish captain,” Lando joked, and everyone laughed while André gave them a sheepish grin.
“And your goal?” Beckworth asked.
“To receive an invitation to join them in their secret clubhouse.”
“I’ll wander into the pub a few minutes behind you.
” Fitz puffed on his pipe, the scent blending with Hensley’s cigar and filling the room with hazy smoke.
“You might not recognize me, but I’ll be there.
If you’re lucky enough to get an invite this evening, Lando—” he nodded to the big man who’d taken a seat rather than lean against a wall like he usually did, “—will follow from a safe distance. I’ll be behind him.
If we think you’re in trouble, we’ll get you out. ”
“Don’t be too eager.” Beckworth had faith in the man, though he couldn’t say why. This was a risky opportunity for Hensley, but for André, it was a chance to return home.
André gave Beckworth a long look before speaking, and for the first time, Beckworth worried he might say something that made Hensley question the wisdom of the mission.
“The only thing I owe any of you is for getting me out of that prison. But I have nothing other than your hospitality and a chance to make some money to see me back home to France. I’m no sailor, and I have no desire to be a smuggler. I only want my freedom and money for a new start.”
“And if this French captain offers you more money than us?” Hensley asked. Jamie had already asked the question of André, so Beckworth expected the same answer, but it was important for Hensley to hear it straight from the source.
André released a slow grin. “Let’s hope your offer is better than theirs.”
The men glanced at each other, but Beckworth wasn’t worried. It was an honest answer.
André must have guessed the concerned glances were questioning his loyalties, which was only to be expected since he was a Frenchman being asked by the English to spy on his compatriots. So he delivered the additional words Beckworth had anticipated.
“My uncle raised me to have no values, no honor, and no future. My sister left me for the English gendarmes. I’m not a spy by nature. At this point in my life, I have few needs. Prison has taught me that much.”
Jamie was the first to speak, and he made no bones about his feelings.
“I need an honest man for this job, regardless of your nationality. If you help us determine what this French captain has planned, or give us any information of value, I personally guarantee to see you to France with enough money for a good start.” He glanced around the room.
“In fact, I know a group of Frenchmen who would be willing to get you back on your feet and provide you with something worthwhile to work for.”
Jamie was speaking about the monastery and the small port where the merchants and monks ran their own smuggling operation to bring food and supplies to the people in northern France.
“If all you need is information, that is something I can do. I don’t think I have to pretend that I’m down on my luck.” André turned to Beckworth, who nodded to him.
“I’ll be there as well, mate. This isn’t our first mission.”
André nodded and stared into his glass of whiskey.
He seemed to be internalizing something, and with more vigor, he nodded one more time as he looked at each of the men.
“This has been a great deal to take in since yesterday.” He finished the whiskey in one gulp and held up his glass. “I could use another.”
Beckworth took the liberty of filling everyone’s glasses and was blindsided by Hensley’s change of topics.
“We’ve had a fourth jewelry theft since you and Jamie were away.”
“When was this? Stella didn’t mention it.”
Hensley’s brow lifted. “Interesting. It was last night, and I took the liberty of checking with Inspector Littlefield. He appears more invested; however, he’s hesitant to reopen the case because he still doesn’t see a connection between the thefts.
Other than adding a guard or two at the more prominent balls, he has no idea how to prevent them or determine where they will happen next. ”
Beckworth considered the day he’d spent with Stella.
Neither of them spoke of the last few days, and now that he thought about it, that was odd.
It wasn’t that Stella was overly nosy. She was a curious person by nature, and yet, she hadn’t asked for details about his time away.
At the time, he’d been grateful because he was tired of lying to her. But now, he wasn’t sure what to think.
“Has Stella mentioned anything about the thefts?” Hensley asked.
“No. I only returned home this morning, and we spent the day at Hyde Park. The parties never came up.”
“Why are the women staying at Templeton’s manor?” Lando asked. “Is that normal?”
Beckworth didn’t really know. He’d never paid attention to what women did with their day, unless it had been someone he enjoyed spending time with.
“It’s not unusual.” Hensley’s brows scrunched together.
“Though not as typical when in London. Mary simply said the women would be attending several gatherings within a handful of days, and they thought it would be fun.” He trailed off, and his sharp eyes landed on Beckworth.
“What did Stella say about you having an appointment tonight after being away for three days?”
Beckworth squirmed in his seat as the men watched him. The crew from the Daphne grinned, already guessing the answer.
“She was fine with it.” In fact, from his recollection, she’d switched the topic to something more intimate. He shook his head. Something told him she’d played him while he’d been devious with his own plans.
Fitz broke out with a full-bellied laugh. “I believe the master spy has just been outwitted by a woman.”
Even André laughed with the men, and Beckworth had to accept it. What the hell was she and the other women up to? He thought Libby was the problem, but it was the whole lot of them. And he had no one but himself to blame.
He glared at Hensley, whose smile seemed shrewd. He was the real one to blame. Beckworth wouldn’t be in this situation with Stella if it hadn’t been for him.
Was it possible the spymaster was running his own game?