Page 54 of The Swan Detective (The Swan Syndicate #2)

When he seemed perplexed by her response, she sighed—loudly. “The last time I saw McDuff was an hour before Cheval kidnapped me. Are you suggesting he’s unaware of that? He must know Cheval is dead.”

He gave her a tight smile that didn’t last long. This man would never trust her. McDuff hadn’t trusted her, either, but at least he was a gentleman with proper manners. Good grief. Proper manners. Maybe she’d spent too much time in this time period.

“He did hear about Cheval and some auburn-haired woman who might have been responsible for his demise, but he had no way to validate who the woman was.” He leaned toward her as his tone chilled. “And wasn’t there something about a wedding?”

She did everything she could to stop the surprise from coloring her face, but her intake of breath gave it all away.

She blinked and took a long sip of wine.

If she didn’t slow down, she’d be drunk before the food arrived.

She could salvage this if she simply paused and put some pieces together.

Now that he’d mentioned the event, it wasn’t difficult remembering that moment with McDuff while Thomas yelled about her not escaping the wedding.

She’d forgotten that Beckworth had Thomas break up the dinner meeting because Cheval’s ship had been seen mooring on the other side of the docks.

She squirmed to appear uncomfortable, which wasn’t all that difficult. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing at full attention.

“That’s one of the reasons I’m in London.

” She sipped her wine and let her gaze flit around the room, as if she wasn’t prepared to discuss something so personal.

Her gaze fell on Fitz, who was in deep conversation with another sailor, but he caught her eye for a brief moment.

It gave her the lift she needed. “I’ve taken care of the problem. ”

His brow lifted, and he leaned back. He seemed intrigued. “And how did you do that?”

She straightened in her seat. “That’s none of your business.” She scanned the room again, her glass hiding the lower half of her face. “And it’s not safe to discuss here.”

If he’d thought her a dainty female before, he didn’t anymore. He gave her the first true smile of the evening. “Very good.” He pushed his mug and leaned in again. “Let’s discuss your proposition. How do you know about the jewelry?”

“I have a connection or two among the aristocracy. You’re not the only one raising capital for cargo.” She sat back and quieted as the plates were served. She took a bite of the pork, waited a moment, then nodded. Better than she’d expected.

“Go on.”

McDuff didn’t like to discuss business during dinner, but Leclair’s approach was fine with her. The faster they got through the meal, the faster she could escape back to the coach and Beckworth’s arms.

“I was at one of the balls where your thief took a necklace right off a lady, not two feet away from me. I had no idea what was happening, but she immediately knew it was gone and went on and on about the designer. It took a few days of boring garden parties to discover the thefts all had one thing in common—the same French designer.”

“And why are they of interest to you?”

Stella barked out a laugh that made several nearby people glance her way. She dabbed a napkin over her lips while she controlled her grin. “Because I’m a woman who appreciates fine jewelry, and I know how much a collection like that could sell for.”

“And why would I give them to you?”

She shook her head as if speaking to a child. “Please, Captain Leclair, I’m not new to this game. As I told your thief, I’m not asking you to give them to me. I’ll pay a fair price.”

He continued to hold her gaze. “I already have a very interested buyer. Someone close to the designer who died a couple of years ago. They hold a sentimental value.”

She rubbed her finger around the rim of her wine glass and narrowed her eyes. After a moment of contemplation, she leaned in, and her words were spoken so low, the captain was forced to hunch over the table. “More value than French arms?”

When his eyes lit with a new fire, only one word came to mind.

Gotcha.

B eckworth walked into the study at Templeton’s manor to find Barrington already seated in front of the fireplace with a glass of whiskey. The bottle and an empty glass sat on the table next to him.

“You put the coach up rather quickly.” Beckworth had made a stop downstairs, where he’d found Libby pressing one of Stella’s dresses.

He’d told her to go to bed, and while she nodded at his command, he knew she wouldn’t listen.

Stella had given her the entire next day and night off, and Libby wanted to ensure Stella had everything she would need before her return, even though Maggie had proven capable enough.

Since arguing with Libby rarely worked, he’d squeezed her arm and kissed the top of her head. “Thank you for watching out for her.”

She’d screwed up her face in disgust and waved him off. “Enough of that. You forget your place.” He didn’t miss her grin before she turned away from him to focus on the dress.

“One could say the same of a certain lady’s maid.” He was still smiling when he slowed his approach to the study to peek in the library.

Though it was late, Bart and Lincoln had their heads down, staring at the chessboard.

They played so frequently he doubted they counted their wins and losses anymore.

This was how they spent their time discussing philosophy, medicine, and current events.

Even living in his old cabin far away from London, Bart couldn’t stop his intellectual mind from churning.

And though time was taking a toll on his body, his mind remained sharp.

Beckworth was still considering various ideas of how to support Bart once Lincoln moved to London for his medical education.

Leaving Bart alone wasn’t an option, and removing him from his cabin would be equally detrimental to his mental health.

He still had some time, but it was narrowing.

With a sigh, he’d moved on to the study where he’d found Barrington.

Barrington poured whiskey into a glass and pushed it toward the empty chair. “Templeton’s staff enjoys having something to do. Two stable boys were waiting for the coach when we returned.”

“I didn’t see them.” Beckworth dropped into the chair and sipped his drink.

“Stella seemed tired, but Jamie said the meeting was a success.”

“It was, but you know what it’s like when on a job. Between the nerves and playing a role, even successful jobs can drain one’s energy.”

“And she does put a lot of energy into everything she does.”

“How do we keep getting sucked into these missions? I worry every time she’s on her own with these smugglers.”

Barrington didn’t respond, which meant he was gathering his thoughts.

He finished the whiskey and set down the glass.

“You have natural abilities that were encouraged and developed during your time with the crews. Those skills became beneficial to the duke, especially with your likeness to your half-brother. But it wasn’t until Hensley discovered your talents that your deeds became vital to the good of England.

And while we both grew up in the slums of London, our hearts still beat for our country.

It’s difficult for a man like Hensley not to use every ounce of his own skill to harness that talent. ”

“And it’s his own love of country that forces him to make those decisions. But why Stella?”

Barrington chuckled. “You still don’t see it?”

“She’s brave and smart. I do see that.”

“The two of you are the same. Oh, you don’t have the exact same skills, but what you do possess works well together. Her outspokenness can get her into trouble, but it also gets her out of it. She adapts and thinks fast. And she’s not above killing in the defense of others.”

Beckworth winced. “To save me. It’s not something I would have wanted for her.

” But he’d witnessed her ability to adapt since the first day they’d been on the run.

“Finn always worried that AJ enjoyed the adventure too much. I think it’s part of the reason AJ isn’t happy with us returning here. Both women have a wild streak.”

He drained his glass and rubbed his face before leaning back and stretching his legs. He could use a good, long sleep, but that would have to wait until the mission was over. “I’ve completely lost track of obligations. We must have missed several committed engagements by now.”

“Only one evening event, and it wasn’t anything of note. At least not in the circles where you endeavor to stay involved.”

He snorted. “Even those people are more interested in Stella.”

Barrington grunted in response.

“Have there been any more thefts? We have the thief now, but he could have snatched something else before this evening. And I’m not convinced the second bloke with him this evening was his partner at the parties.”

“From what Eleanor tells me, Elizabeth personally contacted the women who owned the remaining known pieces of the Deschanel jewelry. They’ve all promised to keep the items safely tucked away until they hear the thief has been caught.”

They spent another half hour discussing housekeeping notes and plans for after the mission. He left Barrington staring into the fire and made his way up the stairs, wanting nothing more than to spend the next two days locked in their bedroom with Stella. If only.

Stella was in bed as expected. The only light was from a single bedside lamp and the low flames of the fire.

He added two logs before removing his boots and clothing.

At times, he wondered why he bothered with a valet.

The poor man was rarely called into service with Stella around.

She enjoyed dressing and undressing him, and he could only shake his head.

He wasn’t any different when it came to Stella’s attire.

He opened the drapes that overlooked the garden. The moon was almost full, casting the gardens into pockets of light and shadow. He stayed there for some time as he let his mind wander.

“Are you going to come to bed anytime soon, or should I grab my robe and come to you?”

He left the window with the drapes open and added a third log to the fire before extinguishing the lamp’s flame and crawling into bed. She immediately rolled into him, and he held her tight, kissing her temple, her nose, and then her lips.

She sighed contentedly as she snuggled close. “What a day.”

“A successful one.”

“Will Hensley be able to get the firearms in time for tomorrow night?”

“Jamie will have the crates picked up before noon, then he’ll take them to the warehouse where we’ve been watching the clubhouse.”

“Is that safe?”

“As safe as anywhere. Hensley is supplying his own men in addition to several of Jamie’s crew to keep an eye on the wagon and the building. They’ll move the wagon into position an hour before the meeting. Now, let’s not worry about tomorrow night. We have a whole day to spend before then.”

“There’s a luncheon at some viscountess’s estate. I’ve already sent a message to Lady Howard with regrets for her evening party.”

“You’ll have to send your regrets to the viscountess as well. Perhaps you can invite her to a garden tea next week.”

“Why? What’s up?” She struggled to sit up, but he held her tight in his arms.

“We’re going to have a long morning sleep-in, then I’m taking you on another tour of London. We’ve barely scratched the surface on places I want to show you.”

“Are we inviting Eleanor?”

“We’re not inviting anyone other than Barrington, who will drive the coach.”

“Poor man. He must get tired of splitting his time between butler and coachman.”

“He actually enjoys driving the coach. It gives him time to catch up with the other coachmen, and he always brings along something to read.”

She nudged him. “I told you men like to gossip more than women.”

He laughed and squeezed her. “Are you in the mood for gossiping?”

“When aren’t I?”

He ran a hand over her hip and then lower to caress her thigh. “Tell me what Libby’s discovered from the kitchen maids while I focus on other things.”

He slowly worked his way down her body as she shared the latest gossip from the staff. He planted small kisses and gentle licks in all the right places until her throaty laugh encouraged more naughty things, and all thoughts of gossiping disappeared.