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She refocused on the needlework in front of her, spotting innumerable misaligned and clumsily large stitches. Mama would not be pleased. For a little time, she wondered whether or not she cared, then gave a resigned sigh and unpicked what she had already done.

She had almost redone it when Rachel whisked back into the room.

“They’re looking at the chest. Again.”

“Why? If it’s not the original treasure chest?”

Rachel shrugged. “Maybe they’re looking for false bottoms and hidden compartments? Though Sydney says there was too much to be hidden in such a place. They suspect it’s a good copy, made by someone who knows carpentry.”

“Well, that lets all of us off the hook. Though we’d have to have been quick anyway, to knock it up during the night. Even if there were a point, which I can’t see.”

“No, they know it wasn’t made here. They think it was made on board the ship, and switched there with the treasure. Remember?”

“Well, neither Papa nor Sydney know anything about carpentry!”

“They could have paid someone.”

“Why on earth would they do that?”

“Actually, I can’t think of a reason, unless it was some complicated ruse to save the treasure from thieves and it went awry.”

Jemimah stared at her sister, frowning. “It’s possible, I suppose. Papa would never admit it. Sydney might. Why don’t we ask him?”

“Or we could ask Ben.”

“Ben? What has he to say about anything?”

“He can do carpentry. He told me once. His father made him learn practical things so he didn’t grow up useless, like real gentlemen.”

Jemimah opened her mouth and, finding herself speechless, closed it again. At last, she said, “Ben was not on the ship.”

“But he has connections among shipowners and sailors. And he might have managed to swap the chests somehow on the quay. Or perhaps Papa did that to fool the thieves and Ben took advantage by breaking into the strong room that night.”

“You are thinking,” Jemimah said slowly, “that Ben…”

“…sucked up to you to get his hands on the keys and find out exactly when the treasure would be here, so he could steal it.”

“And marry me on the strength of the proceeds?” Jemimah said in disbelief. “Where did you acquire such an imagination?”

“Oh, just observations,” Rachel said modestly. She laughed. “Don’t look so worried, Jem—I don’t believe it either.”

And yet it would, Jemimah thought bleakly, explain Ben’s recent absence. He didn’t need her anymore.

She got up suddenly and threw down her work. Seizing Rachel by the arm, she pointed her at the schoolroom desk. “Finish copying that or Mama will find you out. Find both of us out!”

Rachel sat with a perfectly understandable sigh of boredom. Honestly, what was the poor child expected to learn by copying out endless passages of worthy drivel?

“Perhaps we should go on an outing tomorrow,” Jemimah said impulsively.

“Mama won’t let us go alone.”

“Well, if she doesn’t, and she won’t come herself, we can always take Aunt Aud. Though she will twitter.”

“I don’t mind her twittering. She’s funny with it.”

Actually, she was, Jemimah remembered, as she ran downstairs to catch Mrs. Silver.

Mr. Grey and the workingman were hovering, waiting patiently for Constance to button her coat.

“Oh, Mrs. Silver,” Jemimah said brightly. “I wonder if I might have a word? Good afternoon, Mr. Grey.” She spared him a curtsey, because he was a handsome man even if he was quite old, but kept her attention on Mrs. Silver.

The lady’s brows rose slightly, but she turned to the others, saying, “Go on without me. I’ll make my own way back to the office.” She smiled at Jemimah. “What can I do for you, Miss Lloyd?”

Jemimah led her quickly into the small reception room, where no one would be at this time of the day, and shut the door. And then, although she had meant to inquire about dressmakers, she told her about Ben instead.

*

Constance, who had been looking forward all day, with a rather delightful frisson of anticipation, to dining at Solomon’s house, was now desperate to speak to him.

Jenks, the same discreet, lugubrious servant she had encountered the only other time she had been here, welcomed her with a bow and a small smile.

He took her coat and hat, then led her up to Solomon’s large drawing room, which appeared to be also his dining room and his study.

It was, she reflected, a comfortable place for a lonely man who had no intention of entertaining.

But it was not a home. There were few personal touches, save an oil painting of a ship above the fireplace, and one of lush, sunny countryside on another.

She wondered if it were Jamaica. There were no portraits or mementos of any other kind.

The intimate round table was set for two.

Solomon himself, elegant in evening dress, turned from the sideboard and came to meet her.

The last time she had been here, he had been rather endearingly flummoxed, though he had quickly veiled every expression.

Now there was open pleasure in his melting, dark eyes, and her heart gave one of its foolish little flutters.

He took her hand and kissed it, then leaned down and kissed not her cheek but her lips. “I have been looking forward to that all day.”

Her stomach tied itself it knots. There was no doubt this time that she was the one who had lost her bearings, and he the one in control.

This was a glimpse into the successful Solomon of the business world, the man who had decided what he wanted and was delighted to be going after it.

Against all the odds, he wanted her . And not as the tarnished trophy most other men saw. It was terrifying. It was wonderful.

Tongue-tied, she accepted the glass of sherry he had poured out, and rather desperately reached for what she had been so eager to tell him.

“Ben Devine is competent at woodwork,” she blurted. “I’m not sure what it means, if anything, because I still don’t see how he could have copied the chest in time, even if he had been at the docks to see it unloaded. Nor can I see the point, yet, but I thought it was interesting.”

“It is interesting,” he allowed. “And his father does have shipping connections.”

He led her to the group of comfortable chairs by the fire, indicating she should sit on the small sofa, where, to her pleasure and disturbance, he joined her, not quite touching. She sipped her sherry—excellent, of course—and hoped her fingers were not trembling. This was ridiculous.

“But we think now the chests were switched while still aboard ship,” she said, “so I’m not sure that this helps us—just muddies the waters even further. Unless there is a connection between either him or his father to Captain Tybalt or Samuels the ship’s carpenter.”

“I couldn’t find one in my inquiries this afternoon.”

“The other interesting thing about Ben,” she continued, “is that he has stopped calling on Jemimah Lloyd. She is afraid he was merely using her to get close to the treasure. Which could now be in his possession.”

Solomon nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps we should look into any other changes in his behavior. And whether or not he has plans to leave the country.”

“I gather his father is in the north, where Ben is avoiding joining him. I thought it was Jemimah that kept him in London, but perhaps it isn’t.”

“Did you get the impression that Jemimah might have been in league with him? Stolen the keys at least, if not the treasure itself?”

She shook her head. “If Jemimah did it, either alone or with Ben or Sydney or both, what is the point of the fake chest? I even wondered if Lloyd himself had ordered the fake chest because the original was falling apart, and an aged chest full of treasure looks so much more impressive for all his family and friends and intimate gentlemen’s club lectures.

But I can’t see why he would not have told us. ”

“We already know he is selective and often misleading in what he tells us and everyone else around him. I don’t recall ever dealing with anyone quite so…

slippery.” He raised the glass and drank.

“I have learned rather more about Captain Tybalt, too. I did wonder why he always seemed to be available, often at short notice, for Lloyd’s expeditions.

Lloyd’s pay is hardly generous, and not enough to live on with often years between voyages. Nor are his crew the top of the trees.”

Constance set down her glass. “And?” she said eagerly.

“There was a tragedy when he sailed for onetime partners of mine. He was shipwrecked, losing several men and all his cargo. These things can happen at sea all too often, but in this case, there were accusations of drunkenness and incompetence on the part of the captain. Also, that he had swindled from previous cargoes.”

“Not quite the clean potato,” Constance murmured. “Do you think he and Samuels were in it together? Created the fake chest to give themselves time to flee the country?”

“It’s the likeliest solution I’ve come up with. It would explain Tybalt’s reluctance to give us Samuels’s real address.”

Constance caught her breath. “Samuels has already left the country with the treasure, and Tybalt will follow at leisure…”

“Possibly. On the other hand, it’s human nature, sadly, to kick a man when he’s down.

Tybalt could have made mistakes in his past and paid for them with the loss of his reputation and much of his livelihood.

It’s more than possible he never stole in his life.

Either way, we need to speak to him again. And to Ben Devine.”

Constance nodded and picked up her glass again.

“We don’t seem to be getting any closer, do we?

Every minor discovery just jerks us from suspect to suspect without any real evidence against any of them.

Meanwhile, the treasure could be sailing further and further away from us.

Literally. This could be our first failure, Solomon. ”

“Oh, we’re not defeated yet. Not by a long chalk.”

The manservant appeared. “May I serve dinner, sir?”