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“It’s a novelty right now, so people are curious.

Not everyone who comes in is here to buy.

But trade is brisk and I can’t ask for more.

I had to get Gerry in to help mind the shop just so I can attend to the rest of the business.

And yes,” she added, scowling at Solomon, “he knows the rules and keeps his nose clean.”

“I never thought otherwise,” Solomon said mildly.

*

Since they were making use of Constance’s town carriage, she had instructed her coachman to go first to Solomon’s house behind the Strand.

“I’ll collect Janey from the office,” she said, as Solomon sat down beside her. “She won’t close up until one of us tells her to.”

“Will you tell her we are engaged?” he asked as the horses pulled them forward.

She shifted position, gazing out of the window. “I don’t know.”

He was silent for several heartbeats, though she could feel his gaze on her averted face. “If you don’t want to do this, tell me.”

Blindly, she reached out, seeking and finding his hand, though she would not turn her head. “I do,” she whispered, gripping hard. “I just don’t know where to start. I can’t tell Janey because she will tell the girls, even by accident.”

“Then why don’t you tell your girls?”

“Tell them what?” she demanded. “That I am about to make them homeless, turn them out, sell the roof over their heads? Sacrifice their future to mine?”

“ This is what’s been bothering you?”

After a few moments’ more silence, he touched her chin and she closed her eyes as, inexorably, he turned her face toward him.

“Constance. I would never ask you to sell your establishment. I understand what it means to you and the good you do there.”

She forced her eyes open, furious that a tear—of pure frustration, of course—caused her to dash her free hand across the corner of her eye and glare. “Do you also understand that when I marry you, you will own everything of mine? You , Solomon Grey, will be the owner of a brothel!”

His lip twitched. Was that laughter glinting in his eyes, or just relief? It was hard to tell in the flickering lamplight.

“That is certainly not respectable,” he said gravely. “But I doubt anyone but the reformers will hold it against me. It might cause a certain amount of ribald laughter in the clubs, but in gentlemen-only matters, few will care.”

“They will when your wife is seen there,” she retorted. “And I do need to be there, Solomon.”

“To live?” he asked expressionlessly.

“No… But my frequent appearance is necessary, not just to keep the place running smoothly and safely, but to keep the girls and the clients happy. I haven’t given those duties up for Silver and Grey, and I don’t want to now.

Only…” She sucked in a wobbly breath. “There is you. I don’t want such a wife for you. ”

His thumb caressed her chin. He leaned forward, his hat obscuring the lamplight from the window, and softly kissed her lips. “There is a solution, Constance. There is always a solution to our puzzles, is there not?”

Her smile felt a little tremulous. “So far.”

“It will require some thought. In the meantime, might you not just tell them you are engaged to be married but that the establishment will remain under your control?”

“I could tell them that,” she said, doubtfully.

Some would know he could sell the place without her consent or even her knowledge if he so chose, but the women trusted her, and Janey would speak up for Solomon.

It was a short-term solution while they solved the real problem, and for the first time, she began to think they might. Together.

She squeezed his hand gratefully and he sat back, rather to her disappointment. She liked his kisses… “Do you suppose every couple faces so many complications?”

“Probably. But they needn’t all be troublesome ones. Don’t you think it will be fun finding a new home and making it our own?”

She peered at him. “You want a new home?”

“Mine is too small. Yours is too scandalous. Shall we devote some time to that too?”

“Yes,” she said, straightening with a smile. “Why don’t we?”

The carriage drew up outside his front door. In sudden panic, she realized he was leaving her again, and she didn’t want that. She clung harder to his hand, as if he had been trying to withdraw it—which he hadn’t.

“We should dine together,” she said abruptly.

Either the invitation or her tone surprised him, for his brow twitched very slightly. “I would like that.”

“Does your man cook?”

“We have an actual cook. Tomorrow is the opera. Shall we say the day after?”

“What’s wrong with tonight?”

He smiled and raised her hand to his lips. “Tonight, you have to tell Janey and the rest of your staff.” He kissed her gloved fingers, then drew back her glove and kissed the inside of her wrist. “And then you will be more comfortable. Goodnight, Constance.”

She sighed. “Goodnight, Solomon.”

*

To Constance’s surprise, there were no lights in the offices of Silver and Grey. She had just discovered that the front door was locked when Janey came flying around the corner from Chandos Street and skidded to a breathless halt.

“Ah, there you are, ma’am! I locked up, but I can get you some tea if you want to go back in?”

“No, we can take the carriage home now.”

Janey grinned, for she loved a carriage ride, and opened the door for Constance with an exaggerated flourish.

“I got loads to tell you,” she said as soon as she landed on the seat opposite Constance.

The horses eased forward while Constance regarded her former handmaiden. “New prospective clients? You and Lenny Knox have discovered something about the Lloyds?”

“What’s Lenny Knox got to do with anything?” Janey demanded aggressively, although betraying color was seeping into her face.

Lenny had proved useful very useful in discovering the truth about their previous case—in which he had begun as a suspect—and since he needed the work, they had agreed to call on him whenever necessary. He, a recent and devastated widower, and she, a former prostitute, had become unlikely friends.

“Nothing, except you are good for him,” Constance said. “And I would be glad someone other than my mother was keeping an eye on him.”

Janey waved that aside. “It’s not about Lenny or the Lloyds. It’s about Bibby Barton.”

Constance blinked. “Who’s Bibby Barton?”

“Working girl, on the game over by Haymarket. Told you about her the other day ’cause I don’t think she should be on the streets. Too young and too soft to last many winters.”

Constance rubbed her forehead with consternation. “You did tell me. I’m sorry, I can’t have taken in her name. I’ve had a lot on my mind. What about her? Is she ill?”

“Only in spirit. All she has in the world is the locket her ma gave her when she left her in the orphanage as a baby. It ain’t worth anything, trashy thing really, but she loves that locket and she’s gone and lost it.

Devastated, she is. I was helping her look around for it, then I thought I’d better dash back here in case you or Mr. Grey showed up.

I didn’t leave the office until five,” Janey added defensively.

“You are more than conscientious, Janey,” Constance said.

Janey grinned. “I know I am. Thing is, I told Bibby I’d speak to you about the locket. About finding it.”

Constance blinked. “How are we to do that? Did someone take it?”

“Might have done. Can’t trust men. She had it when she went out but not when she came home. We searched her lodgings and the place she waits for business, but saw no sign.”

“You didn’t give her hope, did you?” Constance said uneasily. “We both know she’ll never see it again. A child might have picked it up off the street, one of the women might have found it and kept it, or it might just have been lost in the rubbish…”

Janey’s face fell.

“I’ll go and see her,” Constance said. “But the best I can do for her is take her back to the establishment—and I will if you’re vouching for her.”

“I am,” Janey said, with a quick smile, but even in the gloom of the carriage, Constance could see she was still troubled.

Constance took a deep breath. “Look, I think it’s a lost cause and a waste of time.

But I could be wrong, so if you think there’s a chance of finding this locket, you can spend half your day doing so.

You know what to do—speak to the girls who were close by, speak to her customers, find out if anyone saw anything, and who passed by at the time.

See if anyone wished her ill for any reason, who fought with her. ”

“No one fights with Bibby—she ain’t that kind of girl. But I’ll do all the rest. Thanks, Mrs. S.”

“Ask Lenny to help, if you like,” Constance offered recklessly. She was already lending out a paid employee of the firm for no return, and now she would have to pay Lenny too.

Janey looked horrified. “God no, I couldn’t do that! He might find out—” She broke off, turning her head away.

“Your past?” Constance said calmly. “If he is ever to be a real friend, he will have to know. Besides, he’s the sort of man who understands about desperation and poverty. He’ll be proud of what you’re doing now. Which reminds me, I have news, too.”

Janey turned back to face her. “Really?” she asked eagerly. “What?”

“I’m going to be married.” It didn’t seem to get easier to say, and the reactions were never quite what Constance expected, either.

Janey stared at her, jaw dropping. “Who to?”

“Mr. Grey,” Constance said frostily.

Janey’s hunched shoulders relaxed. She even grinned.

“Oh! Well, that’s all right, then. I like him.

He’s a good man, if there is such a thing.

In fact, wouldn’t mind—” She broke off hastily.

“No wonder your mind’s wandering! Bloody good excuse for a party, though—I’d love to dance at your wedding!

” She frowned. “Mind you, he won’t want the likes of us there…

” Her eyes suddenly widened. “Wait, though, what about Silver and Grey?”

“It will still be there,” Constance said. “In fact, when I tell everyone at home, I’m relying on you to help reassure everyone that there will no changes to the establishment.”

Janey’s eyes widened. “Likes of him wouldn’t come and live with us there!”

“No, of course not. But even if I am there less, I will be there and I will be in charge.”

“And he doesn’t mind that?”

He must do. He has always minded … “He knows what and who comes along with me.” Constance noticed she had crossed her fingers and hastily uncrossed them.

*

Barnabas Lloyd took the newly delivered parcel into his study after dinner. It no longer seemed quite so exciting to unwrap the objects within. But it was the only way to admire his treasure, the only proof he had that he had ever found and possessed it.

Slowly, he unwrapped the parcel and spread the contents over his desk. Several glass plates and the photographs printed on paper from them. Some were taken on the island, amongst the reedy, swampy ground where they had dug the treasure up, some on the deck of the ship.

Quickly after that, he found his favorite. Barnabas himself, dressed in his light suit and sun hat, stood beside the chest, which was held open by two of his men grinning at the camera. Sydney and the others crouched around it looked awed and happy.

All the photographs were unexpectedly clear and sharp—Sydney, his chief informant about the latest process, was right about that—and this one managed to portray something of the sparkle of the treasures visible within the chest. Barnabas wished the picture could show the extraordinary colors, rather than the mere shades of light and dark.

But even so, it was a fine photograph, and one he would have been proud to show in the exhibition of his treasure he had planned to hold around the auction.

His smile faded. Someone in his household had betrayed him.

He wanted to believe it was an outsider who had somehow broken in without leaving a trace, but that was even more unlikely than the alternative.

Perhaps the strangely refined Silver and Grey could find out and relocate his treasure. Perhaps the police could.

Unlikely. It would be broken up and sold for a pittance.

He ran his finger over the photograph, almost caressing the flat, colorless treasure.

A brief knock sounded at the door.

“Enter,” he called.

Sydney wandered in. “Garrick said you wanted me.”

“Just to show you these, since you were so interested in the process.”

“The photographs!” Sydney’s step sped up until he peered over his father’s shoulder. “These are excellent. I still wonder if there is a way to make a living in photography?”

“You are a gentleman,” Barnabas snapped. “You do not earn a living .”

“Then I’m likely to starve,” Sydney retorted. “Since your precious strong room couldn’t hold the treasure that was to save the family fortunes. At least until the next expedition.”

Barnabas curled his lip. “Then by all means go out into the world,” he said, spreading his arm toward the window. “Make your own way. Don’t let me hold you back. I’m sure there is a place somewhere for a talentless dilettante who is best at drinking, gambling, and whoring.”

Sydney straightened. “Which reminds me,” he drawled. “Best get on. Goodnight, Papa.”

Barnabas felt like hurling the glass plates after his son as he sauntered insolently out of the room. Fortunately, he had not reached that level of self-destruction.