“Why does the timing matter?” Miss Moore asked, looking to Wilberforce for the answer.
Charles flexed his hand, irritation coursing through his body. She hadn’t spared him so much as two glances the whole day. It wasn’t as though he sought her regard. Miss Moore was little more than an annoyance, a pest he’d much rather do without. But still, the dismissal rankled.
“A thief, well, criminals in general, tend to stick to patterns when they commit their crimes.” Wilberforce sank heavily into the chair behind his desk. “If a thief has become proficient in stealing from his victim while he or she is sleeping, it would be unusual for him to also steal in broad daylight.”
“Unusual but not unheard of.” Lady Mary set her cup down in its saucer with a clatter. “I must say I expected more from Johnnie’s men. This is the fourth burglary in as many months and you still have no suspects.” She sniffed. “I want my walking stick back.”
Charles ground his back teeth. Even Lady Mary calling Lord Summerset Johnnie, a diminutive he must surely hate, couldn’t restore Charles’s good humor. She was right. He’d been working this investigation for nigh on a month and he had fuck all to show for it.
“Did you ever find out what Lady Redgrave’s connection is to that gaming hell?” Wilberforce asked him. “Anything to do with our case?”
“No.” Charles shot a sidelong look at Lady Mary and Miss Moore. “Lady Redgrave’s connection to The Rook’s Nest is of a personal nature. She isn’t in debt.” The woman wasn’t shy with her favors, and the men she bestowed them on weren’t shy with the money and trinkets they showered her with. Devil had been just one more in her line of conquests.
Lady Mary pushed a strand of ivory hair off her cheek. “What about you, dear?” she said to Miss Moore. “Have you any ideas? I had hoped a woman’s perspective might help.”
Miss Moore gently pursed her mouth, her bottom lip plumping. “During the party, I was thinking how easy it would be for someone like me to be the thief.”
“Someone like you?” Charles stopped pacing.
She glanced up at him, their eyes connecting for the first time all day. For the first time since he’d grabbed her from the street. She couldn’t have looked elsewhere then, not with their bodies aligned and pressed tightly together.
She scraped her teeth over her lower lip, and Charles tore his gaze away from that ripe bit of flesh.
“Yes, a wallflower.” She primly crossed her ankles and looked between Wilberforce and Lady Mary, effectively dismissing him. Again. “Someone easily ignored.”
“You think a woman is the thief?” Wilberforce arched his eyebrows.
“No.” She raised a shoulder. “Well, perhaps. But I was thinking more of someone like Mr. Lincoln, Lord Wiltshire’s secretary. He snuck up on me once or twice. He is most unobtrusive. And perhaps serving a wealthy patron has made him envious of the finer things in life.”
Charles tapped his thumb against his thigh. “Wiltshire, and therefore Lincoln, were the only guests to attend two of the parties where the thefts occurred.”
“Meaning there were two thefts they weren’t present for.” Wilberforce frowned.
“That you know of,” Lady Mary said tartly. “Wiltshire is just the type of man I could see forcing his secretary to steal for him. Did you know last season he tried to repeal the Chimney Sweepers Act? Said eight-year-olds were just too big to adequately clean his flues.”
“You want him to be guilty,” Wilberforce said wryly.
“Yes, very much so.” Lady Mary’s sniff this time wasn’t so annoying, not when it was turned to a more proper target. “The man uses people abominably. And his mother was so kind. Such a pity.”
“Even if Wiltshire is the devil incarnate, it still leaves us with the problem of the thefts when he wasn’t a guest.” Charles began pacing again. “It has to be two or more people working together.”
“Or one person working under multiple names.” Miss Moore blinked and looked around the now silent room. “What? I just thought since we were put on a guest list under assumed names that someone else could, as well,” she said defensively.
“You do have a mind for this.” Lady Mary nodded approvingly. “Unfortunately, that would take Lord Wiltshire out of contention. He would be recognized no matter what name he used.”
Excitement hummed in Charles’s chest. He pulled the master list of all the guests that he’d compiled and handed it to Lady Mary along with a bit of lead. “Eliminate everyone who is too well known in society to pass under an assumed name.” He should have thought of it. They used disguises enough at the agency that he knew how effective they could be.
Lady Mary crossed out more than half the names. “There are likely more. I don’t know everyone in society.” She handed Charles the list and brushed at the charcoal stains from the fingers of her glove. “So. More disguises. I am beginning to abhor them.”
Charles drew his eyebrows together. “What—”
“I would think,” she went on, “that the key to success in most endeavors would be honesty. Trusting those around you to help when you need it. Pretense seems so unnecessary.” She smiled at Miss Moore. “Wouldn’t you agree, Cassie?”
Miss Moore laughed lightly. “I hardly think honesty would help a thief. In some things, pretense is necessary.”
“Hmpf.” Lady Mary stood and shook out her skirts. “Do let me know if I can be of further assistance. And Cassie, dear, I expect to see you at my club soon. There is much we need to catch up on.”
Miss Moore inclined her head.
