“As I was saying,” Mr. Palmer went on, “I worked for a builder, and ’e trusted me wif the keys to ’is workshop. A workshop that ’ad tools and materials, all o’ it worth a pretty penny. About a year ago, I woke up to find my keys and Ralph gone. ’E used my keys to get into the workshop and cleared it out.”
“And left us ’olding the bag.” Wielding a knife, Mrs. Palmer took her rage out on a carrot. “All our savings and our ’ome went toward paying for ’is crime.”
Bea had a great deal of empathy for the Palmers, who seemed like decent folk. She knew intimately what it was like to have the actions of kin affect your future, whether you liked it or not.
“We ’ad to pay the debt,” Mr. Palmer said stiffly. “It were a matter o’ honor. Ralph may not care ’bout the family name, but I do.”
“And where did that get us?” Mrs. Palmer demanded of the room at large. “After that incident, Mr. Palmer couldn’t get steady work, despite being the best carpenter this side o’ the Thames.”
“The lady and gent don’t need to ’ear all our troubles, Mabel.” Clearing his throat, Mr. Palmer said, “Ralph was responsible for our misfortune, but ’e weren’t the only one. I blame that female ’e was stepping out wif as well. ’E was always short o’ the ready trying to keep ’er ’appy.”
“That one was always be’er than she ought to be,” Mrs. Palmer agreed. “Didn’t ’ave the common courtesy to pay us a visit. Only met ’er once, in the street wif Ralph, and Miss Hoity-Toity all but ran away rather than be seen wif us.”
“What was her name?” Bea asked curiously. “What did she look like?”
“Mary Smith…don’t know much else ’bout ’er. She did ’ave looks and knew ’ow to do ’erself up like a lady,” Mrs. Palmer said reluctantly. “Blonde, blue-eyed, and pretty, like one o’ em porcelain shepherdesses.”
“When was the last time you saw Ralph or this Mary Smith?” Wick asked.
“Since ’e ransacked the workshop, Ralph knows be’er than to show ’is face ’round ’ere.” The carpenter slid a significant look at his wife, who went on chopping as if she wished it were Ralph on the block instead of the vegetables. Lowering his voice, he added, “But a few days ago, I ’eard talk about ’im being in town.”
Bea’s pulse sped up, her gaze meeting Wick’s. Randall Perkins—Ralph Palmer, that was—might be in London this very moment?
“Where was he seen?” Wick asked.
“Someone said they spotted ’im at The Baited Bear, but I talked to the barkeep—a friend o’ mine—and ’e couldn’t confirm seeing my nephew. I’m sorry I ain’t got more to tell you and even sorrier for whate’er trouble Ralph’s caused you both,” Mr. Palmer said gruffly.
“It’s not your fault, sir,” Bea said. “You’ve been most helpful.”
She rose, the men following suit.
The carpenter took back his sleeping babes. “Least I can do.”
“My company is always in need of good men.” Wick took out his card, leaving it on the crate. “If you’re looking for work, tell the manager I sent you.”
Surprised emotion tautened the carpenter’s face. “Sir…I don’t know what to say…”
“Thank youwill do,” his wife declared. “OrHallelujah!”
34
Unable to sleep,Bea came down to breakfast early the next morning. She was glad to see Wick already in the dining room, a freshly filled plate in front of him. He rose to greet her courteously and asked the room’s other occupant—a footman—for some of Cook’s currant jam. As soon as the servant departed, Wick took her into his arms and kissed her thoroughly.
“God, I missed you,” he murmured.
She ran her fingertips along his smooth-shaven jaw, inhaling his spicy-crisp cologne.
“I didn’t sleep nearly as well without you beside me,” she admitted.
Due to the dowager’s presence, they’d mutually decided to forgo their bedtime activities for the time being. Wick didn’t want to do damage to Bea’s reputation, and Bea didn’t want her future mama-in-law to have additional reasons to dislike her. For despite Wick’s assurances to the contrary, she knew that the dowager did not think she was a suitable match for her son.
While she could learn to live with the Dowager Viscountess Carlisle’s ill opinion of her, she didn’t need to add to it. It was clear that Wick loved his mama, and the dowager doted upon her younger son. The idea of causing strife in the relationship churned Bea’s stomach.
“We’ll figure out better arrangements soon.” Wick kissed her knuckles. “You could, of course, let me make our engagement public. If you don’t mind a small wedding, I could get a special license. Then you’d be mine, and this nonsense of sneaking into bedchambers would be done with.”
“Let’s not worry about that just yet.” She forced a smile. “With the discoveries we made yesterday about Randall Perkins—or Ralph Palmer, I should say—I know we’re getting close to unmasking the villain. We can’t afford distractions, and there’s no harm in waiting a while longer to make things official.”
And to make sure our happiness will last.
