Lord Clifford still hung out a reward for the return of the necklace but made clear he wanted no one else in his household accused. Pomeroy continued to try to hunt down a thief, but because he could turn up no evidence of anyone else having taken the necklace, he soon moved to other, potentially more lucrative cases. I hadn’t yet told de la Fontaine that his daughter’s legacy had been tossed into the river, trying to decide how to impart this without betraying Lady Clifford.
Not half a week later, James Denis sent me a letter—brief and to the point—instructing me to pay him a visit. He’d send a carriage for me to avoid my excuses of not having enough shillings to pay my way across town.
I disliked obeying commands from Denis, but this time, I was interested in what he had to say. Denis’s sumptuous coach carried me to Curzon Street, and once inside the house, I was ushered into his uncluttered study.
Denis waited, his hands folded on the blank surface of his desk while one of his pugilist footmen gestured me to an armchair and poured a glass of brandy for me. As soon as he and a second footmen took up their places—one at the door, one by the window—Denis spoke.
“I have found the diamond necklace belonging to de la Fontaine,” he said.
My brows shot up. “Found it? Muddy, was it?”
Denis’s eyes flickered, and for the first time since I’d met him, I sensed that I’d puzzled him.
“I located the necklace in France,” he said.
“France?” My turn to be puzzled.
“In the possession of a minor aristocrat in the court of Louis XVIII. A minor aristocrat willing to give up the necklace for a fraction of its worth, because he was too ignorant to understand its value. According to his story, he bought the necklace from an Englishman in London three years ago and carried it back to France with him when the Bourbon king was restored to power.”
My mind swam as I struggled to rearrange facts. “What Englishman? Clifford? Three years ago? He was certain?” But what then had Mrs. Dale thrown into the Thames?
“I had the necklace examined by a jeweler,” Denis continued. “One of mine. He is the best in the business and quite reliable, I promise you. He proclaimed the diamonds real and the necklace de la Fontaine’s. That means, Captain, that the stolen necklace you and Mr. Grenville have been chasing all over London is a copy, a paste replica. You have been led down the garden path.”
“By whom? Clifford?”
“Assuredly, since he is the man who sold it to the Frenchman.”
Bloody hell.No wonder Clifford had been so furious with Grenville and me for trying to find the necklace. Lady Clifford had made a fuss and gained the attention of Bow Street, but then Lord Clifford had done everything in his power to stop the investigation and deter Pomeroy. I wagered that Clifford didn’t care two figs for how much we’d disturbed his household; he was only worried that we might reveal he’d been forced to sell his wife’s jewels and humiliate him. Damn the man.
Denis opened a drawer, drew out the necklace, and laid it on a velvet cloth on top of his desk.
The diamonds glittered against the dark cloth, facets white and sharp blue in the candlelight. The center stone was the size of a robin’s egg, perfectly cut from what I could see. The surrounding pieces, large diamonds encircled by smaller ones, were just as fine. I was no expert in jewels, but even the slowest person could see that this necklace was remarkable.
“It could be yours, Captain, if you wish it.”
I lifted my eyes from it, entranced. “What on earth would I do with such a thing?”
“Sell it, give it to your lady, restore it to de la Fontaine . . . Whatever you like.”
I sat back, my enchantment with the jewels gone. “For what price?”
“You are a resourceful man, Captain. I could use you, as I’ve told you before. Pledge yourself to me, and the necklace is yours.” His voice held nothing, no emotion, his face, even less.
“You’d never believe I would agree to that, would you?” I asked.
“Not really.” He nearly smiled, as close to amused as I’d ever seen him. “But I thought it worth a try.” Denis closed the cloth over the magnificent diamonds and slid them back inside the drawer.
“That belongs to de la Fontaine,” I said.
“De la Fontaine does not have the resources to buy the necklace back from me, nor does he have much to offer me in kind. He has cut off all ties to anyone who might be useful to me, preferring to live quietly in middleclass London with his daughter and grandchildren. He at least has found contentment with his family.”
“Which is why you should return the necklace to him,” I said in a hard voice. “He wishes to give it to his daughter.”
Denis pressed his palms flat on his desk. “You have a strong sense of fairness, Captain, which is why I continually attempt to recruit you. I have not said I would not give the necklace to de la Fontaine. His son-in-law has a political bent. He hopes to win a seat in the House of Commons as soon as he can. Perhaps I can help him with such a thing.”
Which meant that Denis would control that seat in Commons, and de la Fontaine’s son-in-law would back any bill Denis wanted him to, vote the way Denis wanted him to—jump up and touch the ceiling whenever Denis wanted him to.
“For once, could you not do something out of benevolence?” I asked. “Imagine what such a gesture would do for your credibility.”
