I shrugged. “If she is the evil viper Lady Clifford paints her, she either passed it to a confederate to dispose of it for her, or she is hiding it to pin the blame on the maid and upset Lady Clifford.”
“A dangerous proposition. Would Mrs. Dale risk hanging to gloat over her rival?”
“I have no idea,” I said. “The ways of lady rivals are unknown to me. But if the maid or other servants stole the necklace, we will find it at a pawnbroker’s.”
“Yes, but which one?”
“We check them all,” I said.
Grenville gave me a look of dismay. I had always wondered how Grenville would respond when my adventures turned into dogged work, but to his credit, he did not try to wriggle out of his offer to help. “It will take less time if we recruit Bartholomew and Matthias and divide the search.”
“Some areas are more likely than others,” I assured him. “Not every corner in London sports an unsavory pawnbroker. And the theft will be talked about. We might be able to pry loose some information, at the very least.”
Grenville squared his shoulders, wincing a little because the wound he’d received during our last investigation still pained him. “Very well. I will change my boots and soldier on.”
The carriage listed around the corner, and I braced my walking stick against the floor to steady myself. The handle was shaped like a the head of a goose and bore the inscription,Captain G. Lacey, 1817.A gift, and a fine one, and it gave me an idea.
“I know someone who does understand the ways of lady rivals,” I said.
Grenville knew exactly whom I meant. He shot me a grin. “Ah, but will she help?”
“Who can say? She will either be interested or show me the door.” Lady Breckenridge was nothing if not unpredictable.
“Her observations are usually directly on the mark,” Grenville said. “I saw her last week at a garden party, where she told me that if I’d hurt myself during the Sudbury affair, it was my own fault for not taking proper care when it came to you. Any friend of Captain Lacey, she said, was bound to come to some kind of danger, and that I was a fool to take what you did lightly.”
My fingers twitched on the walking stick. “Considering I almost got the poor woman roasted alive, that remark was almost kind.”
“And probably true, with regard to me. I tend to believe myself untouchable.”
I still hadn’t quite recovered my guilt over the incident, though Grenville had cheerfully taken the entire blame himself.
“I will write to her,” I said. “And discover whether she will condescend to see me. If she does not think it too dangerous to associate with me.”
“She would be an excellent person to ask for the lady’s point of view.”
“I hesitate to mention it,” I said. “But so would Marianne. She’s been an actress for some time, so she’d have seen female rivalry, as well as, I’m sorry to say, petty theft.”
Grenville’s expression went still, even blank, which I’d come to learn was his way of stemming his anger. Marianne Simmons, who had lived upstairs from me before Grenville had spirited her away to a fine house in Clarges Street, was a bit of a sore point between us.
Marianne, as poor as she was, did not like cages, no matter how luxurious, and she’d flown from Grenville’s almost at once. I knew why, and the reason was a good one, but I suspected she’d not yet told Grenville. She’d softened toward him when he’d been injured, but I hadn’t spoken to her since his recovery.
“I am afraid I’ve not seen much of Miss Simmons of late,” Grenville said in a cold voice. “But please, do ask her advice if you think it would be helpful.”
“I’ve not seen her either. I wondered if you had.”
“Not since shortly after our return from Sudbury.” His frown held frustration, anger, and concern.
“I would not worry about her. Marianne is resilient and will turn up when she feels it necessary.”
“Indeed.”
Grenville glanced out the window again, and though he’d never admit it, even under torture, I knew he was struggling to regain his composure. The closest we’d come to a permanent falling out had been over Marianne. He knew that I knew her secret, and that I had given her my word not to tell him. Grenville and I had made an agreement not to speak of the matter, but I knew it grated on him.
Grenville at last turned back to me, his lips tight but his equanimity restored. “I will obtain a map and ask Gautier about pawnbrokers,” he said. “If we divide the task between us and Matthias and Bartholomew, we can make short work of the search. And while they put lists together, you and I shall take a repast. Anton is experimenting again, and I need someone to help me eat his creations. If he continues on this bent, I shall grow too stout for my clothes, and my reputation will be at an end.”
The troubles of the very rich,I thought dryly. Not that I would refuse a lavish meal prepared by Anton, Grenville’s French chef. My pride ran only so deep.
Chapter Three
