“Of course I am certain. I gave her the damned thing, didn’t I? My diamonds were of much finer quality and more numerous, the smaller stones surrounded by even smaller ones. I’ve never seen this necklace before.”
I dipped into my pocket and removed the strand I’d persuaded the proprietor off Hanover Square to sell me last evening. “What about this one?”
Grenville shot me a look as Lord Clifford examined the stones. “Yes, this belongs to my wife. But it is not the necklace that was stolen. She’s had this since before we married. Bit of trash.” He tossed the necklace onto a satinwood table and did not ask me where I’d obtained it. “Someone has played you for a fool, Grenville. Probably my wife. She is eaten up with jealousy. Her maid never stole the necklace, and neither did Mrs. Dale, as much as she’s putting that story about.”
“Can you be certain about Mrs. Dale?” I asked.
“Mrs. Dale was with me at the time the necklace disappeared.” Lord Clifford touched the side of his nose. “You gentlemen understand what I mean.”
Grenville looked pained. “Quite.”
“So,” I said, “not at Egyptian House, as she told the Runner.”
“Well, of course not, but she could hardly confess where she truly was, could she?” Lord Clifford jerked his thumb at the necklace in Grenville’s hand. “Enjoy the bauble, gentlemen. You bought it for nothing. Teach you to go mucking about in a man’s affairs. Should be ashamed of yourself, Grenville.”
He made no such admonishment to me—whether because he expected someone like me to not know any better or because he caught the angry look in my eye, I didn’t know. Grenville, his sangfroid in place, bade Clifford a cool good afternoon, and we took our leave.
The sangfroid slipped, however, as the carriage pulled away from Lord Clifford’s door. “Boor,” Grenville said between his teeth. “I’ve never liked him.” He transferred his annoyed stare to me. “Where did you find that other necklace? Why did you not tell me about it?”
“Because I was not certain,” I said. “It was a pure guess, and I could have been entirely off the mark.”
“Bloody hell, Lacey, you do play your cards close to your chest. What is this all about?”
“I am not sure, truth to tell. Lady Clifford sells one necklace and has the other stolen, or so she claims. Too much coincidence.”
Grenville heaved a sigh. “At least the maid has been cleared. Perhaps Lady Clifford only harangued about the necklace being stolen to push the blame onto Mrs. Dale. For vengeance. Then feels remorse when her beloved maid was accused instead and turned to you to unravel the tangle.”
“I do not think it is quite so simple.” I thought of Lord Clifford throwing aside the necklace I’d bought, proclaiming it a “bit of trash.” He’d not even asked where I’d found it or why I’d had it. “But I am happy the maid was allowed home.”
“And what has the second necklace to do with anything?”
“I am not certain. I need to think on it.”
Grenville put the pouch containing the wrong necklace we’d bought into his pocket. “I suppose I can find a use for this,” he said.
I doubted he meant to give it to Marianne. He’d buy her something new, something another woman hadn’t already worn. Marianne might not appreciate it, but Grenville treated her better than she deserved.
“Can you ask your coachman to let me out here?” I asked, glancing out the window. “Lady Breckenridge answered my request to call on her, and her house is only a few doors down.”
I knew Grenville was irritated with me, but he agreed. As I descended at Lady Breckenridge’s door, Grenville gave me a pointed look. “We will speak later.”
Which meant I would have to confess everything. I tipped my hat to him, he muttered a goodbye, and the carriage rolled away.
**
Lady Breckenridge, cool in a gray so light it was silver, her dark hair threaded with a wide bandeau, regarded me from beside the fireplace in her very modern drawing room.
I’d sat in this drawing room amongst the highest of the high a few weeks ago, when the double doors between this chamber and the next had been pulled open, the room filled with chairs and people. We’d listened to a tenor make his London debut, and while I’d not thought much of the young man as a person, his voice had filled me with joy.
The drawing room had been restored to its former arrangement of sofas and chairs, footstools and side tables, grouped together under a chandelier dripping with crystals. The chandelier was dark today, the room illuminated by sunlight streaming through the two front windows.
Lady Breckenridge did not sit down, so I remained standing.
“Business, your letter indicated,” she said.
“Indeed,” I said. “I thank you for agreeing to admit me.”
She lifted one dark brow. “Gracious, Lacey, your conversation has become as stilted as your letters. I had half a mind to ignore your request on that transgression alone.”
