She barely hesitated. “I agree, but I don’t want you in that mangy hotel room either, especially if it can be broken into so easily. Perhaps you would consider staying here with Miss Sylvia.”
Her words made sense. “As you have proven time and again, you are a smart woman.”
Her cheeks pinkened again, and she looked so delightful, he bent his head to kiss her once more, but she added, “I also think I should take the collar with me to Amity’s.”
The thought of her guarding the collar from robbers sent a chill down him. “I would hate to put your family in danger.”
Beatrice burst out laughing. “No one would dare breach the sanctum of the Duke of Pelham’s St. James’s house. You’ve been there. You’ve seen the number of liveried footmen, practically in every room.”
“Plus Nanny Beryl!” Greer teased. “Surely a fearsome woman with or without a cricket bat. You’re correct. Any thief would be foolish to try. Very well. You shall take the collar with you. I imagine the duke has a safe in his study.”
“That’s settled then. Kiss me again, and I will go talk to Charlotte.”
She’d said it so matter-of-factly, he almost missed her command.
“Whatever you ask, Miss Rare-Foure, I shall do.”
And he did.
***
AT ONE IN THE MORNING, Greer heard the intruder. Determined not to be caught sleeping, he had stayed downstairs in the parlor, with the door open and his ears perked like a hunting dog.
A tinkling of glass from across the foyer meant someone was breaking in through Mr. Foure’s small study. They had undoubtedly shattered the pane near the latch, reached in and raised the sash.Would the thief begin to search the entire house?It seemed a monumental task, looking for one small cat collar, but with such a fortune at stake, someone would be desperate enough to do exactly that.
In the darkness, Greer peered out into the hallway. So far, no one had exited the study. Probably, the easiest thing would be to contain the intruder inside there. Silently crossing the hall, he clasped the door handle when he heard a sound from the rear of the house.
Another robber? How many had Molino sent to search the Rare-Foure home?For there could be no doubt who was behind it. Greer had mentioned the collar on Wednesday night at The Cock Tavern and his hotel room had been vandalized on Thursday. When that had yielded nothing, the thief had gone to Rare Confectionery after he and Beatrice had visited the dealer. And now, their Baker Street townhouse.
Still, a second man didn’t change Greer’s plan. He would simply deal with one at a time. Even then, he could hear the first one crash into some piece of furniture. Then silence.
Pushing open the door, he confronted the thief. The open drapes and moonlight showed him it was same man he’d seen in his hotel passageway with his hat pulled down low. And he would guess Miss Charlotte might recognize him, too.
Upon being so quickly discovered, having undoubtedly believed everyone to be asleep upstairs, the robber’s face was the very picture of surprise.
“Who do you answer to?” Greer demanded. He wanted to hear the name for certain. But the man, apparently not wanting to give up his boss, turned and ran back toward the broken window.
Grabbing him from behind and putting an arm around his neck, Greer wrestled the thief to the floor. Although small of stature, the man was a scrapper and didn’t give up easily. They rolled around upon the rug, whacking against chair leg and table leg, but in short order, Greer put a knee in the intruder’s back and his arms drawn behind him.
Hoping this would be the outcome, Greer had a length of rope in his pocket. After he secured the man’s hands and feet, trussing him up like a prize calf, he stuffed a handkerchief in the robber’s mouth to keep him from alerting his accomplice.
Rising to his feet, Greer caught his breath. Then, stepping cautiously out of the study and closing the door behind him, he started down the hall, hoping he could still surprise the second intruder.
To his dismay, from the dark passageway came not one but two shadowy figures. At first, Greer thought he was sunk and would end up knocked out and possibly tossed in the Thames. However, as they came closer, he recognized one of the figures as the Rare-Foure’s oft-absent butler.
“Finley!” Greer exclaimed. “You’ve apprehended a burglar!”
“Have I, sir?” he asked with his usual indifference. “What shall I do with him?”
Sadly, the second thief was known to him. Jeremiah! His chophouse acquaintance.
“Them, Finley. I have another knocked out cold in the study.”
At this news, that neither of them had succeeded, Jeremiah had the sense to look sheepish, being found where he didn’t belong, detained by a butler holding the back of his collar in one hand and one of his arms behind his back.
“Look, Carson,” he began, “I lost my job. I would take any work.”
“This isn’t work. This is thievery. I guess I have to tie you up, too, though it sorely irks me to see you up to this.” He looked at the butler. “I only had one rope. Do you have something we can use?”
