all,’
Harry had observed wearily. Now that the excitement of the night
was wearing off, she felt the need to crawl into bed and sleep. ‘He
stole things from unsuspecting women and behaved in a very
reprehensible manner. It’s little wonder he ended up dead.’
‘Well I think you were marvelous,’ the girl
had said warmly, impulsively leaning forward to hug Harry. ‘And I
am truly grateful.’
‘If you’re grateful then let me go to bed
for I am frightfully tired, all of a sudden,’ Harry had replied, a
huge yawn splitting her face. After Sarah had gone, she had changed
into a nightgown and crawled beneath the covers, asleep almost
before her head had hit the pillow.
It wasn’t until after breakfast the next
morning that she had an opportunity to examine the things that she
had removed from Lord Sutton’s strongbox. She had half expected
there to be some news of the man’s death at the breakfast table and
Sarah had too, if the speaking looks she shot Harry were anything
to go by, but the discovery was obviously yet to circulate widely.
When her aunt had told Sarah that she was to accompany her
shopping, Harry begged off, saying that she had some letters that
she wished to write. As soon as she was alone, she retreated to her
bedchamber and spread the contents of the bag across the bed. She
had sat looking at her cache of treasures ruefully for really,
there was quite a collection.
Separating the jewelry from
the papers, she began to go through the various letters and chits.
Happily, individuals’ debts had been placed together with a small
clip, along with a name, presumably of the person who owed his
lordship money. Harry grouped these together and discovered there
were nine in all. Some names she recognized, others she did not
know at all but reasoned that it would not be difficult to
discover. The letters she had to read and she discovered that women
could be very un ladylike when writing to those Harry assumed were not their
husband. Really, they were quite graphic and she found herself
blushing on more than one occasion. The things people obviously got
up to! Why, she would not have thought of half of the things that
she read in those letters. Harry recognized the scrawled signatures
of several of the authors but did not know enough about London
Society to know them all. It was a conundrum, for how could she
return these things to their owners if she did not know who they
were?
The jewelry presented a puzzle of its own.
One of the brooches… yes, she could return that to Mrs.
Butterworth. And she was almost sure that the ring belonged to
Cicely Gresham, for she seemed to recall her aunt mentioning
something about its loss. But the other items, these she could not
place and was unsure how to discover to whom they belonged. She
picked up one of the bracelets, a pair of jeweled serpents twined
together – really most distinctive – and sighed. After much
deliberation it occurred to her that Mr. Lampforth, her
co-conspirator from the evening before – might be of assistance. He
would surely recognize some of the names on the letters at the very
least and perhaps he might even be able to place the pieces for he
was obviously an habitué of town and must know a great deal more
than she did of the people there.
‘But where to find him,’ she mused. She had
seen him at several dances but there was no saying where he might
be next for he did not regularly turn up at the affairs she
attended.
Grouping her goods into two piles – those
she could do something about immediately and those that she
required assistance with – she put the unidentified items away for
the moment, while tucking the returnable ones into the larger of
her reticules. It was best that she kept them on her, just in case
the opportunity presented itself to return one of the articles to
its owner. One could not predict when that might take place but it
would be a nuisance to miss her moment. The viscount had been
correct about one
Harry had observed wearily. Now that the excitement of the night
was wearing off, she felt the need to crawl into bed and sleep. ‘He
stole things from unsuspecting women and behaved in a very
reprehensible manner. It’s little wonder he ended up dead.’
‘Well I think you were marvelous,’ the girl
had said warmly, impulsively leaning forward to hug Harry. ‘And I
am truly grateful.’
‘If you’re grateful then let me go to bed
for I am frightfully tired, all of a sudden,’ Harry had replied, a
huge yawn splitting her face. After Sarah had gone, she had changed
into a nightgown and crawled beneath the covers, asleep almost
before her head had hit the pillow.
It wasn’t until after breakfast the next
morning that she had an opportunity to examine the things that she
had removed from Lord Sutton’s strongbox. She had half expected
there to be some news of the man’s death at the breakfast table and
Sarah had too, if the speaking looks she shot Harry were anything
to go by, but the discovery was obviously yet to circulate widely.
When her aunt had told Sarah that she was to accompany her
shopping, Harry begged off, saying that she had some letters that
she wished to write. As soon as she was alone, she retreated to her
bedchamber and spread the contents of the bag across the bed. She
had sat looking at her cache of treasures ruefully for really,
there was quite a collection.
Separating the jewelry from
the papers, she began to go through the various letters and chits.
Happily, individuals’ debts had been placed together with a small
clip, along with a name, presumably of the person who owed his
lordship money. Harry grouped these together and discovered there
were nine in all. Some names she recognized, others she did not
know at all but reasoned that it would not be difficult to
discover. The letters she had to read and she discovered that women
could be very un ladylike when writing to those Harry assumed were not their
husband. Really, they were quite graphic and she found herself
blushing on more than one occasion. The things people obviously got
up to! Why, she would not have thought of half of the things that
she read in those letters. Harry recognized the scrawled signatures
of several of the authors but did not know enough about London
Society to know them all. It was a conundrum, for how could she
return these things to their owners if she did not know who they
were?
The jewelry presented a puzzle of its own.
One of the brooches… yes, she could return that to Mrs.
Butterworth. And she was almost sure that the ring belonged to
Cicely Gresham, for she seemed to recall her aunt mentioning
something about its loss. But the other items, these she could not
place and was unsure how to discover to whom they belonged. She
picked up one of the bracelets, a pair of jeweled serpents twined
together – really most distinctive – and sighed. After much
deliberation it occurred to her that Mr. Lampforth, her
co-conspirator from the evening before – might be of assistance. He
would surely recognize some of the names on the letters at the very
least and perhaps he might even be able to place the pieces for he
was obviously an habitué of town and must know a great deal more
than she did of the people there.
‘But where to find him,’ she mused. She had
seen him at several dances but there was no saying where he might
be next for he did not regularly turn up at the affairs she
attended.
Grouping her goods into two piles – those
she could do something about immediately and those that she
required assistance with – she put the unidentified items away for
the moment, while tucking the returnable ones into the larger of
her reticules. It was best that she kept them on her, just in case
the opportunity presented itself to return one of the articles to
its owner. One could not predict when that might take place but it
would be a nuisance to miss her moment. The viscount had been
correct about one
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