The Vanishing Thief(71)
He continued to examine the book, ignoring my hand. “You think this book is worth fifty pounds to a collector?”
“To a collector, yes. But not to a duke who’s a sharp businessman.” When he glanced over and glared at me, I said, “Financier?”
“Investor.” He wasn’t smiling. Aristocrats were so touchy about being associated with trade.
A blur of brown fur suddenly dashed from the back of the shop, heading straight for the duke. I leaned over the counter to see Dickens with a mouse hanging from his mouth, standing next to Blackford.
“What is this?” the duke asked.
“Dickens. Paying his bill.” I took a breath to cover my annoyance. “Your Grace. I know my business and the value of my stock. Please don’t make the mistake of thinking I don’t know my job, whether it’s here in the bookshop or with the Archivist Society.”
He gave me a smile and reached into his waistcoat pocket. “You’re very sure of yourself.”
“I have to be. I have only myself to rely on.”
“Will you take forty-five?”
I stared at the Bank of England notes he held out and then smiled at him. I’d have taken forty. “Let me wrap that for you.”
He changed back into his leather gloves and bent down to pet Dickens. “Is he yours?”
“He just showed up one day, and comes and goes as he pleases. Emma feeds him, so I’m sure he’ll never abandon us.” I watched Dickens’s eyes shut as the duke scratched him behind the ears. “I suspect he thinks we belong to him.”
Blackford straightened, still watching the cat. “You impressed me just then. You’ve done so well in your role with the Archivist Society, I expected your business would suffer. I was wrong to doubt the abilities of the Archivist Society. I want your help in contacting Drake.”
Trying not to show the ridiculous amount of pride I felt at his words, I tied a bow in the string around the paper wrapping. “I’m glad to know I can surprise you.”
“Is the mouse a bonus?”
“What?” I leaned over the counter again. Dickens had disappeared, leaving the mouse behind at the duke’s feet. “Dickens!” I ran to the back, grabbed the broom and dustpan, and removed the body.
“I apologize about the cat, Your Grace.”
The corners of Blackford’s mouth edged up and his eyes gleamed with mirth. “I was honored. It’s a tribute from one hunter to another. But please don’t have too many more surprises for me. I’m hoping to count on you at the Arlingtons’ ball.”
Finally, we appeared to be getting to the point of his visit. “In what way, Your Grace?”
“I won’t be able to tell you until that night. You’ll have to trust me.”
I’d rather trust Jack the Ripper. “Was there anything else you wanted?”
“You can tell me how the case progresses.”
I didn’t bother to pretend not to know which case. “It moves forward. Slowly. We keep eliminating suspects.”
“And your costumes for the Arlingtons’ masked ball?”
“I am to be the Fire Queen and Emma the Ice Queen.”
“I know. I wondered how they’re coming along.”
“You’d have to ask Madame Leclerc that.” Curiosity made me add, “The crowns. They will be paste, right?”
“No.”
“Your Grace. We’ll be weaponless, in evening clothes, surrounded and hemmed in by innocent revelers. We can’t protect your jewels adequately and catch the person threatening Drake.” The very idea scared me and left my stomach aching.
“I don’t expect you to guard the jewels. I expect you to wear them.”
I came out from behind the counter in a rush and marched up to him. A couple of locks of his rigidly straight hair brushing his high collar had curled up since he’d come into my shop, giving him a slightly rakish appearance. Looking up into that craggy, self-assured face, I said, “Then get an aristocrat to do it. They know about wearing jewels.”
He stared into my eyes as he snapped, “I’m hiring you for your brains, not your bloodline.”
“Technically, you’ve not hired me for anything.”
He pulled a sixpence out of his pocket, tossed it in the air, caught it, and handed it to me with a bow.
I held his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. “If you’re hiring me for my brains, then take my advice. Don’t put your jewels at risk.”
“A thief will recognize paste immediately.”
“Not until he examines them, and we won’t allow that close a perusal.” Which was nothing compared to the scrutiny the duke was giving me. Our faces were mere inches apart, and I was growing nervous. He was the most magnificent man I’d ever met, stoic and fiery in one brilliant package, and he was out-of-bounds for a nonaristocrat.