Page 51 of Becoming Lady Dalton
Piers’ jaw tightened. He tasted iron and dust. With a tongue too dry to form proper words, he rasped, “Agreed.”
Thomas propped his knuckles on the surface of his desk and dropped his head. “I suppose that will have to be good enough. I hope, friend, that Mrs. Cartwright is as innocent as you say.”
“If she isn’t, I promise I’ll stand back,” Piers offered grudgingly.
“The evidence against her, in this charge, is damning indeed. The magistrate will attempt to paint her as a woman callous enough to steal from her own sister. What is their relationship like?”
“Warm. Close. Lady Briarcliff deputized her sister to oversee the townhouse renovations. The original Briarcliff townhome burned to the ground in the fall.”
A frantic flutter of hope came to life in his chest. The corset of anxiety that had tightened around his ribcage eased fractionally.
“I recall.” Thomas examined the summary of the charges again. “If we can prove the sister authorized the money Mrs. Cartwright took without her sister’s knowledge, we can undercut the argument that she is so callous as to rob her own family. What about the grandmother?”
“The baroness didn’t know Vio- … Mrs. Cartwright’s husband was still alive until this week. No one did. I venture she didn’t even confide to her sister that there was a possibility that she wasn’t a widow.”
She hadn’t confided in him either.
Whether Viola’s deception had been born of hope or necessity didn’t matter now. Piers didn’t care why she’d lied. He’d never detected a hint of happiness on the topic of Viola’s marriage. It hadn’t impacted her joy at seeing Harper and Edward united. In fact, she’d poured her entire heart into helping them. Shecouldn’thave done it for mercenary purposes.
Could she?
The notion that he may have fallen in love with a charlatan shook Piers to his core. Damn Thomas Belden for planting a seed of doubt in his garden of certainty.
“If true, that fact does not aid our argument. We need to find a pattern. Better yet, the actual culprit. We must scour every report of jewel theft since before Mrs. Cartwright’s return to London. You said that was just two weeks ago?” Thomas was scribbling notes now, his pen scratching over parchment.
“About that, yes. Where do we look?”
“Broadsides, newspapers. I’ll cover court complaints. Bow Street would be helpful, if we weren’t working against them.”
“Funny you should mention the Runners,” Piers coughed. Thomas glanced up at him with a penetrating stare.
“Oh?”
“Yes, well, I have hired one. Bribed, I believe is the proper term. I confess I am unpracticed with these things. I asked him to look out for Mrs. Cartwright and to continue the investigation. Reed is his name. He will supply us with information as we request. I made sure of it.”
Belden bobbed his square chin once. “Nicely done. Reed has a good reputation amongst the Runners. Not all of them are so well regarded.”
Relief flooded through Piers. He would save Viola. This gambit was going to work. He’d never admit it to Thomas, but there was no way he would ever believe she was a thief. Despite her half-truths, Viola was the most wholeheartedly honest person he’d ever met.
“Thank you, Thomas.” Humbled, Piers held out his hand. Thomas clasped it with a half grin.
“Thank me when I’ve exonerated your lady, if I can. Now. Get to work. If we can, we need to connect this clever pickpocket to a crime committed before Mrs. Cartwright’s arrival in London to cast doubt on Bow Street’s story. With the holiday looming and the Woolrytes pressing for a decision, the magistrate will be keen to convict. Can you convince Baroness Landor to lend support? The more voices we have speaking in favor of Mrs. Cartwright’s innocence, the better chance we have of slowing the process.”
Thomas’ warning shot dread through Piers’ nerves like mercury poisoning his blood.
26
The clockon the mantel chimed one by the time Piers arrived at the Landor townhouse. He waited in the parlor where the shades were drawn. Though the black wreath had been removed from the front door, there was a funeral air in the house.
“Dame Landor,” the footman announced. The heavy carved door swung open. Tap, thump. Tap, thump. Dame Landor entered, leaning heavily on a black lacquered cane.
“Lord Dalton, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this afternoon?” she demanded.
“Madam. You look well,” he lied. The gloom couldn’t hide her red-rimmed eyes, nor the lines that appeared to have been etched in her face overnight. The baroness hadaged,her vitality sapped.
“Thank you,” she responded with the repressive air of one who knew she was being lied to.
“I am here about your granddaughter, Mrs. Cartwright,” Piers began. He’d prepared a speech. It was very pretty, along the lines ofwe both care about Viola, so let’s cooperate to free her.
