Page 50 of Becoming Lady Dalton
“Ah. Too bad. Then why are you so determined to clear her name?”
Was that a smirk playing across Belden’s face? Thomas had tented his fingers again. Piers decided the habit was designed to appear thoughtful while laughing at his clients behind his hands.
Piers arched one brow menacingly. Ordinarily, the simple gesture bent people to his will. Thomas, however, leaned back in his hair with a faint, mocking smile.
“Your determination to have Mrs. Cartwright for your paramour is clouding your judgment, Piers,” Belden said gently.
Piers curled his fists around the ends of the chair arms. His body was as stiff and wooden as the furniture. No one believed him—and no one would believe Viola either.
At best, she’d be transported. At worst, she would hang.
Once again, he was helpless to save the ones he loved best from calamity. He shoved up from the chair with both hands curving around the arms.
“Where are you going?” Thomas asked.
“To find a barrister who can actually help me.”
“Sit down, my friend. There is one aspect to this case that intrigues me. The missing jewels included paste gems, did they not?”
“Yes, what of it?”
“An experienced jewel thief would know the difference between strass stones and true gems even at a glance. I could understand a mistake or two, but nearly half the stolen objects were imitation. Why?”
Thomas Belden scanned the handwritten report Piers had requested from the magistrate. He traced a line with one blunt-tipped finger smudged with ink.
“Here. Look at the description of the first significant theft. ‘Lady Graham noticed a ruby pendant and matching bracelet missing from her person after having danced with her husband. The objects are part of aparurepassed down from her great-grandmother.’ Also stolen was a diamond and sapphire gold bracelet belonging to Lady Margaret and a pair of paste earbobs described as having little value. There was also a cuff of enamel and strass stones, costlier than the earbobs, but still nothing to compare with the ultimate prize of the evening—a pearl and diamond collar. Why would a determined thief go to the trouble of taking a pair of earrings off an unsuspecting victim when fencing the jewelry would keep a thief comfortable for a year, easily?”
Belden’s forehead furrowed beneath his close-cropped black hair, the better to wear a wig when pleading arguments in chambers, Piers decided. It suited Belden’s hawkish features well.
“I don’t know,” Piers shot back caustically. “As I am not, myself, a thief.”
“Neither am I, Dalton, yet a cursory glance at the pattern makes me think there is more to this than a simple filching and pawning of jewels. It’s as if someone is trying to simultaneously amass a great pile of money and throw off the scent.”
“How does this help Viola?” Piers demanded.
“It may not. If she’s truly innocent; however, the thief will be glad of her arrest and perhaps use the distraction to strike again, soon. Before the holidays, is my guess. There is perhaps another week of festivities before the city empties out for Christmas in the countryside—for those who can afford such leisure, of course.”
“Is a barrister’s wage not to your liking, Belden?” Piers taunted. He raked a hand through his hair, considerably longer than his friend’s. He had the luxury of maintaining his mane however he chose. As the fourth son of a baronet, Thomas had never had much hope of an inheritance, and while his sister had married a knight, no one else in the family was likely to do as well.
“I’m satisfied with my lot. I too shall join my sister in Hampshire for the holiday,” Thomas responded mildly, in that laconic manner he’d possessed long before he studied law.
It was Piers’ turn to scoff. “No man with political ambitions such as yours ought to describe himself as ‘satisfied.’”
“This is true,” Thomas Belden replied mildly, still skimming the handwritten reports from the magistrate’s clerk.
“I’ll pay anything.” Piers hated begging. He would rather crawl naked through a freshly scythed wheat field and cut his skin to ribbons on ragged stalks. “Whatever you want. Find a way to save Mrs. Cartwright from imprisonment, or worse.”
“I’d do it for free.”
Piers stiffened. Crass discussions of money left a taste in his mouth like sour wine. “That’s isn’t necessary, Belden. I am hardly impoverished.”
“Nor am I. I shall take the case on one condition, Piers. If your lover is proved to be a thief, you let her take the punishment.”
Thomas Belden speared him with a look. Piers was the one to glance away.
“That won’t happen.”
Thomas threw up his hands in exasperation. “You cannot approach this with certainty as to the outcome. In the eight years I have done this work, I have had clients I believed were guilty proven innocent, and the most innocent-seeming demonstrated to be capable of the vilest crimes imaginable. I will undertake this journey with you on the one condition that you keep an open mind.”
