Page 135 of Thief of the Ton
“It seems I’ve been speaking to the wrong people,” Peregrine said. “To further my investigations, I should have spoken to the servants, rather than the lords.”
The footman let out a hollow laugh. “Who listens to the word of a servant?”
“I’mlistening,” Peregrine said. “What do you know?”
“You may not like what you hear.”
“Why? Because it paints my father in an unflattering light?”
The footman colored and looked away.
“Trust me, John, I’d rather cast light on the truth,” Peregrine said, “no matter how unflattering that may be.”
The footman nodded. “Very well. Your father traveled to London for the auction. Lord Caldicott was in the carriage with him, as were Lords Francis and Houghton.”
“But not Lord Hythe?”
“From what I overheard, there was some doubt over whether Lord Hythe would be joining them.”
“What did they talk about?” Peregrine asked.
“The earl was boasting about his accomplishments in bringing about de Grande’s ruination. And…” He hesitated. “You’ll not like it, sir.”
“Let me hazard a guess,” Peregrine said. “They were plotting to fix the auction so they could procure de Grande’s favored items for two shillings apiece.”
“I don’t know nothing about two shillings, but they had made an arrangement with someone at the auction house to ensure the bids remained low.”
“How the devil do you know all this?”
The footman smiled. “Folks’ tongues will loosen in front of a servant. To them, we’re invisible. When we stopped to give the horses water, I overheard some of their conversation.”
“And you didn’t think to say anything?”
“And lose my position?” The footman blushed. “Daisy and I had a little’un on the way at the time. We’d have been tossed out on the street if I said anything. And what’s to have stopped your father insisting Lord Hythe toss my brother out, also? To folk like you, we’re disposable commodities, to be discarded when we give offense.”
Guilt needled at Peregrine at the footman’s words. The man was right—the wealthy and titled treated the less fortunate with contempt.
How many souls depended on the Marlow estate? Servants—tenants…
Yet Peregrine knew very few of them. As if they didn’t matter.
“Begging yer pardon, sir, but that clock belongs in Lord de Grande’s hands,” the footman said. “The lass was merely trying to restore it to its rightful owner.”
“You seem convinced of the rider’s identity,” Peregrine said.
A smile curved the man’s lips, and he placed a hand on Peregrine’s arm in the manner of a loving father—the loving father he’d never had.
“Aye, I do,” he said. “And do you know what secured it in my mind as a certainty?”
“What?”
“It was the way you looked at her, sir. You recognized her right away. And when that fool Houseman shot her…” He shook his head. “I’ve never seen anyone so terrified.”
“Anyone would be afraid after being shot.”
“No, sir. I meantyou. A man—or woman—may fear for their own life, but there’s nothing so raw as the fear for the life of a loved one.”
Peregrine caught his breath, and the footman nodded.
