Page 78 of Thief of the Ton
On the contrary—Peregrine knewexactlywhere it had been.
“Why do you suppose Lady Withering placed such a-an item in her trunk?” the valet asked. “Unless it was Lord Withering’s doing. Do you suppose her ladyship knows he put it there?”
“I daresay she does,” Peregrine said, “each and every time.”
“Sir!”
“Forgive me, Lawson. I’ll say no more on the matter. Suffice it to say, I suspect Lord Withering’s a lucky man. The secret to a good marriage is…”
Filthy pictures.
“Is what, sir?”
Marble cocks.
Peregrine cleared his throat. “Compatibility.” He gestured to the decanter. “Another brandy?”
“I really shouldn’t, sir—not a cognac of that caliber.”
“I find one brandy much the same as any other.
“It’s a Martell 1802 Cordon Noir, if I’m not mistaken,” Lawson said. “Somewhat expensive. His lordship has a cellar full of the stuff.”
“So he’s not in need of cash.”
“No, sir—his valet was only too quick to regale me with a whole catalogue of Lord Hythe’s liquor collection.”
Is that what valets did: play sport with each other, comparing their masters’ attributes—the size of their estates, the value of their wine cellars, the number of mistresses they kept…
…and, perhaps, even the length of their manhoods—marble or not.
“You needn’t worry, sir—I’mnot one to indulge in petty one-upmanship.”
“Of course not.” Peregrine rose. “I suppose we must disappoint our host—the painting remains missing. Thank you, Lawson—you may go.”
The valet bowed and scuttled out of the study, and Peregrine went in search of Lord Hythe.
He found him in the morning room, with the other guests. The conversation died as soon as he entered, and several pairs of eyes focused on him. Moss fidgeted, shifting from one foot to the other. Lady Withering stared at him, a delicate bloom on her cheeks and a saucy smile in her expression—to match that of her husband’s.
Lord Withering—you lucky, lucky bastard.
Peregrine gave the man a conspiratorial wink, then cast his gaze over the remainder of the guests.
Had he been determined to identify the Phoenix based on a guilty expression, he could have accused any one of the company.
Except Miss de Grande. Clear-eyed and relaxed, she sat beside her aunt, a soft smile on her lips. Their eyes met, and she gave him a nod of encouragement.
Perhaps the hardships she’d suffered meant that she lacked the air of conceited outrage the other guests possessed. She was the only one among them who didn’t believe that she was beyond reproach by virtue of her status in Society.
And because of that, she was the brightest jewel in the room, though the rest of the world was blind to her shine.
“What did you find, Lord Marlow?” Lady Hythe asked.
“Nothing,” Peregrine said. He glanced at Lady Francis, then to Moss, and back again. “At least, nothing that merits further public discussion.”
“Of course, that means the painting is still missing,” Lord Francis said.
“We mustn’t let that ruin the rest of the party,” Lady Hythe said. “Come along,mes amis—it’s time for our excursion in the park.”
