Page 79 of Thief of the Ton
Lord Hythe scowled at his wife—but the perfect Society hostess never let a little thing like a stolen painting spoil her house party, lest it soil her reputation. The party rose and followed their hostess out of the morning room.
Peregrine hung back, and took Lord Hythe to one side.
“So, is that it?” Hythe asked. “You disrupted my house for nothing?”
“Of course not,” Peregrine replied. He lowered his voice. “The Phoenix is toying with us. Unless he’s spirited the painting into thin air, it’s still in the building, in which case it’s likely he’ll move it tonight.”
“Slippery bastard,” Hythe said. “A priceless family heirloom—the estate’s trustees will give me a dressing-down.”
“I doubt it’ll be missing for long,” Peregrine said. “Most experts will recognize a Lely portrait—as soon as our thief attempts to sell it, he’ll be caught. I’ll alert my contacts in London when I return. Perhaps, in stealing a painting of renown, the Phoenix has made his first mistake.”
“I’ll wring his bloody neck,” Hythe said through gritted teeth.
“Do you have anyone who would wish you harm?” Peregrine asked.
“Enemies, you mean?”
“People can bear grudges.”
“I’ve always had a wide circle of friends,” Hythe said, “many of whom I’ve known since boyhood. Your father among them. We were at Cambridge together. St John’s, you know.” He gestured ahead to the rest of the party. “As was Francis’s late father. And Caldicott’s father.”
Francis, Caldicott…
“Francis has been robbed,” Peregrine said, “and Caldicott lost a sword last month. Who else was in your set?”
Hythe frowned. “Lord Houghton. Hashehad something stolen?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Then it can’t be anything to do with us,” Hythe said. “Besides—other people have been robbed. Didn’t the regent lose a set of spoons?”
Hythe was right. The connection between the robberies still eluded Peregrine.
But it was only a matter of time until the Phoenix played one game too many.
He was all the more determined to catch the Phoenix and see the man brought to justice. Then, once he’d achieved his objective, he’d turn his attention to his other quarry.
Miss Lavinia de Grande.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lavinia glanced atthe clock on the mantelshelf. The days following the house party at Hythe Manor had been filled with dull events and inane activities. But today, she had something to look forward to. Aunt Edna was snoring in her chamber upstairs, after a heavy luncheon with the dowager Lady Thorpe, and Eleanor was due for tea any minute.
Better still, Papa—dear Papa—was due to arrive in London tomorrow morning. Lady Betty had written to say that his health had improved, and he was insisting on spending a few days in London before the summer was over. The timing could not be more perfect, for Lavinia had another gift for him.
She glanced at her needlework basket beside the sofa and smiled at the thought of what lay inside, and how she’d fooled everyone. As far as she was aware, nobody had noticed its disappearance. They were all looking for the wrong painting.
She smiled to herself, imagining Lord Marlow parading up and down the streets of London searching for a painting that he would never find.
I have bested you, my friend.
Then the image of his expression swam into her mind—eyes filled with desire, which had darkened as he caressed the skin of her breasts. A tiny pulse of longing throbbed in her center, and she shifted position, squeezing her thighs together.
Peregrine…
But he’d withdrawn from her, as if her touch burned him.
The door opened and a footman appeared.
