Page 75 of Thief of the Ton
Why, indeed?
Peregrine smiled to himself. The Phoenix had attempted to outwit him. But the quarry had underestimated the hunter.
“Lord Hythe, would you permit me to interview your guests?” he asked.
“Surely you don’t believe one of myguestsis the thief?”
“I’m afraid I do,” Peregrine replied. “He thinks he’s outwitted me, but if you grant me leave to interview the guests, I’ll root out your thief before the morning’s out.”
“Then you have leave to do whatever you wish,” Hythe said.
Smiling, Peregrine strode back toward the breakfast room, from where he could hear gay chatter and laughter.
One of those voices belonged to the Phoenix.
Laugh all you like, my friend. Soon, you’ll never laugh again.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Lord Marlow—are youout of your wits?” Moss’s voice vibrated with indignation. “How you can make such an accusation is beyond me. How much of our host’s brandy did you take last night?”
“Sit down, Moss!” Peregrine snapped. “I’m serious. The culprit is among us.”
“Do you include the ladies in your accusation, Lord Marlow?” Lady Hythe asked.
“Gertrude, my dear, of course he doesn’t includeyou.”
“I’m afraid everyone’s a suspect, Lord Hythe,” Peregrine said, “man and woman alike.”
“Awoman?” Lady Francis asked. “I cannot believe that.”
“You’d be surprised, Lady Francis,” Peregrine said. “Some women have a little intellect.”
He heard a snort, followed by a volley of coughing, and caught sight of Miss de Grande at the far end of the table, holding a napkin to her mouth, her shoulders shaking.
“B-but, we’revictims!” Lady Hythe cried. “Rather than accusing us, you should be looking for the painting.”
“I intend to do exactly that, Lady Hythe,” Peregrine said. “I wonder, would your guests object to my searching their chambers?”
“Whatever for, Marlow?” Moss asked. “Didn’t you say there’s an empty frame in the gallery? The canvas could be concealed anywhere—it’ll be impossible to find.”
“That’s what the Phoenix wants us to believe,” Peregrine said, “but the frame’s a fake. The entire piece has been stolen. I suspect it’s still in the building.”
“Don’t be a fool!” Moss scoffed. “Who’d steal a painting and keep it here?”
“Someone trying to trick us,” Peregrine replied.
“I agree.” Miss de Grande had recovered from her coughing fit. She leaned forward, eyes bright. “If the painting’s in the building and the thief is a guest, he’ll have hidden it somewhere familiar—such as his bedchamber, or even his trunk.”
“I’ll not have someone rifling through my possessions!” Moss cried.
“Have you something to hide, Mr. Moss?” Peregrine asked.
“Of course not! But I’ll not tolerate such disrespect.”
“Stealing a priceless painting is notablylessrespectful,” Peregrine said. “All I wish to do is eliminate your name from the list of suspects.”
“Well,Ihave nothing to hide,” Lady Yates declared, “and neither does my niece. You may search my chamber, but only if both I and my maid are present. You may doubt my honesty—permit me to doubt yours also.”
