Isabel hoped the lady would not choke on the words that must be spoken.
The drawing room doors opened and Carlson came in with the box. There was no Mr. Vance coming in, though.
Isabel leaned back to glance out the window. He was out of the house and mounting his horse again.
He had not come in. Rather, he trotted away looking very cheerful.
Isabel felt a pang that he had not come in.
“Your Grace,” Carlson said, walking in with the box as if he were delivering the Holy Grail, “Mr. Vance has just returned your tiara. He wishes me to say that the thief was caught and that he does not impose upon you personally because he is certain you have been through an upsetting ordeal and would not wish for visitors at this delicate time.”
He was so thoughtful and kind, Isabel thought.
Then, she had another idea. Mr. Vance seemed to be a very astute individual. He would have guessed that the duchess would have a terrible time thanking him for the return of her tiara and he had very kindly relieved her of the duty. At least for now. Though, really, the duchess would have to thank him sometime.
It was very generous.
“Well,” the duchess said, her tone far more sanguine than Isabel had thought it might be, “I imagine he cannot face me just now. After all, if he had not stopped us…”
Goodness. Perhaps the duchess would not bother to thank him at all.
Isabel would, though. It had been a rather heroic thing he did.
Though, it did pain her when she thought of Lord Lymington in similar circumstances. She was very afraid the duchess’ tiara would have certainly been lost forever.
*
Harry had experienceda rather fuller day than he had anticipated. He had only wished to arrange a chance encounter with Lady Isabel, but had ended up rescuing the duchess’ tiara, and the thief who took it to boot.
The boy had, by some miracle, turned up at the house as he had been told to do. Smith had not been enthused to see him, but did scrub him down as he had been directed.
Or, somebody scrubbed him down. Likely one of the junior footmen had been assigned the chore.
Clothes had been got from one of the grooms and Smith had promised the provider of said clothes that the master would buy him a new set.
By the time he had arrived home after returning the duchess’ tiara, the boy, now known as Ben, had been cleaned up from what he was. He’d also been fed, and Smith said he ate like a heathen and put away enough for two full-grown men.
Harry had conducted an interview with the little fellow, who appeared grave and silent when he was escorted into the library. He demanded to hear an accounting of how the boy ended up robbing people on the street and what on earth he thought he was going to do with a duchess’ tiara.
Ben had been living with only his father, his mother long-dead. His father had left for work one morning and never came back. After a day went by, Ben had looked in their one set of drawers and found it empty. His father had gone somewhere, leaving him behind, and it did not look as if he was ever coming back. It would only be days before the landlord would come knocking, looking to be paid, and then he’d be off to the workhouse.
Hunger driving him forward, Ben began to steal loaves of bread, apples from carts, and anything else he could get his hands on.
“I understand stealing food,” Harry said, “everybody has to eat. But what would you do with a tiara? What flash house could find the funds to pay for it, even if they had the nerve to touch such a high-profile item? How could they resell it? You stole jewelry from a duchess.”
Ben had sighed and said, “How should I know she was a duchess? Anyhow, there was a man nearby the Seven Dials what was showing me how to steal watches and whatnot and then he’d feed me, and I could sleep on the floor with the other lads.”
Harry nodded. There were places like that too many to count. Though, he could not imagine that whoever this man was, he’d sent the boy out and said, “Grab something expensive from a rich-looking lady.”
“But then I had an idea,” Ben went on. “Instead of going on like that, stealing small things day after day, I would just steal one big thing. See? I got less chance of getting caught if I do it less. Then I saw that lady struttin’ round the shop with that crown on her head and I thought, I could get two pounds for it.Twopounds, mind—I wouldn’t take less. That’d keep me for a while. Then, I’d go steal another big thing.”
“Two pounds?” Harry asked.
“Not a farthing less,” Ben said proudly. “I was prepared to haggle viciously.”
“That piece you stole likely cost seven or eighthundredpounds.”
Ben was rather staggered by that information, never having considered such a sum in his life. Finally, he said, “What ya hint at, I reckon, is that I went a littletoobig.”
