Page 74 of Love and the Shameless Lady

“Gather your wares and take them away, Antoine,” the marquis said sharply. “You may conclude your business with the ladies in the morning.”

“Oui, monsieur,” he said sullenly. Most likely, he wasn’t accustomed to such a peremptory tone from his egalitarian master.

Carefully, or maybe slowly to annoy the marquis, Antoine folded the silks and laces.

“Now that I think about it, the reliquary went to a fellow called Hunt, who had come down from Northumberland,” the earl said. “It contained a bone of some saint or other.”

“I’m acquainted with Mr. Hunt,” Julian said, coming to sit next to Daisy on the sofa. “Spent a couple of days walking with him, as his property runs along Hadrian’s Wall.”

The earl turned his head to stare, as if affronted by Julian’s interruption. “And what, may I ask, is Hadrian’s Wall?”

“A wall built by the Romans,” Julian said, “about seventeen hundred years ago.”

The earl yawned. “How tedious, but unsurprising. Hunt is an insignificant fellow, the sort who would pride himself in a wall. I can’t imagine what he intended to do with a disgusting old bone, although the reliquary itself was of some value.”

“That bone was sacred to a good Catholic,” the marquis said frostily.

The earl made a rude noise. “Hunt wouldn’t care about that.”

“Perhaps the man who stole it did,” the marquis said.

All heads turned his way. Even Antoine, who was stowing his lace in a wooden chest, stopped to stare.

A painting, a figurine, and-and a bone, all stolen! Daisy tried to catch Julian’s eye, but he was frowning at Philippe. “Stolen?” she asked. “When?”

“Earlier this year, I believe.”

“That is correct,” Julian said. “Hunt mentioned it to me in passing. He was grateful that they hadn’t taken his cage cup, which is far more valuable. Where did you learn of it, marquis?”

“From my servant, Antoine, who sold lace to Mrs. Hunt.”

“I wonder,” Julian said, “if perhaps it was the work of the same thieves who stole the figurine from Lord Hythwick and the painting from Mr. Field.”

“Unlikely,” Philippe said. “The distances are too far.” He noticed his hovering servant. “What, are you still here, Antoine? Be off with you.”

Glowering, Antoine left the room.

“I agree. There are thieves everywhere,” Melinda said. “Burglars stole a pair of gem-encrusted candlesticks from the Bishop of London last winter.”

Candlesticks, too! Daisy thought. Had she unwittingly stumbled upon the plan of a gang of thieves and written it into her book? “So very many thefts,” she faltered. Julian placed a warm hand over hers.

“How horrid for the bishop,” Gloriana said. “He must be most distressed.”

“No, he brushes it off as nothing,” the earl said. “He is far too involved in ill-fated reforms to care.”

“The abolition of slavery is not ill-fated,” retorted the marquis with a challenging glance at Gloriana.

“Pshaw,” the earl said. “That, as all other reforms proposed by fools, is doomed to failure.”

Daisy bristled. She was supposed to be unobtrusive, but she couldn’t remain silent in the face of such infamy.

Julian squeezed her hand. “Nonsense! The life and liberty of every individual must and will be accorded more weight than mere profit,” he said. “I suppose you believe women are intellectually less capable than men, too.”

The earl’s eyes widened. “That is not a matter of belief, but of proven fact. Why else would they be known as the weaker sex?”

“Because the so-called stronger sex fears their power,” Julian said. “It’s a case of making the subjugated believe they are inferior.”

Daisy’s mouth dropped open. How very progressive of him.