Page 10 of The Hood and his Thief

“How long have you had it?” Rhosyn ignored his comments. She did enjoy wearing green, but no matter how much she pinned it, a hat never sat nicely on her unruly hair.

Mr. Barrett shrugged. “Quite a while. It’s hard to sell such a pricey piece.”

Rhosyn nodded; it would be expensive. Likely stolen by one of his suppliers from a wealthy family.

She grinned in triumph as it hit her. The stolen jewels.

When helping Officers Fletcher and Davies fill out their report on the hooded man, she had flipped through the description of the stolen jewels, including one jeweled hat pin. She might not be making progress on her own investigation, but she had made a discovery on another by happy accident.

“That’s interesting,” Rhosyn said with feigned casualness. “You can’t have had it that long, because it was just stolen a few weeks ago.”

Mr. Barrett looked at her with tired eyes, but Rhosyn couldn’t help the wolfish grin that crossed her face.

Chapter four

“Your second high society event in a week. Contessa might turn you into a proper lady yet,” Joseph mused as their carriage trundled up the hill to the wide streets where the wealthiest residents of London lived.

“If I’m proper, then Contessa is meek and demure,” Rhosyn scoffed.

Joseph laughed and the smile made him look younger, softening the constant creases of consternation he wore from frowning at paperwork so often.

“I hope you can at least put on the act for another night,” Joseph commented. “Mr. Gower specifically requested that I bring the officer responsible for the return of his jewels, so he could thank them personally.”

At this, Rhosyn frowned. “We still haven’t caught the Hood yet though.”

Indeed, when Fletcher and Davies showed up to retrieve the stolen jewels and question Mr. Barrett on who sold them to him, he had described the same man Rhosyn had chased across the rooftops earlier: a piece of fabric hiding his lower face with a hood pulled low over his eyes. They had gained no further hints to his identity, and so could still only refer to him as the Hood.

“That might be true,” Joseph admitted, “but hopefully he won’t try to steal the same jewels twice. As long as Mr. Gower is happy and will keep sponsoring Talented, then it will at least take that worry off my plate.”

Rhosyn didn’t respond, playing through her chase with the Hood in her mind again. She told herself she was searching for some hidden clue in her memories she had overlooked earlier. In reality, the picture of him performing a perfect flip in the air, quads flexing as he landed and threatening to split the seams of his pants, came to her mind at all sorts of odd times. When she was taking a pause to eat lunch. When she was lying in her bed at night waiting for sleep to come.

Rhosyn was infuriated that he had gotten away.

She was also curious.

The cease of rumbling around her drew her from her musings, and she realized the carriage had come to a halt. They had arrived at the Gowers’.

Joseph helped her down from the carriage as Rhosyn suppressed the odd urge to giggle as she lifted her canary-yellow skirts out of the way of her satin slippers. The whole production felt similar to the first time she played dress up with Contessa’s gowns years ago.

Still, she did her best to seem like she belonged there as she took Joseph’s elbow and let him lead her into the grand house. The crystal chandelier and ornate wood railings on the sweeping staircase did nothing to make her feel more at ease.

However, the sight that greeted her just inside the parlor lifted her heart. A familiar young man hovered in the corner, a tray of crudites balanced in his white-gloved hands.

“Paul.” Rhosyn made a beeline across the room to her former charge, although she knew she should probably greet the more distinguished guests first. He must not have heard her the first time, not reacting at all. “Paul!”

When Rhosyn stepped in front of him, he blinked several times as if not processing what he was seeing. It was probably since Rhosyn was dressed far more formally than she ever had been while minding the young Lions in the den. She took his moment of recognition to look him over.

It struck her immediately that he was still so young, barely more than just a boy. It seemed impossible that he could already have a job in a fine house. Then again, Rhosyn had been the same age when she put herself in charge of all the Lion’s rescued children.

“Rhosyn?” Paul said slowly.

“I’m so glad to see you here,” Rhosyn gushed. “I was so happy to hear that Mr. Gower sponsored you, but I wanted to check on you.”

Paul’s lips turned up in a smile, but something in his eyes seemed vacant, a strange flatness Rhosyn hadn’t remembered in his expression. “I was glad to be sponsored, too.”

“Are you feeling alright?” Rhosyn resisted the urge to press the back of her hand to his forehead and check for a fever. He seemed glassy-eyed, and taking care of him was a habit that died hard.

“Yes,” Paul assured. “Just tired from learning how to be a proper footman.”