To Catch an Earl - Kate Bateman Page 0,19
The quiet ones are always the ones to watch. They smile as they slip a knife between yer ribs.”
“What does he look like?” Emmy asked.
“Middling height, smaller than Luc by a few inches, I’d say. Brown hair, cut short. Bit of a doughy face—makes his eyes look piggy. And ’is mouth is girly-looking. He has a pretty cupid’s bow on top and a pouty lower lip. Looks like a spoiled child.”
“What did he say?”
“’E was sorry to have missed you.” Sally curled her lip. “He’d read about the Rundell and Bridge job and wanted to congratulate you.”
Luc snorted. “Did he ask for the diamond?”
“’E asked if I had anythin’ to give him, but I told ’im I didn’t know nothin’ about nobody. Said ’e should come back at a more reasonable hour.” Sally grinned, but then her expression sobered. “’E said he’d be back. And that he wanted to be readin’ about the British Museum as soon as could be, or people might get hurt.”
Luc’s head snapped up. “He threatened you?”
Sally rested her hand on his sleeve. “I’m a big girl, Luc Danvers. I’ve dealt with worse than ’im in Limehouse.”
Luc clenched his jaw, and an angry flush pinked his cheekbones. He touched his fingers to the back of Sally’s hand.
“I hate that he tried to scare you,” he said softly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
Sally covered his hand with her own and smiled back at him, and for a moment the two of them seemed to forget Emmy and Camille were in the room. Then Sally rose, brushing her skirts in a brisk, no-nonsense manner. “Well, I’m glad you weren’t ’ere. You’d probably ’ave skewered ’im with that sword-stick of yours and then where would we be? None of you lot know ’ow ’ard it is to get bloodstains out of a cream carpet.”
Emmy rubbed her throbbing temples. Danton’s sudden appearance, combined with her unsettling encounter with Harland, had resulted in a pounding headache. “Surely Danton knows we can’t just rob the museum without weeks of preparation? What does he think we are? Magicians?”
Camille sighed. “That, I’m afraid, is the curse of being the Nightjar—a reputation for achieving the impossible.”
Luc caught Emmy’s eye. “Even so, we’d better get planning. Emmy, you and Camille can go to the museum tomorrow. The sooner we get those last three jewels, the sooner we’ll have that bastard off our backs.”
Chapter 7.
The British Museum was housed in a sprawling French-style edifice on Great Russell Street. The building had been constructed for the first Duke of Montagu but a subsequent duke, alarmed by the decline of Bloomsbury from fashionable aristocratic enclave to distinctly middle-class district, had abandoned the house in the mid-eighteenth century and moved to Whitehall.
“The building was sold to the trustees of the British Museum and used to house the collection of the Irish Physician and scientist Sir Hans Sloane.”
Alex nodded dutifully as he followed curator Henry Franks through the museum’s echoing halls.
“The lower floor, where we are now,” Franks explained, “contains our extensive library of printed books.” He gestured vaguely toward a wing that disappeared off to the right. “The upper floor, which we shall see in a moment, Lord Melton, is home to our impressive collection of insects, worms, corals, vegetables, birds and quadrupeds—stuffed, of course, not live”—he chuckled at his own humor—“snakes, lizards, and fishes.”
Alex shuddered. He’d seen quite enough lizards and flies during his time in the Peninsular. Those damned mosquitoes had plagued the entire regiment. He made a noncommittal sound. “And where might I find a blue diamond that was loaned to the museum a few years ago?”
Franks pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Ah. You refer to the Eliason jewel. That would also be on the second floor, in our minerals, shells, and fossils room. This way.”
Alex let out a relieved exhale when he saw the jewel in question was still resting in its velvet-lined cabinet. The Nightjar had not already paid the museum a clandestine visit. “Who has the key to this cabinet, Mister Franks?”
“I do, my lord, although I don’t carry it around with me all day.” Franks held up a jangling metal ring upon which resided eight or so keys. “I keep the keys to the main doors here on my person, but all the cabinet keys are stored in my office downstairs, on hooks. Each one is labelled with a room and a cabinet number to avoid confusion.”
“I see. And what other security measures do you have in place?”
“Well, I myself live