The Gentleman and the Thief (The Dread Penny Society #2) - Sarah M. Eden Page 0,18

the sort o’ thing an up-and-upper oughtta be doing.”

“Have you heard any whispers of him hanging about with a man called Four-Finger—”

“Mike.” Parker nodded. “A shady bruiser if ever there was one.”

“Keep your ears out, man,” Hollis said. “I don’t like that Headley’s cozying up to my brother.”

“You want me to send whispers your way?”

Hollis nodded. “Get word to my man, Ambrose.” His valet was part of Hollis’s network of serving-class spies. “You still have your penny?”

Parker pulled a coin from his waistcoat pocket and gave it a toss in the air. “I know what to do with a calling card.”

As the butler, he’d likely collected thousands of actual calling cards. That the marked penny, an identifier used by nearly all the Dreadfuls’ informants, had come to be called that amongst Hollis’s servant spies delighted him to no end.

“If Headley makes any trouble for my sister-in-law or her children—”

“I ain’t gonna stand back and watch any of ’em get hurt,” Parker said.

Hollis nodded. He had every faith in the butler-turned-informant.

Outside, Randolph was walking back toward the house, alone.

“Summon your respectability, Parker. Time to play butler.”

Though Hollis would have liked to discover what he could from his brother, Randolph was particular about appearances, and that bled into class distinctions. He would have been frustrated to know Hollis had spent the past minutes amiably chatting with the butler.

So he returned to the music room. Eloise was bouncing excitedly on her stool. Ana sat on a chair beside her, grinning from ear to ear. He’d known the two would take to each other straight off.

“I’m ‘naturally inclined to music,’ Uncle Hollis,” Eloise said. “Miss Newport said so.”

“If she said so, then it is most certainly true.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Eloise’s head as he passed.

“And Miss Eloise says I am the ‘most pretty teacher in all of London,’” Ana said with a laugh.

“And that is most certainly true.” He didn’t kiss her—he hadn’t that right by anyone’s estimation—but he did wink. That was also a stretch of propriety, but switching quickly from “covert spy” to “unfailingly proper gentleman” was not always easily managed, especially when what he’d learned through his spying was worrisome.

Alistair Headley was in the stew up to his beady little eyeballs. And Randolph was spending time with the man. No good could come of that. No good whatsoever.

by Mr. King

Installment II,

in which our Hero begins an Investigation and accepts a most unusual Challenge!

Wellington had all but forgotten what a mischievous delight Tillie was. She arrived at Summerworth for their investigation with a jest-filled list of suspects, including everything from “a dog with a poor upbringing” to “a flock of magpies with remarkable coordination.”

Her laughter had ever been a source of utter delight to him—to all, in fact. Had ever the heavens blessed a soul with so happy a disposition as she?

“I believe we would do well to begin where the items have gone missing,” he said. “Most have disappeared from my sitting area.”

“Your private rooms?” She clasped a hand to her heart. “How very scandalous!” Amusement twinkled in her eyes.

“It is a fortunate thing this house is empty,” Wellington said. “You would have all the countryside whispering about me.”

“Is that why you never invite me up to the house any longer?” Though her humor remained, a touch of earnestness had entered her tone.

“I ought to have come by your cottage any number of times these past years,” he said. “The weight of grief can crush one’s judgment.”

She took his hand, as she’d so often done in their younger years. “Don’t you fret it, Welly. We’ve a mystery to solve, you and I. That’ll lift your spirits.”

Was ever a man so undeservedly blessed with so forgiving a friend? They walked hand in hand up the stairs and down the corridor. She turned toward what had been his rooms when they were children.

“No, Tillie. I am in the master’s rooms now.”

She laughed lightly. “I forget sometimes how very much has changed since we were children.”

“You haven’t changed,” he said.

She pulled away, preceding him across the threshold of the master’s chambers, but tossed back over her shoulder, “You might be surprised.”

Wellington had spent his share of time amongst the ladies of Society and their practiced primness. Tillie was a breath of utterly and joyfully fresh air.

“Now.” She stopped in the middle of the room. “What has gone missing?”

He joined her. “A painting off that wall.” He pointed. “My father’s pocket watch. Two necklaces that once belonged to my mother