“Would that not become obvious to your husband? The accounts—”
“Not stealing in the normal way. I think he has been taking the information regarding where James—my husband—buys his stock and to whom he sells it. I think he has been using my husband’s contacts to trade for himself. I suspect he sought his current position specifically to learn what he needed to know in order to do this.”
“What does your husband think?”
Mrs. Oliver lowered her gaze. “I have not mentioned it to him. It is really not my concern. It is not my company. He would not like me meddling.”
This was what was wrong with marriage, Minerva thought. One of the many things wrong with it. Here this perceptive woman had suspicions of activity that would harm her husband, but their union was such that the man would not want to hear her out.
“Tell me why you suspect this?”
“I visit my sister in Brighton frequently. I went down there two weeks ago. We visited the shops and, as I always do, I made it a point to pass by the one that buys from James. That is one of the towns that this new agent sells to, you see. I’m not checking on my husband’s trade, mind you. Just being curious.”
Keeping an eye on matters, was more like it. Mr. Oliver would do well to make his wife a partner.
“I don’t meddle,” Mrs. Oliver emphasized. “I just pay attention because if something ever happened to James, I’d have to do it all myself, wouldn’t I? There’s some money put away but not enough and I’d have to live on something.”
“You were telling me about Brighton?”
“So I was down there and passed by his patron shop and all appeared normal. I kept going, chatting with my sister, when ten doors down there was a shop that does not buy from James. In that shop there were the exact same lace collars and cuffs that he sells. Identical. Only one family in the Loire Valley makes them quite like that, and he never reveals their name. Well, in I go, pretending to want to buy some, and I learned this other shop had a price far below the one up the lane that James sells to. I knew then that something was wrong.”
“Shops can sell at any price they choose. Are you very sure that your husband did not sell this other shop the collars?”
“Asked, didn’t I? Not directly. When I returned home I mentioned how nicely the lace was shown in that shop he sells to, then asked if he has other shops down there. What a stupid question, he says. Such merchandise is cheapened if sold in too many places. That Loire lace is exclusive to one shop per town, he says, so that shop can sell at a good price and in turn pay him a good price. I knew that, but pretended I didn’t. I want you to find out if I am right about that agent. I want clear evidence if it is him. Proof that can’t be questioned. Then I will bring it to James.”
Clear evidence. Proof. She reminded Minerva of her conversation with Radnor yesterday morning. Mrs. Oliver already knew the truth, but she needed evidence before she confronted her husband.
That conversation had stayed in her mind since she all but ran from his apartment. He had wanted to talk about those kisses, and probably about the ones that never happened. What a conversation that would have been! Not that she would ever explain any of that. It would be too humiliating. What could she say? It isn’t only that I can’t trust you. As it happens, these feelings are so new to me, so unexpected, that I can’t trust myself, either.
“I don’t think this should take long,” she said, forcing her mind to Mrs. Oliver’s problem and making plans on what to do. “I will need some information from you if you can get it. I want the names of both of those Brighton shops, and I also want the name of the agent and of other shops the agent calls on.”
“I’ll write to you this evening.”
“Then we will begin in the morning. Now, I must be indelicate and explain our fees.”
Five minutes later she brought Mrs. Oliver to the door where her carriage waited. “Leave it all to us. I will give you a report in five days and let you know if we are successful or need more time.”