away down the street.
* * *
Alex sat back against the seats with a deep exhale. When he breathed back in, a waft of feminine scent, something floral and unique, teased his nostrils and his heart gave an unsteady, disbelieving jolt. In the space of a single breath, he was transported to a moonlit garden, kissing the woman of his dreams.
His mouth dropped open. That perfume. Unmistakable.
It was her!
He lurched forward and thrust his head out of the carriage window, craning his neck to identify the source of the scent.
Had he just passed her on the street? There had been a couple of women looking in Rundell & Bridge’s window, but he’d been so preoccupied with what he’d learned about the robbery that he’d barely glanced at them. The women had been on his right, in the black spot of his peripheral vision.
The carriage was pulling away from the curb. Alex cursed. Countless women thronged the street, a flurry of skirts and parasols in every pastel shade.
Which one was she?
He almost pulled the strap to stop the carriage, then imagined himself sprinting down Ludgate Hill, grasping each woman by the shoulders and spinning her around, peering into her face in some vain hope of recognition. Sniffing her wrist for evidence of that elusive, maddening perfume.
The image was sufficiently ludicrous to make him emit a laughing groan.
He was going mad. The possibility didn’t seem unlikely, considering the things he’d witnessed during the war. Sometimes madness sounded like a pleasant escape from reality.
His mind was playing tricks on him. The woman he’d dreamed of didn’t exist. Maybe she’d only ever been a figment of his imagination.
He inhaled again, but the scent was gone. All he could smell was coffee and horse sweat, tobacco and refuse. He sat back heavily against the velvet swabs and ran his hand over his face. He had work to do. A criminal to catch. A diamond to recover. He didn’t have time for other distractions.
Chapter 4.
“So, what did you learn at Rundell and Bridge?” Seb asked as Alex strode into the Tricorn’s private salon a short while later. “How did our thief get in?”
“He had himself delivered.”
Seb, seated at the dining table with a plate of ham and eggs, raised his brows in silent question.
“The Belle Sauvage,” Alex explained. “It’s the coaching inn located directly behind the jeweler. The Nightjar hid himself in an empty beer barrel and had himself delivered to the Belle Sauvage on a vintner’s wagon. According to the hostlers, the place is always teeming with people, so there’s no way of knowing exactly when that was. Either way, the barrel was taken down to the cellar, the southernmost wall of which is shared with the basement of Rundell and Bridge.”
Seb smiled, obviously impressed, and took another bite of ham. “Most enterprising.”
“Our thief climbed out of his barrel, removed the few bricks that separated the wine cellar from the jeweler to make a small opening—which he concealed with another stack of barrels—and climbed through into the shop.”
“Did you look at the barrel? A brewery name might help.”
“I thought of that. It was sent from the entirely fictitious ‘Black Feather Brewery.’ Our thief has a sense of humor.”
“Huh. How did he get into the safe?”
Alex shook his head. “Used a key, if you can believe it. When I questioned the irascible Rundell Senior and his far-more-pleasant nephew about any unusual incidents, they both recalled an elderly lady who’d fainted outside the shop the day before the robbery. The lady’s companion asked whether they could sit inside while her friend recovered from her light-headedness. Rundell Senior produced some smelling salts and summoned a doctor. Rundell Junior, it seems, was more than a little taken with the companion. He gave me an excellent description of her ample bosom and charming dimples.”
“I assume she was the distraction?” Seb chuckled.
“Indeed. It seems the Nightjar has some female accomplices. Since the key to the safe is still in Rundell’s possession, the Nightjar must have used a copy. One of the women must have managed to make an impression of it in a piece of wax or soap while the men were distracted. At any rate, the lady ‘recovered’ before the physician arrived, and they left the scene in a hired hackney.”
“So the Nightjar opened the safe, stole the diamond, and left a black feather in its place?”
“Precisely.” Alex helped himself to a plate of eggs from the covered dishes on the sideboard and sat at the dining table next to Seb.