A Scot to the Heart (Desperately Seeking Duke #2) - Caroline Linden Page 0,91
of the whole plot.”
“Good heavens!” Jean clapped one hand to her bosom, riveted. “Who is the mastermind?”
“Now, he hasn’t said yet,” replied the woman with a trace of disappointment. “Mr. Hay thinks he wishes to extort something else—as if a King’s Pardon isn’t enough! But he did give some clues, which have tantalized the sheriff to no end! Oh, thank you, dear.” She took a sip of tea and accepted a plate of cake.
“What are the clues, Cora?” demanded Mrs. Crawley, her weak chin quivering. Ilsa thought she was annoyed not to have been the first to hear—and share—this news.
Mrs. Arbuthnot shook her head. “He didn’t name the man, Lavinia. He said only that it’s a prominent man of the town, and that it’ll cause a great stir when he’s revealed.”
“What else?” Jean wanted to know.
Mrs. Arbuthnot knew plenty. “He—the thief who turned, that is—is a nasty bit of goods called Browne. Mr. Hay heard that he led the sheriff to a set of false keys, which so far have opened the doors of Mr. Wemyss’s shop, Mr. Johnstone’s shop, and there are several other keys they’ve not identified yet. Imagine it! The thieves had keys to the burgled shops!”
Ilsa barely heard the ensuing excited conversation. Drew had mentioned keys . . . and so had Papa.
Papa was not only a cabinet-maker; he was also a locksmith. And she thought he might have done work for one of the victims—a grocer who’d lost a great deal of tea.
No. It was madness to think Papa would be involved in the robberies. He was one of the most respected men in town, a deacon and town councilman. What’s more, he was a wealthy man, with a successful shop. Why would he risk all that for petty thieving?
There was no more prominent locksmith in Edinburgh, though. And it would cause a mighty stir if someone accused him of thieving.
She closed her eyes and bit down on her lip, furious at herself. Papa! It couldn’t be.
But he did have a weakness for gambling, and he had been tense and twitchy the other day when she mentioned the robberies. He’d told her to mind her business. He was ill, she argued to herself, even as her feet started moving toward the door. It meant nothing; there were dozens of locksmiths in Edinburgh, to say nothing of criminals skilled in picking locks. This villain, Browne, was surely casting about for someone else to throw to the wolves, to secure the pardon and save his own neck. He probably made the keys himself.
A new thought struck her even as she slipped out the door and hurried downstairs. Papa should know in case Browne did mean to accuse him. She seized her hat, flung a shawl around herself, and bolted.
She was running by the time she reached her father’s house, where he was putting on his hat to go out. “Papa, have you heard?” she demanded.
He frowned at her. “Why are you screeching at me, child? I’ve not got time to talk now.” He took up his walking stick and motioned her back out the door, held open by the servant. “If you wish to walk with me, come.”
She followed him into the street. “Mrs. Arbuthnot came to call today and what do you think she told us?”
“Some gossip of illicit love affairs?”
Ilsa shook her head. “It was about the thieves.”
He snorted. “What can she know? I’ve never met a sillier woman.”
Ilsa smiled fleetingly. “Her brother-in-law is in the sheriff-clerk’s office, and she heard from him that they have a thief in custody.”
“Oh. Aye. I knew that.”
“The man wants the pardon, of course, but he says he’ll inform on the other thieves. Papa, Mrs. Arbuthnot said he gave the sheriff a bunch of false keys, which fit the locks of shops that were robbed.”
“And?”
“Papa!” Ilsa tugged at his arm, but he only raised a brow at her, his pace unchanged. “He said he would accuse a prominent man of the town, and you’re a locksmith. You told me you refitted the lock of one of the victimized shops.” Now that she was saying it aloud, it sounded even more ridiculous.
“Half the shops in Edinburgh have had their locks refitted. Every wright and locksmith has been busy from morning till night,” he said, with a certainty that made her wilt in relief.
“Of course,” said Ilsa, calming down. “But what if one of the thieves worked in your shop—?”