The Daring Miss Darcy (Lost Ladies of London #4)(69)

Was she to blame for that? she wondered.

“Then we must go after him before he does something he may live to regret.” Something that might see them separated for far longer than eight years.

Wickett shook his head. “He’s calmer this last week. Happen he’ll think twice before taking any unnecessary risks.”

Estelle was about to protest when a figure appeared from the shadows. The man was tall and dark with a menacing aura which she attributed to the beaver hat concealing his eyes and the broad shoulders accentuated by the capes of his greatcoat.

Wickett straightened at her side, his hand sliding covertly into his coat.

The man approached them, pushed up the brim of his hat with a walking cane which she considered was more a weapon than an aid to help with one’s balance. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Mr Joseph?” Wickett relaxed his shoulders and sighed. “I could ask you the same.”

Mr Joseph glanced back over his shoulder before stepping closer. “I’m waiting for the constable and the chief magistrate. But there’s no time. You’d best get his lordship out of there.”

Panic flared.

“Where? The museum?” Wickett frowned. “Lord Trevane is meeting Lord Cornell.”

“God damn.” Mr Joseph hit the ground with his walking cane. “Sorry, miss, for cursing.”

“Pay it no mind.” She had heard far worse from Faucheux. “If you summoned the magistrate, then you must know Lord Trevane is in danger.” How could this man know of Cornell’s letter when they had received it less than an hour ago?

“Lord Cornell is a crook. After Lord Trevane asked me to watch him, I followed Cornell to St Leonard’s in Shoreditch. He met a man there, a jeweller named Morris, and they made an exchange. Turns out it’s one of many.”

“An exchange?” she said, wondering what on earth he was talking about and what this had to do with Ross.

“Seems Cornell is doing more in there than studying old relics,” Mr Joseph said. “He’s swapping priceless gems for paste.”

Estelle might have been shocked, but she’d heard of titled men involved in smuggling. Why not theft on a grand scale? “And you’re worried because the magistrate will want to know why Lord Trevane is in the museum meeting a jewel thief.”

“You have the right of it, miss,” Mr Joseph said. “I know his lordship well enough to know he’s not involved. What I don’t know is why the hell he’s in there.”

“He received a letter to meet Lord Cornell,” Estelle said. “I read it myself.”

Mr Joseph rubbed his bristly chin. “You’re sure it was from Lord Cornell? I’m asking because his wife entered the building five minutes before you got here. I hear she’s been hankering after Lord Trevane for some time.”

The sense of panic grew stronger now as if every new snippet of information tore another breath from Estelle’s lungs.

“How long has Lord Cornell been at the museum?” she said though was somewhat reluctant to hear the answer.

“My man followed him here at eight o’clock and kept watch until I arrived.”

Which meant that Lord Cornell could not have sent the letter. Estelle stood for a few seconds, trying to decide what to do. Was Ross oblivious to the fact Lady Cornell was inside? Had it been the lady’s motive all along to have Ross kill her husband? They were certainly ill-matched, most definitely ill-suited.

“So the magistrate knows Cornell is the one stealing the gems?” Wickett asked.

Mr Joseph explained how he caught Morris with the real gems and forced a confession. “Morris makes the imitation paste based on Cornell’s measurements and drawings. It might take three or four attempts until it’s right. Morris sells the gems to his contact abroad and they share the funds. That’s what the magistrate seems to think.”

While Wickett went on to probe Mr Joseph about how they would get his lordship out without alerting Lord Cornell, Estelle shrank back furtively. Both men were so engrossed in plotting and planning that they failed to notice her sneak behind the carriage and race across the road.

She opened the service gate and slipped inside, stole through the garden to the door leading into the museum. The one that Cornell assured them was open. As she reached the narrow flight of stairs leading down to the basement, she heard voices.

Skilled at tiptoeing lightly on her feet, Estelle plastered her back flat against the wall and crept downstairs.

Three figures stood at the end of a room crowded with display cases, tables and broken statues. The dust in the air clawed at her throat. It took every effort not to cough and sneeze.

“So that is your plan,” Lord Cornell said shaking his head at his wife.

Lady Cornell stood with her back to Estelle. She wore a long black cloak and held something in her hand.

“Trevane comes here with a story to distract me,” Lord Cornell continued, “so you can creep up behind and commit murder.”

Lady Cornell chuckled. “Vane knew nothing about my plan and merely took the bait, as I intended.”

Estelle hated it when Lady Cornell called him that. While Vane was derived from his title, it meant disloyal, fickle, and in no way conveyed the character of the man she knew.

“Trust me,” Ross said. “I am as much in the dark as you are.”