Page 21 of The Regal
At that moment, the boy, who had all along seemed rather desultory in his wanderings, leapt away from the column that had propped him up. He was between the duchess and her carriage in a slice of a second, grabbed her velvet box, and made off with it.
The duchess screamed. Lady Isabel gasped.
The footmen looked terrorized, and the coachman clambered down from his box.
Blast.
He’d have to get that ridiculous tiara back.
Harry set off after the boy, his legs pumping as fast as he could make them go. The coachman had begun the chase too, but the man was portly and would not last long at it.
He must just keep the boy in sight. A lad like that might be able to run fast, but not for long. He would be too underfed for too many years to have any real stamina.
The boy made turns this way and that, down small side streets. Not once did he make the mistake of taking a dead end. It was clear he knew the layout of the town well enough. Harry had an idea of where he was headed. Regardless of the many turns, they kept going roughly in the same direction. They were going west.
The fellow was headed to the vicinity of the Seven Dials. He’d plan to go right into the Rats’ Castle and disappear into its warren of dark streets and refuse-strewn lanes. There, a gentleman had better think twice before entering if he planned on leaving again.
The boy was running out of his wind though. He was slowing and Harry was gaining.
Harry got close enough and grabbed the back of tattered his coat. They fell in a heap, rolling on the cobblestones, and were soon surrounded by curious onlookers.
*
Everything had happenedso fast that it had taken Isabel some moments to even comprehend it. One minute, they’d been in the shop, the next they’d encountered Mr. Vance and her stupid heart had leapt. Not a moment later, a street urchin was making off with the duchess’ new tiara.
Isabel watched in some admiration as Mr. Vance did not hesitate to set off after the thief. Rumson had gone too, but he’d exhausted himself very quickly. Mr. Vance had kept going until both he and the boy turned a corner and were seen no more.
The duchess had been every emotion that was not happy—frightened, angry, faint with the shock, insulted, and grief-stricken. It had taken some convincing to get her into the carriage and leave the scene.
Isabel had assured her that Mr. Vance would do everything possible to retrieve her tiara. There was nothing helpful they could do by standing about. Mr. Rundell had promised the duchess that he would remain on the scene, and he was certain the boy would be caught and hanged.
The duchess had seemed to take comfort in the idea of a hanging.
Then Rumson had further urged the lady, noting that she’d got very pale and it could not be good for her health. The duke would not like to see her in such a state.
Finally, she was resigned to the loss of her lovely emeralds, as she had no faith whatsoever in Mr. Vance, and consented to go home.
Isabel had poured her a large glass of sherry when they’d reached the safety of the duchess’ drawing room and that did seem to help the lady regain her composure.
“I am sure I do not understand what is happening to this town,” the duchess said. “To be robbed. I, a duchess, in broad daylight. Well, it would not have happened if Mr. Vance had not paused us on the street.”
“You cannot blame the gentleman, though,” Isabel said. “It might have been any acquaintance you had encountered on the street.”
The duchess did not look convinced, and Isabel had the feeling she was determined to blame somebody for this disaster.
“Just think,” Isabel said, “you know ever so many people. Everybody wishes to be acknowledged by you when you are seen out and about.”
In a mollified tone, the duchess said, “That is true, I suppose. Is there anyone of any significance who does not know me? Of course not.”
“And then, just consider,” Isabel pressed on, “of all those people who clamor for your notice, how many of them could have chased after the boy with such speed?”
“I could have done so myself, were I not in a state of shock,” the duchess said.
Isabel did not doubt that. The lady was rather athletic. Instead, she said, “There is still a chance you may get the tiara back. We must be hopeful.”
The duchess sniffed. “If I do, it will be no thanks to Mr. Vance.”
Isabel did not know what to make of that statement. If the tiara was somehow recovered, it would be entirely thanks to Mr. Vance.
