Page 19 of Cousin Conundrum

Fletcher’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He nodded.

“It is our belief that a lack of obvious vigorous pursuit will draw Madame Dentelle and her daughters back out more quickly,” Padgett said, surprising Steven by giving any explanation at all. “We do not wish for them to suspect that we know who the Peacock is. She and her daughters are obviously skilled. The more they fear capture, the more difficult they will be to find.”

“Then you believe they know who the Peacock is, sir?” Steven would do whatever Padgett required to apprehend the man, be that everything or nothing. Anything to win free of the obligation placed on him by his relations’ treason.

“I believe they do, yes.” Padgett studied them for a long moment. “I believe the Peacock is one of them.”

“Madame Dentelle has a son?”

“Madame Dentelle has, by our best ability to tell, between two and four daughters.” Padgett placed a palm on his desk, a finger twitching ever so slightly, as if he would drum his digits in aggravation had he any less control. “No one, not even those in the shops to either side or her most loyal patronesses, seems certain how many of them lived and worked in the shop. It is the extreme lack of information about them that raises my suspicions.”

Steven thought back to the two women with their paint and their lumps and their lank black hair. He winced. Changing out of a gown indeed. They had obviously been donning disguises. Effective ones, too. He might recognize their voices, but he doubted he would know either woman should she pass him on the street.

And that business about the glazier’s tools belonging to a beau. No wonder Padgett was angry with him. Steven should know better. A sobbing woman had that effect on him, though. Turned off his brain. He simply couldn’t think with a woman crying.

How neatly they’d directed him and Fletcher to the Hind and Hound, to watch for a Welshman who would never appear. He cleared his throat and offered, “We only saw two, sir, and neither was Madame Dentelle.” Of that, at least, he was certain. They’d both been too young to be the modiste.

Padgett waved that away. “Two. Four. It hardly signifies. They are likely well-funded and well hidden, but now they must choose. Attempt another such scheme, perhaps another shop where women set appointments, so the miscreants know when they will not be at home, or remain hidden forever.”

“So the Peacock is foiled,” Steven said in sudden hope.

“Foiled, but not apprehended. I doubt certain members of the peerage will accept ‘foiled.’ Moreover, without a Peacock to hang, there is simply our word and the hope that the villain never strikes again to mollify those who have been robbed.”

Steven dropped his gaze. So close. They’d been so close. He and Fletcher might very well have stood in the same room with the Peacock. “You are certain Madame Dentelle or one of her daughters is the Peacock?”

“No. How can I be?” Padgett jabbed a finger at Steven. “But you should have been certain before you departed their shop that day.”

“But they may not be,” Fletcher protested. “And how could we have been? They would hardly have admitted as much and we were not going to press them into a confession. They are ladies.”

What Fletcher had revealed about the glaziers right before Padgett summoned them in would tip the scales further in favor of Madame Dentelle and her daughters being behind the Peacock’s robberies, but Steven pressed his mouth closed over the information. Padgett already seemed convinced. Telling him about the broken windows would only fuel his ire.

“Your reluctance to rigorously question females is noted, Sergeant Fletcher, and is not relevant. As stated, your only task now is to fail to turn over any information you have gathered to your colleagues.”

Fletcher grimaced, but nodded.

Padgett turned to Steven. “As for you, Hurst, I am disappointed by your lack of success, both on behalf of the Crown and you. You will remain at my disposal.”

Padgett’s way of saying that Steven’s debt was not yet paid. “Yes, sir, but, sir, if I may, I can continue to assist in seeking the Peacock. I did meet two of the ladies in question.” Not that he had much hope of recognizing them, but more than most. If he could simply locate Madame Dentelle and her daughters, perhaps then—

“No.”

That single, barked syllable cut into Steven’s hopes. “But, sir—”

“They may have been in disguise, but you were not. Neither you, nor you, Sergeant Fletcher, are to make any effort to locate Madame Dentelle or her daughters. Nor will any of the men stationed outside their shop or, for good measure, those at the Hind and Hound.”

“There must be some way in which I can continue to assist, sir.” Some way for Steven to work for his freedom.

The hard edges of Padgett’s face softened ever so slightly. “Leave London for a time, Hurst. Visit your estate. Take a cottage in Brighton. I care not. Spend time with your wife while I clean up this mess. You can return refreshed and ready for your next assignment.”

I do not want another assignment. The words rang in Steven’s mind. He wanted to finish this assignment and be free. “Yes, sir.”

Padgett pressed his palms to the top of his desk, standing. “You are both dismissed. Fletcher, I hope there is no need to see you again.”

“Ah, thank you, sir,” Fletcher said.

Padgett reached for a bell pull. “Smith will escort you out.”

Apparently, Fletcher would not be permitted to travel Padgett’s halls unescorted, and Steven didn’t qualify as a competent enough escort. He tried not to take offense at that as ‘Smith’ reappeared to escort them away.