“I didn’t realise you took snuff,” Jeb replied conversationally.
There was something watchful and wary about him, and it made the atmosphere within the room tense. Unsure how to deal with the situation, Sophia decided to try to brazen it out. Straightening her shoulders, she threw them a dismissive glance.
“I don’t,” she replied. “I was just looking at them. They are pretty, aren’t they?”
Jeb studied his father’s trinket boxes and struggled to bite back the blistering curse that settled on his lips. He wanted to shake her. The urge to rant and rave at her about the risks she was taking was so strong that his hands curled into tight fists of fury. He contemplated whether to tell her about the dangers of prison life for someone as delicate and refined as her. He wanted to demand she tell him the truth. But of course, he could do none of those things. Not until he had taken a look at all of the items she had just returned.
Wait a minute, a small voice reasoned. She has just returned them. Not taken them. Just what was she up to?
“Well, I must be getting back,” Sophia announced, horrifyingly aware of his shimmering anger.
Before he could stop her, she hurried out of the room as though the hounds of Hell were nipping at her heels. She didn’t stop rushing until she had taken her leave of a rather startled host, and disappeared out of the end of the driveway.
Tears gathered on her lashes as she walked more slowly back to Delilah’s house. There could be little doubt now that she had just pointed the finger of suspicion over the thefts at herself. Although she hoped Jeb hadn’t seen her, she knew he was intelligent enough, and suspicious enough, to put two and two together. Thankfully, he had not followed her, but was that because he had gone to fetch the magistrate?
Whatever he was doing now, one thing was most abundantly clear, she had just lost her reputation in the eyes of the one of only two men in her life whose opinions mattered.
Jeb studied the trinket boxes and shook his head in dismay.
“I thought there was someone in here,” the Squire suddenly declared from the doorway. Jeb looked over his shoulder at him and nodded to the contents of the table. “Come and take a look at these.”
“Good Lord, those are my trinket boxes.”
“Are they all here?”
The Squire frowned at them and shook his head. “No, two of them stolen at the start of the thieving aren’t here. Where are they?”
“I don’t know,” Jeb sighed. “But I think I have an idea where to find out what happened to them.”
“Who is it? Who took the blasted things? Tell me who it is and I shall have them in front of the magistrate within the hour,” the Squire blustered.
Jeb looked at the militant look in the portly man’s eye and mentally sighed. The last thing he needed was for him to get involved. Jeb was the one who needed to find answers and uncover the truth. Although he was angry with Sophia for lying to him by declaring she knew nothing about the thefts, he just couldn’t bring himself to brandish her a liar until he had the facts. He had, after all, just witnessed her putting the items back not taking them.
Aware that the Squire was still waiting for answers, Jeb threw him a dark look.
“I don’t know. I just came in and they were sitting here on this table. These are my father’s trinket boxes,” he replied honestly. “I remember you mentioned the snuff boxes at the Harvell’s tea. I wondered if these were yours. I don’t know what the heck is going on, but I damned well intend to find out.”
“I hear you work for the War Office?” the Squire said having lost some of his bluster.
“That’s right. I work for one of their investigative branches so can, and will, get to the bottom of this little charade. I am sure you will agree that the thief needs to be caught, and quickly before they steal something that might be of considerable worth.”
“Have you heard that the Harvell’s hairbrushes have been returned as well?” the Squire asked with a frown.
“Are they missing any other items?”
The Squire thought about that for a moment. “I don't believe so. I don’t think they have all that much of value worth stealing.”
“Do you think that whoever is taking these items is aware of their monetary value, or do you think that it might be more of the thrill of taking them right under everybody’s noses that appeals to them?” Jeb asked thoughtfully.
If it was the latter, and the stolen items were going to be returned, then it was more of a game of cat and mouse than stealing to make money. However, given that some of the items were still missing, it was looking like the thief knew what they were worth and had sold them on for as much as he – or she – could make.
“I think the damned thief knows exactly what they are taking. The things that have gone missing are all pocket sized and can be hidden well. There has been enough stolen for them to make themselves a tidy sum of money they haven’t had to earn, and they aren’t averse to taking family heirlooms either. It’s a damned disgrace if you ask me.”
Before the Squire could launch into a tirade of how thieves should be treated, Jeb pushed the snuff boxes toward him.
“Well, they have been taken but now returned so are not likely to be stolen again. For now, I strongly recommend you put these somewhere out of sight. The less they are out in the open the more chance you have of keeping them.”
“It’s a damned disgrace that a man can’t keep his personal items around him in his own bloody house,” the Squire grumbled, echoing Algernon’s sentiments almost to the letter.