The inquisitive part of his character longed to examine the modiste’s logic, to pick fault, find flaws. Yet the warm hand resting on his sleeve served as a distraction. The gesture was supposed to calm him. So why did the feel of Mrs Chambers’ fingers ignite a fire in his belly that robbed him of all sense and reason?
Daniel fought the urge to stalk from the room, climb into his carriage and race through the streets at breakneck speed, to distance himself from temptation. Only when she dropped her hand and took a seat was he able to think clearly again.
“I shall stand.” He clasped his hands behind his back as men often did when they needed to think.
“Nonsense.” Mrs Chambers patted the worn green cushion next to her. “There’s plenty of room. If you start pacing, I’ll struggle to concentrate.” Her amused gaze scanned his shoulders. “Besides, you’re blocking the light and Betsy can’t afford to burn candles during the daytime.”
“These late nights spent sewing cost me a fortune,” the modiste agreed.
With a huff loud enough to raise the roof, Daniel dropped into the seat next to Mrs Chambers. The sooner he dealt with the theft, the sooner he could get to the real matter at hand. While he respected Mrs Chambers’ skill as an enquiry agent, she lacked the ability to hide her emotions. A sleepless night was not the cause of her pale complexion or the haunted look in her eyes. The woman was too proud, too stubborn to come to him and ask for his help. In that respect, he was grateful to the thief, and to the man responsible for smashing the window. They had paved the way for him to delve a little deeper into the lady’s affairs.
“Someone must have told you that beards are not considered the height of fashion.” Madame Fontaine’s voice dragged him from his reverie.
Daniel shrugged. “Fashion is for fops and dandies. Men make up their own minds.”
“When you decide to lose the beard, I have a use for the hair.” Madame Fontaine nodded at his chin. “Mr Curser on Mill Street makes accessories for men who struggle to grow thick side-whiskers.”
“I’d rather burn in hell than know some man is walking around town with my offcuts stuck to his face. And as time is precious, I suggest you stop talking nonsense and focus on our business.”
“Ooh.” The modiste grinned. “Someone woke with a sore head this morning.”
“Not at all. I take my work seriously. What a shame you lack the capacity to do the same. I suspect if you’d kept your tongue you wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
Madame Fontaine’s face flamed red. “Now you listen here—”
“Do you want my help or not?” Daniel was forced to be blunt else they’d be bandying words till nightfall.
Mrs Chambers touched his sleeve again. “Of course we want your help. Don’t we Betsy?”
The modiste and Mrs Chambers exchanged wide-eyed glances.
“There is nothing to stop the thief returning,” Daniel added. “Silk gowns fetch a pretty price if one knows where to sell them. Not all actresses and courtesans have wealthy benefactors. While I have no idea how much silk it takes to make a dress, I know you cannot afford another loss.”
The modiste exhaled deeply. “Nor can I afford for any old strumpet to be seen wearing my exclusive designs.”
“Indeed.” Daniel inclined his head. “Now perhaps we should begin the investigation with the gentleman who smashed the window.”
“As it’s the most recent event, your memory will be clearer,” Mrs Chambers said by way of clarification.
The modiste frowned and shook her head. “But there’s nothing to tell. I’d been in bed but a few hours when I woke to an almighty noise and thought the heavens were falling.”
Those disturbed from sleep often had a distorted view of the facts.
“At any time during the day did you have a disagreement with anyone?” Daniel monitored the woman’s expression with interest. “Had a client complained about your work, argued over the price?”
Madame Fontaine looked aghast. “Don’t be ridiculous. I go to great lengths to ensure all my clients’ needs are met. And no, it was a pretty uneventful day.”
“Who boarded the window?” Daniel asked.
“Mr Brown. He owns the pawnbrokers across the street. Mr Brown said that a quick reaction is the best way to deter thieves. Told me to wait for a while before displaying anything of value in the window.”
“Mr Brown appears to be a fountain of knowledge. Is he married?”
“No.”
“Do you get the impression he admires you?”
“No.”