For some odd reason, Daphne’s throat grew tight when Mr Thorpe stepped forward, took Miss Cartwright’s hand and assisted her into a sitting position.
“What large hands you have, sir.” Miss Cartwright looked upon Thorpe as one would a juicy piece of plum pie. “I’m sure your sister is grateful to have someone so strong to offer his protection.”
Sister? The veiled insult did not slip past Daphne. What the woman meant to say was spinster. “That is why introductions are made before conversation commences,” Daphne snapped. “It prevents either party from making foolish assumptions.”
Miss Cartwright scanned the muddy hem of Daphne’s plain dress with some amusement. “It could have been worse. With your inappropriate attire, I might have mistaken you for a maid.”
Her inappropriate attire? This woman had gall. Forgoing a coat was not nearly as vulgar as greeting guests in a robe.
“I heard you find excessive clothes an encumbrance.” Daphne could feel Mr Thorpe’s gaze searching her face but ignored it. “For once it appears the gossips were right.”
Miss Cartwright gave a light, airy chuckle as she trailed her fingers across the exposed skin at her collarbone. “From her stuffy manner, am I to assume she’s your wife?”
“Mrs Chambers is my business partner,” Thorpe informed in the tone of a schoolmaster quick to put an end to his pupils’ childish banter.
“How quaint. I would ask you more about your business, sir, but I’m more interested in what you do when at your leisure.”
Lord above. Surely Thorpe wasn't duped by her insincere flattery.
“Your interest must be great indeed,” Daphne interjected, “since you appear to have forgotten all about your ailment of the heart.”
Miss Cartwright moistened her lips as she studied Thorpe’s impressive form. “If presented with a muscular stallion would one mourn the loss of a shabby pony?”
Thorpe cleared his throat. “As you currently have no claims on either, Miss Cartwright, I suggest we get to the matter at hand.”
A smile formed on Daphne’s lips and she squared her shoulders. A warm feeling filled her chest at Thorpe’s complete lack of interest in the brazen beauty before them.
“If Tranmere wants me to take him back, he will have to make it worth my while. The humiliation alone is worth a substantial increase in allowance.”
“Are you speaking of your humiliation or that of his wife?” Daphne said.
Miss Cartwright ignored the comment. “Well, how much is he offering?”
“The offer is not from Tranmere,” Thorpe said. “It is I who wish to strike a bargain.”
Like water breaching a dam, the blood rushed to Daphne’s face. What in heaven’s name was Thorpe going to offer?
“Oh, I am all ears, sir.” The hussy moistened her lips. “A lady rarely gets such a welcome proposition. I am inclined to say yes before hearing your terms.”
“Then I shall not keep you in suspense any longer. You will explain why you saw fit to enter Madame Fontaine’s shop and steal two gowns. Else I shall hand over the evidence to the constable.”
Miss Cartwright blinked. Her hand flew up to her throat as her complexion turned a deathly shade of grey.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, her voice a strangled whisper.
“Don’t you? You more than anyone should know that gentlemen like to boast of their conquests,” Thorpe replied. “The poor blighter you persuaded to pick the lock has told everyone you’re lovers. It seems true love makes a man do wild and reckless things, Miss Cartwright.”
Daphne watched Daniel Thorpe intently. He had based his comments on nothing more than speculation, yet he had such an inherent confidence about his tone and manner he could persuade the Devil he was misguided.
Pride blossomed in her chest. Mr Thorpe was an expert investigator, and intelligence was a quality Daphne found highly attractive.
“Must I reveal your counterpart’s name to hear your confession?” Thorpe continued. “Once his name leaves my lips, I fear my business partner may alert Lord Tranmere of your infidelity. Indeed, the magistrate will be interested to hear how you tricked a man into committing a crime.”
Miss Cartwright jumped to her feet. “I did not trick Mr Reynolds. For heaven’s sake, it was Tranmere’s money that kept him out of debtors’ prison. He had no choice but to help me. I should have known the fool had a loose tongue. One sip of brandy and he’s staggering about the place like a drunken buffoon.”
“In taking the dresses I assume your intention was to punish Lord Tranmere,” Thorpe said. “Stealing the mourning gown was simply a means to avert suspicion.”
“I believe Miss Cartwright’s intention was to punish both Lady Tranmere and her husband,” Daphne added. Having spent five minutes with the woman it was obvious manipulation was her game.