A Rip Through Time by Kelley Armstrong

Author:Kelley Armstrong
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

* * *

“I have never laid eyes on this girl in my life,” Dover says as we stand in his shop. “I certainly did not buy that necklace from her. It’s obvious that such a piece would have been stolen, probably from her mistress. I am an honest man who loans money to the poor for their belongings in times of need. I do not deal in stolen goods.”

“Of course you don’t,” I say. “But I misrepresented myself to you, sir.”

His eyes narrow at “misrepresent” as if he doesn’t know the word and presumes I’m casting aspersions on his character.

“I lied,” I say flatly. “I told you it was my grandmother’s locket, and I had to sell it to feed the baby. Then I said my brother gave me money to buy the necklace back. There is no baby. I have no brother. I lied, and I’m sorry that I duped you, sir. The truth is that I stole it from my mistress and then regretted it. You had no way of knowing it was stolen goods.”

He doesn’t take my excuse. Either he’d seem like a fence or a fool, and he won’t be either, especially in front of a proper lady like Isla.

When we finally leave, I say, “I warned you, ma’am. He won’t admit he bought stolen goods even accidentally, for fear of a police investigation. You could tell he was lying, couldn’t you?”

“No, Catriona. I could not, which means either he’s telling the truth or I have a poor ear for detecting falsehoods. I believe, at most, that you have sold him goods before and hoped he’d go along with your story in expectation of future business from you.”

“Then why would I have tried to dissuade you from speaking to him?”

Her brows lift. “Do you honestly think that trying to stop me from proving your claim worked in your favor? You hoped to dissuade me, and when you could not, you hoped he would lie for you.”

We keep walking. My mind whirrs, looking for solutions. No one likes being made to play the fool, and that’s what I’ve done to Isla. She thinks I had no fear of losing my position because my employer is a silly, wealthy woman who fancies herself a philanthropist. Shed a few tears and spin a few lies, and no matter what happened, I’d keep my job.

“You will pack your things,” she says. “My offer stands. I will even keep it at two pounds, despite this. Come home, pack, and leave quietly. The alternative?” She looks at me, locking gazes. “I trust you did not enjoy your night in a cell. The courts have no sympathy for servants who steal from their employers.”

“I didn’t—” I bite it off. “I know you don’t believe me, ma’am. Forget the two pounds. I’ll go quietly if I must. No bribe required. But is there some way I can make this up to you? I’ll forgo my salary. Take on extra tasks. Give up my privileges—”

“No. I am sorry, Catriona, but you are leaving today, without references.

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