Countess Confidential by Olivia Drake

Author:Olivia Drake [Drake, Olivia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-64197-098-3
Publisher: NYLA

Untitled

“No legacy is so rich as honesty.”

—All's Well That Ends Well, III:v

Chapter 14

The pawnshop was located on the edge of Seven Dials, a seedy district known for its trade in secondhand goods, including contraband brought in by thieves looking to gain a quick profit from their nightly work.

As Simon entered the dim cavern of the shop, a bell tinkled over the door. The place hadn’t changed from his last visit nearly a month ago. The shelves held the same clutter of miscellany: porcelain vases, a set of silver-backed brushes, an assortment of cheap jewelry.

Like a rat emerging from its hole, the proprietor scuttled out of a back room. Henry Taggert was a small, stout man dressed in a shiny brown coat and yellow breeches marred by black smudges. His sharp nose twitched as if he were sniffing the musty air for danger.

His toothy smile died when he recognized Simon. “What’re ye doin’ back ’ere? I tole ye, I don’t know nothin’.”

“I’ve come to have another look around.”

“I’ve naught t’ ’ide. Run a clean business, I do. Ye’ve no call t’ be pesterin’ me.”

“Nevertheless, you’ll answer my questions—”

The bell over the door announced the arrival of a customer. While Taggert haggled with a stooped old man wanting to purchase a chipped decanter, Simon curbed his impatience. He had a lot of ground to cover today, and he didn’t appreciate the delay.

I cannot help but wonder if the Runners have been thorough in their investigation.

Clara’s acid comment seared him. He had sat up late the previous night, and the more he’d pondered the matter, the more he’d acknowledged an uneasy feeling in his gut. He couldn’t deny the fact that other than the diamond bracelet belonging to his mother, none of the jewelry stolen by the Wraith had been recovered.

But it had not been for want of effort.

Weeks ago, Simon had scoured the well-known receivers of the city from Covent Garden to Cheapside, places where thieves sold their stolen booty. Pawnbrokers like Taggert processed the valuables under the guise of legitimate business. In under five minutes, they could break down a jeweled necklace into individual stones. The pieces would then be marketed to unscrupulous jewelers throughout the city, men who asked no questions in exchange for a bargain. Unless a gem had a particular identifying characteristic, like an unusual color, it was nearly impossible to trace.

But a nagging sense of unfinished business had caused Simon to return to this squalid pawnshop, the first of many he had decided to revisit. He would attempt again to track down the money, too, for he had been unable to discover what Hollybrooke had done with his ill-gotten gains. None of the banks had any record of a large deposit by a man of his description. Nor had there been any hiding place in his flat. Simon had spent the better part of a day searching the place himself.

His hands in the pockets of his greatcoat, he scowled at a poorly rendered landscape painting that sat on a dusty shelf.

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