Our Dear Miss H. Is on the Case by Violet Marsh

Author:Violet Marsh [MARSH, VIOLET]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2025-03-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Treasure!” Pan called out gleefully as he circled above their heads in the back room of the Black Sheep. The coffeehouse was currently closed to customers, and Alexander and Georgina had gathered there with the group who had helped bring down Viscount Hawley.

“You are certain that your brother and my father were talking about treasure?” Alexander asked, ignoring the parrot and focusing on Georgina’s recounting of the conversation that she’d overheard. Knowing that the damn betrothal caused her to be locked up made it hard for Alexander to listen. He wanted to fold her into his arms and protect her from any harm.

Yet, at the same time, he could not avoid the cruel irony inherent in his desire. His instinct to embrace Georgina perfectly suited his father’s and Craie’s schemes.

“Algernon spoke of a ‘veritable treasure,’ so there is a chance he meant metaphorically,” Georgina said. “I am more and more certain, though, that he meant an actual one.”

“You mentioned there was an upheaval during the week preceding the marriage discussion. You even spotted my father’s carriage then, too.” Alexander’s voice sounded intense, even to his own ears. “Do you think their meeting had something to do with a treasure?”

“I—I am not sure.” Georgina lowered her head and rubbed her temples. “At first, I thought it could be my helmet that they were referring to.”

“I am not precisely fond of Father, but I don’t see him kidnapping people, especially someone of noble birth,” Charlotte said. “It is not so much I believe in his goodness, but he would view such violence as vulgar.”

“Does that mean we need to discover a recent gentlemanly pilfering?” Hannah rolled her eyes. “Have the crown jewels gone missing?”

Mr. Powys leaned forward, somehow infusing the commonplace action with dramatic flourish. He regarded each of them with a pointed, pregnant look before he spoke in a hushed tone. “Actually, there is an interesting rumor that the coronation spoon has disappeared.”

“This is no time for theatrics or Banbury tales, Mr. Powys.” Calliope sent an uncharacteristic frown in the playwright’s direction. Since he was always chastising her for blitheness, she was probably only too glad to volley back the same criticism.

“I truly did hear murmurings about it.” The theater owner straightened, and his Welsh accent deepened.

“The spoon is one of the few objects that survived the Glorious Revolution. If it disappeared, it would be the juiciest news in the land—not some idle piece of gossip.” Calliope arched one golden eyebrow as if daring Mr. Powys to contradict her.

He happily accepted the challenge. “You may be from a high-ranked family with an impeccable Norman pedigree, but that doesn’t mean that you are privy to all royal secrets.”

“And you are?” Calliope retorted.

“One of the actresses at my theater has a sister who works at a certain kind of establishment that caters to royal guards, including those who protect the Tower.” Mr. Powys tipped back in his chair as if daring Calliope to gainsay him again. “Two of her clients were discussing the matter, and she overheard.

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