Did he mean to block the door in case she tried to escape?
Caroline harrumphed in her mind.
“Miss Harwood,” Mr. Hunt began. “Any ties to Lord John Harwood, the Baron Digby?”
“Yes,” Caroline answered without preamble. “His daughter.”
“Digby doesn’t have a daughter,” Lonsdale spoke up.
“Not a legitimate one, no.” Caroline felt no shame in her admission. She was not to blame for her birth or the inferiority that came with it.
The men exchanged contemplative looks. Caroline did not blame them. Her father had an unsavory reputation. Even she knew that.
“And he hid your existence from the world for twenty odd years?” Lonsdale asked.
Caroline scoffed. “Not hiding, my lord, but rather he couldn’t be bothered by it.”
“Then perhaps you wouldn’t mind explaining how you were invited to a ball if not a soul in polite society knows of your existence,” Lonsdale challenged.
Or, as Caroline interpreted it,explain, if you dare, why you were at a ball you weren’t supposed to be at, speaking to a lord you weren’t supposed to speak to, on the night his pocket watch was stolen.
She smiled and pulled the invitation from her reticule. “Just because I am illegitimate, does not mean I do not have any friends.” In fact, she didn’t have any friends. The mysterious gentleman had provided her with the invitation.
The card was snatched from her fingertips before she could hand it over to Mr. Hunt. Lonsdale’s scrutinizing gaze pored over the invitation. His eyes lifted to meet hers, and Caroline felt the shock of that gaze ripple to the soles of her feet.
“How much did my uncle offer you to steal the watch?”
Caroline snatched back the invitation. “I have never met your uncle.”
“The lackey he sent, then.”
“Nor did I steal your watch.”
“Everyone in town knows that your father—if you truly are who you say you are—spends his coin and his time in opium dens. Moreover, my uncle and your father are well acquainted and have been for years, which is why I find your sudden appearance tonight too much of a coincidence for comfort, Miss Harwood.”
Caroline froze.
The baron and Lonsdale’s uncle were friends?
Everything became clear. The baron should have sent Lonsdale’s uncle her way. It made sense. The dwindling family coffers. The baron’s addiction. Her desire to secure her sister’s future. A matter she had always been vocal about.
Dear Lord.
Her intuition had thoroughly failed her this time.
She could not, however, reveal any of this to the Viscount or the Runner. She’d still committed a crime, and could not afford to leave her sisters in the baron’s hands if anything were to happen to her.
Caroline lifted her chin. “As you said, my father spends his time in opium dens. If they are friends, I certainly would not know.”
Lonsdale stared at her for what seemed an eternity before turning to the Runner. “Hunt, it seems our little thief doesn’t wish to confess and hand over the watch. Perhaps it’s time we move on to more productive measures. Search her.”
“You would stoop to such tactics?” Caroline asked in mock disbelief. Well, semi-disbelief. She’d expected them to threaten her, but not with something such as this. She presumed as the daughter of a baron, even an illegitimate one, she’d be spared such methods.
“You are a talented pick pocket, Miss Harwood.” Lonsdale cast a glance her way. “Outrivaled only by your acting skills.”
“What makes you believeIam the one who snatched your beloved watch?”
“You followed me out to the balcony.”
