“That’s exactly what I told the others. ‘Count on it,’ I said, ‘Bancroft was forced to write those foolish letters. He would never be so devious as to trick us into thinking we were all his favorite client.’ ”

“Of course not. At least you came, sir. I am quite content with that.”

“I came with gold in my pocket, too.”

Bancroft brightened. Mr. Hurst was one of the premier buyers and sellers of antiquities in all of England. It was hard to credit that the handsome, fashionably dressed man was the son of a lowly vicar, as well as being an employee of the Home Office. It was yet another example of how times had changed in the last twenty years.

It used to be that men of fashion treated their civic obligations with disdain and one knew what to expect. Now it was almost required that every member of society have a cause, which meant that men of good breeding frequently mixed with their lessers. Certainly, twenty years ago it would have been unusual for the son of a vicar to win the label of “leader of fashion,” and yet that was a very accurate description of Mr. Robert Hurst.

Of course, it had been rumored for years that Brummell himself had been the son of a valet. Brummell’s true origins were shrouded in mystery, as he’d had the good taste not to flaunt them. Hurst and his siblings, on the other hand, seemed quite easy admitting their humble parentage. And astonishingly, despite having little to no dowries and no connections to society, Hurst’s sisters had all married into the peerage. Of course, the Hursts were blessed with good looks and a seemingly unlimited amount of good taste, qualities often lacking in those born to the velvet.

Bancroft cast a surreptitious glance at Mr. Hurst, whose air quite rivaled that of the banished Brummell. Hurst was perhaps a bit more approachable, which was a benefit to men like Bancroft, for Hurst could be a valuable acquaintance.

“Mr. Hurst, I’m glad you made the trip to see the sale. You won’t be disappointed.”

“I’m prepared to be pleased.”

“Excellent.”

“However, the sale is not the reason I’m here today. There were actually two reasons I’m standing before you. One is that I’m looking for a specific item.”

Bancroft perked up immediately. “Oh? And what might that be?”

“I’m seeking a small onyx box of some antiquity. I don’t suppose you have any in your warehouses in London?”

“Not that I am aware of, but I will check my inventory the moment I return. Do you have details on the piece?”

“I have an excellent rendering. I’ll have a copy sent to your office. Should you find the box, I assure you that I will be most generous.”

The cold, misty day was already looking brighter. “I will be vigilant in finding your object. In the meantime, I hope you’ll find some equally interesting objects at this sale. The late viscount was quite the collector.”