Текст книги "The Vanishing Thief"

Автор книги: Kate Parker

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She went from pleading to angry in an instant. “There was nothing between them. You shouldn’t listen to malicious gossip.”

“I don’t. I have questions about both of them, but it was you he was blackmailing, wasn’t it?”

She looked around the shop in panic. Fortunately from her point of view, it was empty. “No.”

I’d rather be making a sale in my bookshop than listening to a silly young lady lie. “I know Drake was blackmailing you. I’ve had it confirmed.” I wasn’t about to tell her by her mother.

“You’ve found Drake?”

I suspected the key to keeping Drake safe was in not answering that question. “Drake isn’t the only one who knows about his blackmailing you.”

She pouted. Really? She was much too old for that sort of behavior. “Why should I tell you anything? I neither like you nor trust you.”

“You may not like me or trust me, but believe me, I will find out all the details. It will make life for you and your parents much easier if you tell me.” We were glaring at each other as we leaned over the counter, our noses nearly touching.

I took a deep breath and stepped back before I continued. “I have no desire to tell your husband anything or to blackmail you. I have other issues to investigate, but until I get this out of the way, I will haunt you.”

“You’re right. Drake was blackmailing me.” The viscountess sounded so miserable I was certain I’d hear the truth. The electric lights overhead showed her frown lines and bitten lower lip in stark relief.

“Why?”

Elizabeth Dalrymple walked in a small circle, waving her hands. “I wrote Drake stupid, childish, idiotic letters. It was silly, impulsive, but he held them over my head. If the viscount had known, he would never have married me. As it is, if he knew, he’d never trust me again.”

“Your father met Drake’s blackmail demands until after you were married?”

“Yes. We went to the continent for our honeymoon and no one heard from Drake until after we returned. Then Drake approached my father, who’d had enough. He told my blackmailer he couldn’t do any further damage and to go away.”

“Instead, he went to your husband.”

“Yes, but there Drake made his mistake. He asked the viscount for money to keep silent. Drake thought my father would have already told my husband about the blackmail. My husband, not knowing anything about the letters, demanded Drake give a full explanation of why he was asking for money.

“Drake was astounded. His business requires secrecy, and here the viscount was demanding he state his business in front of anyone walking through the lobby of his club. Drake kept asking for a private meeting, and the viscount refused. Perhaps my husband suspected I’d been indiscreet and didn’t want to learn about my failings. In the end, he had the doorman throw Drake out of his club.”

She faced me, both hands on the counter. “I nearly died when my husband told me the story that night. I wasn’t certain if he was warning me he’d eventually learn of my stupid, silly mistake. For weeks afterward, I was afraid Drake would appear and demand money from me, but he never did.”

I guessed it likely Drake thought the viscount had called his bluff, and, as he had with Waxpool and the Naylards, Drake simply gave up. “So your husband doesn’t know about Drake’s efforts to blackmail you or the existence of the letters?”

“No.”

“You’ve had a lucky escape.” And I could discount the viscount as a suspect in Drake’s attempted kidnapping.

“So you won’t bother my mother anymore?”

“One more thing. So much of this investigation has been about your sister Victoria and her death. What was she like? You must have known her better than most people.”

For the first time since entering my shop, Elizabeth smiled. “After all this time, I’ve forgotten most of what we fought about and just remember her beauty.”

“She seems to have been very popular but not well liked.”

“Yes. I was her younger sister, always ordered around by her. And Mummy always took her side. She ordered our brother around until he escaped to school. She and Margaret Ranleigh fought constantly because Victoria tried to tell her what to do and what to wear, and Margaret would have none of it. Victoria even went so far as to tell her that after she married her brother, Margaret would have to do exactly as Victoria said, or she’d have the duke cut off her allowance and keep her home in Blackford Castle.”

“I imagine Margaret didn’t like hearing those words.”

“Not at all. If Margaret had stopped and thought for a minute, she’d have realized the duke would never have stepped into the middle of that fight. But Margaret was not one to stop and think, and Victoria loved to trick people into doing what she wanted.”

Elizabeth was now leaning on the counter, willing to tell me all the gossip now the danger that her husband would learn of her indiscretion had passed. I decided to press a little more. “What was Victoria like as a person? What did she enjoy? What did she avoid?”

“Victoria loved a good time, to be the center of attention, to have the newest gown and the most admirers. She loved sweets and hated to walk and was already starting to get plump. Mummy was always after her about that, but she’d dump sugar and milk into her tea until there might as well not be any tea in the cup. The duke would have quickly found himself saddled with a fat wife.”

The bell over the door jingled and Elizabeth jumped and looked around guiltily as Emma returned from her afternoon with Lady Westover. The viscountess looked back at me and whispered, “I trust you won’t repeat anything I’ve told you in confidence.”

“Your secrets are safe with me.”

She nodded and strolled out the door without a glance at any of the books. For all her interest, the shop could have been empty.

Chapter Sixteen

EMMA, all blond elegance and aristocratic reserve, lifted one eyebrow and watched Viscountess Dalrymple leave. Her childhood in an East End criminal gang had made her an actress far beyond my talents.

“The lecture was interesting,” she announced in an upper-crust accent. Then her eyes gleamed and she became Emma again. “Daisy Hancock is not our blackmail victim. No letters to Drake. She says he’s fun, but she’s worth more than ‘fun.’”

“She actually said that?”

Emma giggled. “That girl is completely in love with herself. She gossips with abandon, probably shops with as much glee, and the only letters she writes are to accept or decline invitations and the thank-you notes she moans over having to compose afterward. She says she hates to write. Thinking makes her squint, and that will put lines on her face before her time.”

“Really?” Daisy Hancock sounded incredibly vapid.

“Really. She loves balls, has never read a book, and proclaimed the lecture a crashing bore because there were so few young men attending. She doesn’t commit anything to writing and her behavior in public is exactly what you’d expect from a debutante.”

“I can’t see Drake blackmailing someone like her. She’d be too careful to create a scandal.” But we’d been told Lord Hancock was one of Drake’s victims. “So it’s the uncle, not the ward, who’s Drake’s victim.”

“Perhaps one of his experiments went too far? Daisy said he spends all his time in his laboratory at Chelling Meadows, developing new weapons for our colonial troops.”

“You got on well with her.” I wasn’t surprised. Emma made friends with everyone.

“I did. I pretended to be a bluestocking who’s trying to convince her father to let her go to university. No competition, but keenly interested in everything she had to say.”

“Did she say anything else about her uncle or the laboratory?”

“A few years ago, she tried to get into his laboratory. Out of boredom, I’d guess. She never was able to get the key away from him, and she never found another way in. She describes it as a fortress. She also complained he’s in a hurry to marry her off, but she wants another couple of seasons.”

“Money difficulties?” I guessed.

“Maybe. Or maybe he just wants the silly goose off his hands.”

I nodded and began to turn away when I remembered my news. “The Duke of Blackford was by today while you were gone. We’re to go tonight to Lady Westover’s after we close up to practice wearing our jewels for the ball. Our real jewels.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Is that wise?”

“The duke doesn’t think anyone will go after the jewels. And he doesn’t expect us to guard them.”

She looked at me, comprehension dawning. “He has something planned, and we’re the bait.”

“Better us than a real aristocrat.” I heard the grim tone in my voice.

“So, if someone will be after us for us and not for the jewels, who are we supposed to be? Surely not the staff of a bookshop or members of the Archivist Society.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “We’ll have to ask him tonight when we reach Lady Westover’s. While we walk around unarmed and wearing jewels, he’ll be armed to the teeth. He’s appearing as a highwayman.”

Emma nodded. “Appropriate.”

The shop bell rang, and from that moment we were both kept busy with customers until closing. I locked up the proceeds for the day while Emma straightened the shop and then stood waiting by the front door. I’d nearly reached her when she said, “Forgetting something?”

I’d pulled out copies of the newest novels that came in that day for Phyllida and left them in the office. She’d never forgive me if I left them behind, considering she thought of them as her special perk for living with two booksellers. “Thank you. Go on without me. Tell Phyllida I’ll be right behind you, but don’t tell her what I forgot.”

Emma nodded and left the shop. I went back into the office and hurriedly grabbed up the thin volumes of popular fiction featuring damsels in distress and brave heroes. Too hurriedly. I knocked a stack of papers on the floor. I piled them back on the desk, promising myself to organize them tomorrow.

Turning off the electric lights, I looked around the dim shop for a moment with a sigh of contentment. We’d made a little money, there’d been no disasters, and we may have made some progress on the Archivist Society investigation. Another successful day.

I stepped out of the shop, locked the door, and headed for the flat. The night was turning foggy, but it was still early enough to use our shortcut. I had just turned the corner and taken a few steps into the alley when a hand reached out and grabbed me.

I screamed and swung my umbrella. In a lucky stroke, I stabbed my attacker in the leg. With a roar, he struck with his fist, knocking me over. My ears rang and my hands stung from hitting the rough, filthy paving stones. He kicked me in the corset. I couldn’t catch my breath.

“Where’s Drake?”

I doubled up, gasping.

He grabbed me by the hair. “Where’s Drake?”

I tried to scream, but only whimpered.

“Hey! You!”

The grip on my hair loosened and I slumped to the ground as footsteps pounded down the alley.

“Miss. Are you all right?”

Hands lifted me up to a standing position and I found myself facing two young clerks. My hair was falling around my ears and my hat was trampled in the damp dirt of the alley, which also coated my clothes. The two men picked up my hat and the now-wrinkled books and handed them to me.

“Thank you.” I burst into tears, ruining what little dignity was left to me.

When the clerks helped me to the flat, Emma and Phyllida thanked them profusely and Phyllida gave them the apple pastry that she had made for our dessert. Despite my protests, I was undressed and ordered into a tub of hot water.

It didn’t take long for me to recover. My corset was tough enough to withstand any thug’s boot and he’d only struck glancing blows. Getting dressed again was another issue. Phyllida didn’t want us to go to Lady Westover’s, since my attacker was still out there.

Emma slipped her knife out. “Either we’ll be fine, or he won’t be. Besides, I want to try on those jewels.”

Phyllida threw her hands in the air and went to dish up dinner while Emma helped me dress. I was glad we weren’t trying on our ball gowns that night, since I didn’t want the stays on my corset pulled too tightly against my ribs and a bruise was forming under my left eye.

After a hasty dinner, complete with suggestions from Phyllida to keep our noses in the air if we wanted to look authentic in our jewels, we were ready to find out what awaited us at Lady Westover’s.

The wind from the day before had died down and now fog muffled every street, alley, and path in London. While we heard occasional hoofbeats, no hansom cabs passed us, so we were forced to walk. We found our way to Lady Westover’s in the dark by moving from one familiar landmark to another, one lamppost to the next. All the while, the footsteps I heard trailing us sent icy fingers skittering down my spine.

Emma slipped her knife out and showed it to me, but I still felt threatened. When we found an omnibus stop, we caught the next one and rode part of the way. As much as I wanted to, I hadn’t caught a glimpse of Sumner, the man the Duke of Blackford had hired to guard me if I went out at night. After we left the omnibus near Lady Westover’s home, I heard the footsteps again. Although I wanted to believe I heard Sumner following us, I was relieved to climb the steps to Westover House.

The butler opened the door and let us in along with a wisp of fog. As he took our wraps, he said, “Her ladyship is in the parlor. You’re to go right up.”

Lady Westover sat across from the Duke of Blackford, open jewel cases spread out on a table between them. Emma walked forward, staring at the sparkling riches for her to examine. My own stare was focused on a dim corner of the room where Sumner stood guard.

My heart thudded into my stomach. Sumner was here guarding the duke and the jewels. His couldn’t have been the footsteps I’d heard behind us. I’d had no protection during or after my encounter with the ruffian. “If you’re in here . . . ,” I began and clenched my hands together as I shut my eyes.

The duke sprang from the sofa before I opened them. “You were followed. Good God, Georgia, what happened to you?”

I pointed to my bruised cheekbone. “This happened when I left the shop tonight. I heard footsteps coming here, but I didn’t see anyone. Too foggy.”

The duke nodded to Sumner, who left the room. “Could it have been someone headed in the same direction?”

I remembered my last trip to Sir Broderick’s. “How long has it been since Sumner stopped guarding us in the evening?”

The duke scowled. “I had him stop almost immediately. You never went out at night, so I decided there was no reason for concern.”

I felt a cold breath on my neck at the thought of someone out there following us. And when I was alone, someone had struck. It made me wish I carried a weighted walking stick like the duke’s or a knife like Emma’s. “This is the second time it’s happened. We were followed from here to Sir Broderick’s three days ago.”

The duke muttered a foul curse, looked around in embarrassment, and picked up a tiara. With a false note of heartiness in his voice, he said, “Now, ladies, time to start becoming accustomed to wearing jewels and tiaras.”

I caught the duke’s gaze and held it. Whoever had set those two ruffians on me after Lady Westover’s dinner party had sent someone three more times. Two of those times, he’d not attacked. Was it because I wasn’t alone? I couldn’t spend my life with someone next to me every time I went out to keep me safe. I had to find this thug, and the person who’d hired him, and stop this horror.

The duke shook his head slightly as he returned my gaze and then handed Lady Westover a tiara. While Lady Westover adjusted Emma’s tiara, the duke set mine on my head with the solemnity of an archbishop crowning a queen.

While he stood there admiring his jewelry, I said, “Why are you going to all this trouble to help us, Your Grace?”

“I want Drake to hand over the letters he’s stolen. Surely the Archivist Society doesn’t mind assistance.”

“Not at all.”

“Good. Start walking,” he commanded.

Emma took to her diamond and sapphire tiara immediately, her bearing becoming more regal by the moment. I, on the other hand, held my head stiffly while keeping my eyes focused upward as if I could see the diamond and ruby confection resting atop my red-tinged locks.

Finally, the duke stepped in front of the path I was walking across the parlor while dodging ferns and flowers and said, “Georgia, look at me.”

I did as he ordered and found myself staring into fathomless dark eyes. “I fear I can’t guard your jewels properly, Your Grace.”

“Don’t worry about the jewels. They’re insured. And I don’t want you guarding them; I want you wearing them. Proudly. Like a duchess.”

“More like a tethered goat, don’t you mean?”

“There will be at least one hundred and fifty ladies there, all dressed in their finest jewels. Why would a jewel thief choose you? And why in a crowded room? No, you don’t have to worry about jewel thieves. You need to keep a lookout for Nicholas Drake.”

“You know he’s still alive?”

His only indication of surprise was a slight rise in his eyebrows. “I didn’t know he died.”

Blast. I hadn’t been going to tell him or anyone else outside the Archivist Society that I’d talked to Drake or that we’d thought he was dead. Until I knew why a duke was going to all this trouble for the Archivist Society, I didn’t feel I could trust him. “We can’t be sure until we see him.”

“Hopefully, you will at the ball. I’ve set a plan in motion that Drake won’t be able to resist. You’ll be there as both sentinel and bait.” He raised his head and his voice. “Lady Westover, will the dresses be such that no man will be able to resist them?”

“I certainly hope so, Duke. We have such good material to work with.”

He looked me over from head to toe. “Yes, we do.”

I held his gaze as heat crept up my face. No man had looked at me that way since I was barely older than Emma. I never thought I’d be flattered by a duke. Especially a duke who fevered my dreams.

After that, I was able to walk without thinking about the tiara. I was too busy trying to figure out what the Duke of Blackford had in mind. Sumner returned and whispered something in the duke’s ear. Then he returned to the corner, where his gaze never left Emma.

“Georgia,” Lady Westover said as she fell into step next to me, “I know what happened yesterday was not your fault. I should not have been angry with you. However, Honoria has been my friend for a very long time, and I hate to see her distressed.”

“I feel badly for her, and badly for you to see her so”—I searched for a euphemism—“despondent.”

“It would be terrible for her and the family if word were to spread of her . . . affliction.”

“It’s a shame her husband could drink himself under the table and no one in polite society would bat an eye, but his poor grieving wife can’t.”

Lady Westover’s stern expression told me my opinion was not welcome.

“I spoke to Lord Dutton-Cox. He mourns his daughter as much as his wife does. She needs to try to rely on him. Encourage her to talk to him, Lady Westover.”

“I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, she needs privacy to regain her composure.”

“No one will hear of her lapse from me. I’ve already made the same promise to her daughter, Elizabeth. I can’t speak for the Dutton-Cox servants.”

“That’s all I ask, Georgia. That you allow her to suffer in peace. And hopefully she’ll regain her common sense.” She gave me a sharp look. “You went so far as to question her daughter after that unpleasant visit with Honoria?”

“Elizabeth came to visit me at the bookshop. She told me about their problems with Nicholas Drake and what her sister was like. She doesn’t seem worried that I’ll bother her mother again.”

“Good. I’m glad she’s showing some interest in her mother. Honoria’s going to need all the help she can get from her family.”

I nodded, and the tiara stayed in place. I gave her a surprised smile, and she patted my arm. Apparently I could be trusted as much as one of aristocratic birth.

“What costumes will Drake’s victims wear to the ball?” I asked.

“Waxpool and his grandchildren won’t be attending. Neither will the Dutton-Coxes or the Naylards,” Lady Westover said.

“The younger Dutton-Cox daughter, Elizabeth, will be attending with her husband, Viscount Dalrymple. They’re going as Cleopatra and Mark Antony,” the duke said, suddenly appearing at my side.

“This is her first masked ball as a married woman. Young women often run wild when they’re first freed from their chaperones,” Lady Westover said with a tsk.

“She couldn’t get away with it if Dalrymple wasn’t daring,” the duke said. “They’re well matched.”

“I know what you’re wearing,” I told the duke. “What about the Mervilles and Lord Hancock?”

“The Mervilles go as Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI every year. I don’t know about Hancock or his ward.”

I glanced out of the corner of my eye at Lady Westover, who shook her head. “I don’t know, either.”

When the duke proclaimed us ready, all the jewels were put away and then loaded into a small chest. “Would you ladies like a ride home in my carriage?”

“That would be very kind, Your Grace,” Emma said before I could open my mouth.

“I need to stop at Sir Broderick’s house for a moment tonight, so—”

The duke gave me a gracious smile. “We will make a small detour.”

Thanking Lady Westover, we went out and climbed into his tall carriage. Emma scrambled in with grace. With my muscles screaming from the earlier attack, I needed a hand to make my way up the folding steps and felt awkward.

Within a few minutes, we were at Sir Broderick’s stoop. When the carriage door was opened, I looked at the pavement far below my feet and shuddered.

I was helped from the carriage by a footman while another of the duke’s liveried servants rang the bell. Jacob opened the door in time to see me land heavily on both feet on the pavement. Fighting a grin, he said, “Georgia, do you need to see Sir Broderick?”

“No. Just a message for him.” Sliding a quick glance toward the duke watching me from the carriage, I leaned toward Jacob and whispered in his ear. “Send word to Frances Atterby that she needs to come to the bookshop tomorrow to help Emma for the next four days. I’m going north to talk to the duke’s sister. I need to know what’s going on before this masked ball.”

“What’s wrong?” he whispered back.

“I don’t know. None of this makes sense.” Then, raising my voice, I wished him a good night and climbed into the carriage with as much dignity as I could muster, since I couldn’t manage any agility.

*

I LEFT FROM King’s Cross Station the next morning wearing my traveling clothes and carrying a few good novels in my holdall. I broke my journey in Durham at the end of the first day, staying in a small guesthouse and touring the cathedral. The next morning I started out again early by rail for the village of Blackford on the River Black.

For the last few miles I transferred from a slow-moving local train to an open cart, bouncing painfully on a wooden plank under the weak midafternoon sunshine. The water rushing in the river alongside the road raised my spirits and I hoped for a quick end to my journey.

I could smell the sea before we arrived. Then Castle Blackford’s turrets appeared above the treetops, and soon I had my first view of the village.

The village, when we came to it, rose up the hillsides, probably looking much as it had when the Vikings arrived. The sea pounded against the river at the mouth of the rocky harbor. One bridge at the inland end of the village connected the stone and slate buildings on each side of the river above the docks.

Walking into the only inn, I found the grim-faced manageress in the reception room. She showed me to a tiny room on the first floor with an iron bedstead and a view of a single horse cart in the street. I reserved dinner and set out on the climb to the castle.

The lane constantly rose until I thought I’d reach the clouds, but I didn’t mind. I was curious to see the home of the Duke of Blackford. The tang of salt filled my head and the call of seabirds rang in the breezy air. As the path curved back and forth, a stone fortress came in and out of view behind pine trees and the boulders that lined the road. It looked medieval and decidedly uncomfortable.

When I reached it, I was glad to see the drawbridge was down, because the tall, unbroken walls were unbreachable. I walked through the empty gateway and into the cobblestoned courtyard. On either side were stables and other outbuildings against the protecting walls. In front of me, set in the center of the fortress, was a modern stone manor house with large windows. The edge of a flower garden peeked out from behind the house but in front of the surrounding wall. I headed toward a door facing me on the ground floor, hoping I’d find a bell to ring.

Before I reached the house, someone found me. A middle-aged woman in a faded dress and apron, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and a kerchief around her hair, came out of a low door in a building to my left and crossed over to me. “Hello,” she said, suspicion in her voice.

“Hello. I’ve come to speak to Lady Margaret.”

She stared at me, her eyes widening.

“May I speak to her, please?”

“Oh, you can speak to her. I don’t know whether she’ll speak to you, though. Ask at the church in the village.” At that, the woman turned on her heel and walked away.

Had Lady Margaret become a nun, or did she spend every day in prayer here in the middle of this wild landscape? I glanced back when I reached the gateway and saw the woman watching me through narrowed eyes.

As I walked downhill to the village, I caught the sparkle of the sea through the trees and boulders. All the buildings, from castle to shed, were built of stone. Wood seemed reserved for the boats I spotted in the small harbor.

The church was on the edge of the village, a small, green, tree-shaded graveyard spreading out on two sides. Seeing no one about, I opened one of the heavy doors and walked into the sanctuary. It was beautiful, with stained glass sending sparks of color over the pews, rich cloths covering the carved stone altar, and shadowy corners.

The vicar came out from the side and said, “May I help you?”

“I was told Lady Margaret is here.”

“Yes, near the oak tree.”

“I didn’t see anyone outside.”

He gave me an odd little smile. “Her grave is there.”

Chapter Seventeen

I FELT, rather than heard, my gasp. None of the books on the peerage listed a date of death for Lady Margaret Ranleigh. “When did she die?”

“Nearly two years ago.”

“Quite suddenly?”