Текст книги "The Vanishing Thief"

Автор книги: Kate Parker

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“He’s beyond our power to ask him.”

“Is he dead?” She sounded hopeful.

“No. Not that we know of. Only missing. Tell me about Mr. Drake.”

“He’s a good-looking man, well dressed, but cruel. Evil.”

I would have to have been deaf to have missed the venom in her voice. “Isn’t that a harsh judgment, Miss Lucinda?”

“No less than he deserves.”

“Why don’t you like him?”

Now her steps sped up. “That is a private matter.”

I decided to force the subject. “I’ve heard he’s tried to blackmail several people, so I understand why they don’t like him. Did he try to blackmail you, too?”

Lucinda’s face paled, but she sped up her pace walking east. “No. No, he couldn’t blackmail me. Only people who have something to hide are blackmailed.”

“Everyone has something to hide. Sometimes people want to hide good news from their friends and neighbors.”

“How could someone be blackmailed over good news, even if they didn’t want to share it with the world?”

“Tell me, Miss Lucinda. Tell me how Nicholas Drake could do such a thing.”

“He didn’t.”

“Lying is a sin.”

She gave me a sorrowful look. “Something else for me to confess.”

“Confess?” Then I understood. “Miss Lucinda, you’ve converted to the Roman faith.”

“Yes.” She lifted her chin and said the word more defiantly. “Yes.”

“Nicholas Drake held this against you.”

“He threatened to tell my brother if I didn’t pay him. The fool didn’t realize there are no secrets between Laurence and me. He’s an even greater fool for trying to separate us.”

Her expression told me how very foolish Drake had been. “Why would he do that?”

“So he could take advantage of my brother’s good nature. He quickly learned he couldn’t drive a wedge between us.” She gave me a satisfied smile.

“Your brother already knew about your conversion before Drake tried to blackmail you?”

“Yes. Laurence has no problem with it as long as I don’t leave him.”

We both kept quiet as we waited for a break in the never-ending line of carriages, wagons, omnibuses, and horses crowding the street. Finally, a second’s pause in the traffic let us scramble across the busy intersection.

“Prospective spouses for either of you might find this need for a combined household difficult.” Aristocrats have to continue their bloodlines. A requirement drilled into them from the nursery. I wondered if any of Lord Naylard’s lessons had made an impression.

“I want to become a nun, so marriage is out of the question. And Laurence is in no hurry to wed. Once he finds a suitable wife who will both love him and provide his backbone, I will join a convent both for my own joy and for his domestic peace.”

We were nearing Charing Cross Road. We would soon leave the boundaries of Miss Lucinda’s world. “Where are you headed?”

“The chapel of St. Etheldreda near the Holborn Viaduct. It’s an ancient church, used by the faithful long before the Reformation.” Her face took on an otherworldly glow. “I feel so close to Christ there.”

I envied her faith. “One last question if I may, Miss Lucinda. What did Drake do and say when you told him your brother knew and had no problems with your conversion?”

A smile crossed her face. “That was the only time I saw Nicholas Drake speechless. I thought for a moment he was going to strike me, but then he took a deep breath, said he was sorry he misjudged me, and walked off. He’s made no attempts to bother me again.

“And he’s been more circumspect in his efforts to get money from my brother. My brother considers him a friend, so I don’t object to the occasional pound or two for dinner or the theater, and Drake limits his claims on my brother’s purse. A satisfactory compromise.” With a nod, she walked off.

It was a short walk from where I left her on her journey to St. Etheldreda’s to return to my bookshop. Emma was finishing with a customer when I walked through to hang my cloak in the back hall and take off my hat and outdoor gloves.

I stayed in the back hall for a minute, wishing my thoughts would lead me further into the investigation. Except for the certainty that the Naylards had nothing to do with Drake’s disappearance, I was truly lost.

I had nothing to show for my efforts but a ruined evening gown. It was out of date, but it was a memento from my courtship. I’d worn it the night my love had taken me to the theater. The night he’d proposed.

Walking into the office, I shuffled papers until the tears stopped falling.

When I returned to the shop, Emma was the only one present. I told her how Drake had missed the mark with the Naylards.

“Well, that’s one who didn’t abduct Drake. Who shall we look at next?”

“The Duke of Merville was being blackmailed over a scandal ten years in the past. One that would make him laughed at. One that Drake learned of.”

“What did Lady Westover make of that?”

“She had no idea. And to find out the Duke of Blackford’s sister’s secret, we’ll have to travel to Northumberland to question her.”

“Is that necessary? The Duke of Blackford is cooperating with you.”

He’d saved me from my attackers, but I felt he was using us rather than cooperating. “Is he? I get the distinct impression he’s holding something back. He wants to buy his sister’s letters. That much is straightforward and understandable. But there’s more. I’m sure of it. And it’s the something more that could be the clue to Drake’s disappearance.”

“I think you need to have another talk with him,” Emma said, a smile trailing her lips. “How did he know we were meeting at Sir Broderick’s about Drake’s disappearance, and how many other people did he tell?”

I returned the smile as another thought struck me. “With the weather as it is, I should catch Lady Julia Waxpool at home. I was told she was a friend of the duke’s sister. Maybe her answers will save me from traveling to Northumberland.”

Before I could put on my cloak, a customer walked into the shop. He looked down in surprise and asked, “Is he yours?”

“Is who—?” I took a few steps toward the man and saw a brownish striped cat march into the shop, his tail up despite water dripping from his fur.

“Aaah.” Emma grabbed some dust rags and followed the cat to the window ledge where he jumped up and looked out at the rain. She began to rub his back and sides with the cloths. “What shall we call him?”

“Gone.”

The cat stared at me with regal disdain. A notch in one ear and a small missing patch of fur on one hind leg gave a hint to his less-than-royal lifestyle.

“Nonsense. He’s purring. He likes us.” Emma continued to pet the cat and I waited on our customer.

As he left with a mathematics text, the man said, “Looks like he’s staying. What’ll you name him?”

“This is a bookshop. We’ll name him something literary. Shakespeare, perhaps.” If he wouldn’t leave, willingly or unwillingly.

“Voltaire,” Emma suggested.

“He’s an English cat,” I said. “How about Charles Dickens?”

Emma smiled. “Perfect. Hello, Charlie.”

The cat hissed his displeasure.

“I think we’d better call him Dickens,” I said, glaring at the cat. I would swear he lifted his chin to look down his nose at me.

The man, laughing, said, “I think that’ll be appropriate,” and hurried off, umbrella clutched in one hand and book snug in the other.

Putting on my still-damp outerwear, I reminded Emma we were running a bookshop, not a foundling home for felines, and ventured into the cold drizzle again. Fortunately, the Waxpool town house was just our side of Berkeley Square. I didn’t have far to go. Even more fortunately, Lady Julia agreed to see me.

I was taken to a small, cheerful parlor with a warming fire and plenty of burning gas lamps. Books and periodicals were scattered over every surface, from the pale pink sofas to the delicate writing desk by the window. The heavy pink draperies were pulled back, showing delicate lace curtains over windows with dim light shining through.

Lady Julia was standing near the fire as I walked in, glasses perched on her nose, looking at my calling card. “Do I know you?”

“I doubt it, my lady.” I decided the room told me enough about the young woman to take a chance. “I’m an avid reader, but that’s not why I’m here. Is this your room?”

“Really, it’s Grandpapa’s, along with the rest of the house, but no one uses this room but me. You came to see the room?”

“No, but I like it very much.” I smiled with pleasure as I picked up a volume. “This is a room well lived in. Austen is one of my favorites.” I set the book down gently. “But I’m afraid I came to see you on two matters of great delicacy.”

She slipped off her glasses and set them carefully on the desk. “Then I suppose you need to come stand by the fire and warm up.”

I did so, gratefully, while she rang for a servant and ordered tea. Then she joined me in front of the fire. “Have we met before?”

“No.”

She glanced toward the window where rain could be heard beating on the glass. I was glad I had arrived before the downpour struck. “Why did you come here in this terrible weather, Mrs. Peabody?”

“It’s Miss. I am unmarried.”

She nodded at whatever she was thinking and then shoved aside two books to settle on one of the pale pink sofas. “Whenever you feel sufficiently dried off, please sit down and tell me what these two delicate matters are.”

“Thank you.”

Warmth had reentered my bones by the time the tea arrived. I sat while Lady Julia poured. Once we both had our cups and the servant had departed, I began. “I understand you were close to Lady Margaret Ranleigh.”

“I thought we were at one time.”

“You’ve not heard from her since she left town?”

“No. I wrote, but I never received a reply. I suppose her brother is keeping her locked up in their castle in Northumberland.”

Having met the duke, I could believe he lived in a castle and not a manor house. “Is it truly a fortress?”

“According to Margaret, it’s a massive stone castle overlooking the North Sea. The outer wall is medieval with ramparts and arrow slits and turrets.” Lady Julia smiled at a memory. “She used to joke about it, saying how much she hated growing up among savages and all the while imagining Vikings coming ashore to rescue her from the tower.”

“It sounds like you were great friends.”

“We were. Or I thought we were. We had the same dream of marrying for love, but it’s so hard for a woman with money. Neither of us could tell who was interested in us, and who was after our money. And Margaret had the extra problem of her brother. I’m glad mine isn’t like that.”

I felt an instant urge to defend the duke, but stopped myself. Lady Julia had known him much longer than I had. Perhaps, God forbid, her analysis of his character was correct.

“What is Lady Margaret’s problem with her brother?”

“He has her imprisoned in that castle in Northumberland, doesn’t he?” she snapped out.

“Why would her brother keep her locked up in a place she hates?”

Lady Julia’s expression turned distant and she drew slightly away from where I sat across from her as if distancing herself from me. “I’m sure I don’t know.”

I decided to take a risk. “I know it has to do with the sudden death of Miss Victoria Dutton-Cox. Lady Margaret hated her, didn’t she?”

“Yes.”

I waited, and when nothing else was forthcoming, I tried again. “Lady Margaret saw her the day she died. Were you there as well?”

“Yes. Well, not when she died. I’d already left.”

“Could you give me a clearer picture of what happened?”

“Surely it doesn’t matter now.”

“I’m afraid a man’s life may depend on it.”

Her eyes widened. “Who?”

“Nicholas Drake.”

“There’s a name I’ve not heard in a while. I spent last season studying at Oxford—well, at the ladies’ college Lady Margaret Hall—reading history and economics. I didn’t attend society events. I only saw Mr. Drake at balls the season before that. I know Victoria and Margaret spent a great deal of time in his company, but I avoided him.”

My own eyes widened in surprise. I’d thought Lady Julia might be one of his blackmail victims. “Why?”

“He was too smooth. Too friendly. Too quick off the mark. Does that make sense?”

“I believe it makes a great deal of sense. He wasn’t blackmailing you, was he?”

Amused disbelief flashed across her face. “No. My interest in books and banking is well-known. There are no secret lovers or torrid affairs in my past. I’m far too dull to be blackmailed. And now you want me to tell you what happened the day Victoria died, to save Drake’s life?”

“I think it will help a great deal.”

She took a sip of tea and set the cup and saucer down on the side table. “When I arrived at Blackford House that day, Victoria was already there. They each had a small teapot in front of them with their cup and saucer, and Margaret rang for a third one for me.”

“Did you find that odd? Two teapots?”

“Yes, and then a third one seemed stranger still. Margaret said since it was such a blustery day out, everyone would want tea, and she hated stale tea. The pot gets cold and the tea bitter before the last cup is poured, so she was trying something new. Actually, she stole the idea from the tea shops and admitted as much. Fresh-brewed tea for each guest.”

“How was Victoria that day?”

“Complaining of a heaviness in her lungs. Winter air bothered her, poor thing.”

“Why did she go out and brave the weather to visit Margaret? You just said they hated each other.”

“I don’t know. There was a tension in the air, but they made every effort to cover it up when I arrived.”

“Did all three of you fix your tea the same way?”

“Margaret never put milk in hers, while Victoria and I both did. We all took sugar, Victoria most of all. Margaret said something rude and Victoria added even more. I don’t know how she stood it so sweet, but she drank her tea.”

Julia smiled. “Margaret mentioned once she wanted to add sugar to Victoria’s tea in secret, to see if Victoria could stand it after all the sugar she put in.” The smile vanished. “Now we’ll never know.”

“How long did Victoria stay?”

“About a half hour after I arrived, she said she felt very tired, that her heart was pounding, and could she lie down. Margaret insisted we take her home and have her doctor called. I agreed. I thought she looked very red, and her skin was clammy.”

“Did she complain about how the tea tasted?”

“No.”

“You’re certain about that?” If Victoria’s tea was poisoned, it should have tasted bitter or metallic. Wrong, somehow.

“Yes, I’m certain. I was asked that later by both Lord Dutton-Cox and the Duke of Blackford. I told them both what I’m telling you. She said nothing about her tea tasting strange in any way.”

I nodded. Victoria mustn’t have been poisoned with her tea. “Were you served anything else to eat or drink?”

“Nothing, which was strange, but may have been why there was such an atmosphere in the room. Margaret was always on Victoria about her weight. I guess it was to pay her back for being on Margaret about her clothes, her manners, her interests, and the men she favored.”

Was there anything the two didn’t fight over? “What happened next?”

“Victoria said she felt so weak, she’d have to be carried. Margaret called her a silly fool and went to help her up. In the process, the tea tray went over. I was standing next to it and grabbed one of the pots, but the rest went over with a crash and splashed us all.”

“Was she really that weak?”

“I don’t know. Margaret said not to worry about the tea but to help her with Victoria. I did, of course, so I was standing close by when Victoria again said she’d have to lie down. Margaret said, in the duke’s house before the wedding? Did she want to start a scandal by throwing herself at the duke and forcing him to marry her? Her brother would surely balk at marriage then. Victoria grumbled and demanded we give her a hand.”

“Could she walk?”

“She could. All three of us tromped through broken china, with crunching sounds at every step. It would have been embarrassing, but no one noticed because Victoria had enough energy to stomp around and carry on dramatically. I think she hoped Margaret would back down and invite her to stay. Margaret rolled her eyes and made obvious she thought Victoria was trying to have her own way. Victoria was the type to always insist on having things her way.”

Julia didn’t sound like she thought Victoria’s illness was too serious at that moment. “And then?”

“We all climbed into the Blackford coach and rode around to the Dutton-Cox house. By the time we arrived, Victoria was feeling nauseous and the footmen had to help her upstairs to bed. Margaret, Victoria’s sister Elizabeth, and I went with her. Her mother called the doctor and sent word to the club for her father.”

“Elizabeth didn’t call on Margaret with Victoria?”

“Victoria fought with Elizabeth even more than she did with Margaret. It sounds terrible to say now, but Victoria only got along with men.”

“Why? Did Victoria like to read and discuss politics and economics?” Elizabeth certainly didn’t. She hadn’t so much as glanced at the books in my shop as she walked by. If Victoria was intellectually curious, she would have found Elizabeth dull.

Lady Julia gave a deep-throated laugh. “No. Only men appreciated Victoria’s flirtations. She hadn’t a thought in her head.”

And the duke was going to marry her? He would have quickly grown tired of her. Since Victoria didn’t die of strangulation, I was confident the duke wasn’t her murderer. “How long did you stay at the Dutton-Cox house?”

“Perhaps another ten minutes after her father arrived with the Duke of Blackford and Nicholas Drake.”

“They all came together?”

“Yes. Apparently, the duke had received an anonymous letter charging—let’s just say that Drake was involved in irregularities. The three men had been arguing about it when the message arrived and they all came back to the Dutton-Cox house.”

Lady Julia Waxpool shook her head. “When the doctor arrived and Victoria began vomiting, we left the room. Margaret stayed with her brother across the hallway from where Elizabeth stood next to her father. There was quite a lot of arguing going on, and her mother was wailing the house down. All I could think was poor Victoria, to be ill in that atmosphere.”

“And later? When she died?”

“I had already left. Victoria was known to have a weak heart, but I didn’t think I’d never see her again. I guess between the cold air on her lungs and the illness, her heart couldn’t take any more. When we met a few days later, Margaret and I agreed, we never expected Victoria to die.”

Chapter Nine

BY the next day, Emma had convinced me to question the Duke of Blackford again. I took the coward’s way out and sent him a message. On my best writing paper, I asked him the questions Emma had raised the day before. I didn’t ask the questions I most wanted answered. What was he hiding? And where did his sister and his late fiancée enter into the troubles Drake was now facing?

By noontime, a message was returned in a dark, bold hand saying, Come for tea today and I will tell you. The message was unsigned, but it was on the letterhead of the Duke of Blackford.

“Too bad it’s raining,” Emma said when I showed her the reply. “What do you wear to take tea with a duke?”

I looked at the smock I had worn over my clothes while giving the office a good cleaning that morning. I was filthy. I shouldn’t have chosen that day to straighten out the back room, but it was a task I’d avoided for too long. “Not this. And I’ll need to bathe.”

“I’ll take over the shop for the afternoon.” Emma started to turn away and then faced me again. “Don’t wash your hair. There’s no time to dry it. And pin it up carefully when you bathe, or you’ll catch your death of cold outside.”

“It’s a good thing I washed it for the dinner party. I’ll need you to help me do my hair about three.”

Emma nodded and then we both burst out laughing and hugged. After she brushed off the dirt I’d transferred onto her, Emma said, “Tea with a duke. You’ll have to tell me every last detail.”

I promised I would.

It was nearly two when I gave up on the office, said good-bye to Emma, and went around to the entrance to our apartment block near the shops. Our building was fairly new, with modern conveniences, but there were no internal stairs from shop to living space that had been so handy when I was a child. Those stairs were something I missed until I went to our cozy rooms and enjoyed our instant hot water and indoor plumbing.

I started the gas-powered geyser on the tap to heat the water and then Phyllida helped me undress. When I told her I was having tea with a duke, she only nodded.

“Anyone I know?”

“The Duke of Blackford.”

“It would be his father that I remember. The former duke was on the lookout for a replacement for the current duke’s mother. He chose a lovely, sweet-tempered young lady. I wonder how she fared, being married to an older, rather cross man.”

“They had a daughter.” I was in investigative mode and I didn’t stop to think before I asked personal questions. “Are you sorry you never married or had children?”

“And put more children within reach of my brother?” She shuddered. “Besides, I have you and Emma for my family, without all the bother of childhood illnesses or hiring nannies. Now, get a move on. You don’t want to keep a duke waiting.”

She gave me such a smile I was glad I pried. I stepped out of my stockings and went in my shift to the small room where the mahogany-edged tub sat. I turned on the tap and let the steaming water fill the tub as the geyser gurgled and hissed.

I soaked in the tub in peace until the water began to cool. When I emerged, ready to dress, Phyllida was waiting to help. “Does the duke know you run a bookshop?”

“Yes.”

She gave a last tug on my corset strings. “Then I’d suggest something businesslike. Your best shirtwaist is freshly ironed. Perhaps with your gray outfit.”

I nodded. “What do you think the duke wants? I sent him a note with some questions. He could have sent back a reply. I wasn’t asking anything personal.”

The room was silent as she pulled my petticoat and skirt over my head. “Perhaps he wants to hire you and the Archivists to find that missing man.”

“Perhaps.” I considered the possibility while she did up my buttons.

“How old is the duke?”

“Mid to late thirties, I’d guess.”

“And he doesn’t have a family? I’d say he’s interviewing you for the position of duchess. Or something like.” Her voice turned dry. “He hasn’t had any reason to get the wrong impression, has he?”

“I should hope not.” But his questions about my virginity still left me uneasy.

I looked prosperous in my newest white blouse with a gray skirt and jacket. Emma nodded her agreement when I entered the empty shop, though she frowned at my hair. With a few extra pins, she gave me a tidy coiffure. I could only hope it would stay that way as I strolled from Grosvenor Square toward Park Lane. The drizzle had let up and the wind died down, but with it, fog had settled onto the city once more.

By the time I reached the duke’s residence, the air was that peculiar yellowish gray and smelled vaguely of sulfur. People and carriages sprang out of the cloud and then disappeared again. All in all, an ominous, depressing day.

The butler took my wrap and escorted me to a small parlor in the back. If he remembered me from my first visit to Blackford House, his manner never showed any recollection of me scooting around him in the main hall.

The view from the window of the duke’s garden might be lovely on a clear day; today it was hidden behind an impenetrable film. A silent maid carried in a tea tray and set it on the low table by the sofa.

The duke arrived a minute later and found me still standing near the fire, looking about the pretty room and wondering what I, a middle-class bookshop owner, was doing there. He gestured for me to sit. I chose the sofa; he chose a wing chair. “My stepmother decorated this room.”

“It’s lovely.” It truly was, done in pinks and yellows with striped wallpaper and well-padded furniture. It was a light, cheerful room, not yet darkened over time by the grime of coal fires and gas lamps.

“Would you pour the tea?”

“Of course.” I hoped I wouldn’t make a mistake as he watched intently. “Cream or sugar, Your Grace?”

“Sugar. One lump.”

I handed him his cup and survived the ordeal without shaking too badly. He had a terrible effect on my nerves. His unblinking stare and pirate-raider expression made me wonder if he was going to lay siege to my honor or slit my throat.

After fixing my own tea, I looked at him expectantly. “You were going to answer some more questions for me?”

“I knew the Archivist Society was meeting at the time I arrived because I had you followed.”

“Really? Neither Emma nor I noticed anyone following us that night. He must be very good.”

“He is.”

“Why did you have me followed?” I studied him intently. There was something battle ready about his appearance, from his helmet of straight black hair to his uniform of black suit and waistcoat, white shirt and collar. The gold chain leading to his pocket watch was like a band of medals from previous skirmishes. This meeting felt like a test of wills. Why had the duke chosen to fight me on his home ground?

“Because I don’t want Nicholas Drake rescued by anyone but me. Since I wanted to speak to the Archivist Society, I decided sooner or later you would lead me to them. And you did. Thank you.” He took a sip of his tea and then set down the cup.

“You weren’t the only peer to visit us that night.”

“I’d mentioned your involvement and that of the Archivist Society to my fellow victims of Drake’s greed. Then, after I left your meeting that night, I ran into Lord Hancock at my club. He must have rushed over from the club to appeal to you to stop interfering.”

I nodded my head in reply, while my skin cried for another bath. I felt dirty from being spied on. “Am I still being followed?”

“After you were attacked, I decided my interference was to blame and I told one of my men to keep you safe when you go out in the evening.”

“Why?”

“I just told you why. My interference is to blame.” He snapped off the words as they left his mouth.

He might think he was being prudent, but I needed to know if someone following me had evil intentions. “It might be wise to introduce us. I’d hate to disable my protector.”

He gave one explosive laugh and then turned serious again. “That wouldn’t happen. You’re a lady.”

“No, I’m not, Your Grace. I’m a shopkeeper. I have calluses from hard work. I don’t have a houseful of servants and an estate in the country and a private income. I lost my parents at a young age. I’ve had to learn to rely on myself. My work for the Archivist Society makes self-reliance even more imperative.”

He stared into his tea, considering my words for a moment. “Fair enough. But you are a woman. And until God sees fit to change the universe, you will always be the weaker sex. This man has military training and fought nomads in the desert.”

“He sounds more capable than the ruffians I usually encounter. I’d like to meet him.” I caught the duke’s eye and smiled. He held my gaze as the edges of his lips curved upward.

“I’ll send him to your shop when he goes on duty tonight.” He picked up his cup and took another sip of tea.

As long as I was pushing my luck, I decided to see how far I could stretch the duke’s hospitality. “You mentioned the Duke of Merville’s reaction to Nicholas Drake included the words ‘it’s been over ten years.’ Could something have happened to one of his children so long ago that the event would still be worthy of blackmail? Do they all join him for the season every year?”

He set down his tea. “Merville had nothing to do with Drake’s disappearance. Of that, I am certain.”

“Why are you certain?”

He rose and strode around the small room without brushing against any of the bric-a-brac. I was amazed at how silently and gracefully he moved among the lace and tiny framed photographs and seashells and polished stones that covered every table and shelf.

He’d circled the room three times before I said, “Your Grace?”

“Perhaps because the duke has used the police to pursue Drake since his daughter’s party when her jewelry was discovered missing. Why would he ask the police to arrest Drake on one hand and take him prisoner on the other?”

“The Duke of Merville wanted to make sure if Mr. Drake escaped his attempts to capture him, the police would take him into custody. And who would suspect a man to both press charges and kidnap at the same time?”

He glared at me. “You’re far too devious. Merville wouldn’t think like that.”

“But you would, Your Grace.”

Before I could say more, he held up his hand. “I never pressed charges against Drake because I was not certain what he stole and what was given to him.”

“You believe your sister won’t ask for her jewelry because she freely gave it to Mr. Drake for some reason?” It made sense. So why did I feel the presence of some unseen force in this business?

“Drake has a powerful effect on women. My sister might have given him jewelry for a variety of reasons, including helping him out of a difficulty. Or he might have been pawning it on her behalf.” He paused and looked at me. “And her jewelry is her own to do with as she wants.”

“Clearly that’s not what Mr. Drake blackmailed you over.”

“Have you enjoyed your tea, Miss Fenchurch?”

I knew a dismissal when I heard one. “Very much, thank you. It’s too bad you won’t aid us in our search for Nicholas Drake.”

“Why do you say that?”

We both knew he wasn’t helping us, despite his civility. And because of his civility, or an unwarranted attachment I was developing for the man who cared about my safety, I was more truthful with my answer than I’d ordinarily be. I felt my face heat as I admitted, “You’re a capable man. There aren’t too many of those in the world, and it would be nice to work with you rather than have you try to block our efforts.”

A crooked smile spread slowly across his face. “If I were truly a capable man, you wouldn’t have noticed my attempts to redirect you.”

“Why did you say you don’t want anyone to rescue Nicholas Drake but yourself?”