Dancing with a Rogue (37 page)

Dani looked at her curiously.

“Lord Manchester found me leaving Stanhope's room.”

Dani was silent. Waiting.

“He was about a bit of thievery himself. I had taken banknotes from Stanhope's safe. He pointed out, rightly enough, that only a few guests or servants would have had access during supper. Those guests were Manchester and myself, and we did not want the servants blamed.”

“On the other hand, jewelry could have been taken at any time.” She swallowed hard. She really disliked the idea that Manchester had been right. “He suggested that I plant them in Stammel's room. He returned the banknotes.”

Dani smiled. “Sydney said his master is smarter than most people believe.”

Now it was Monique's turn to look questioning.

“Sydney is Manchester's valet. I told you …”

“Yes you did. I did not know his name was Sydney.”

Dani shrugged as if it were a matter of indifference. But Monique knew it was much more. Had Dani finally found someone who could make her forget a childhood that still haunted her?

“Take the jewels,” she said. “Hide them. There could well be a search any moment.”

Dani nodded and left the room.

Monique went over to the window. She couldn't see Dani from there, but she was restless. Manchester was taking risks. So was she. And she knew that after tonight, she could no longer play this game. The feel of her father's hands on her was worse than she had even imagined. She could not have tolerated even that much of a touch had it not been for Gabriel Manning, the Marquess of Manchester, who lay so silently on the other side of the bed.

She knew now she was not alone in this once-seemingly hopeless quest against such a powerful man.

Manchester had been right. She should have waited to take the banknotes. Despite the laudanum, Stanhope had been awake as he had fumbled with the combination and opened the safe. If the notes had not been there, he would have ordered a search. She did not know whether she could have gotten them to Dani in time, and whether Dani would have had time to secret them in the coach.

She had been foolish not to wait on Dani, but she had not wanted to involve her friend more than she already had.

Her encounter with Manchester outside Stanhope's room had stunned her. So had the fact that they apparently had the same goal, that he was every bit the thief she had learned to be.

She would laugh if the situation were not so fraught with emotional complications.

She'd learned a little more about him, that he felt deeply the disaster that had befallen his father. Still, that one piece did not complete the puzzle. She still did not know who and what he was. He wanted Stanhope convicted, but she did not have a better sense of what kind of man he was.

Monique told herself it did not matter. She did not need Manchester. She did not want him. She wanted nothing to do with him. Yet her heart had crumbled as she and Pamela had waited earlier in the ruins, expecting him to appear even as they had pretended not to wait.

And then she had run into him after committing a crime that could mean a death sentence. Instead of fear, she'd felt excitement.

What was wrong with her?

She went in search of a footman and told him that Lord Stanhope had collapsed in weariness on his bed and might need his valet. Then she returned to her room.

When she returned, Dani was there, a satisfied look on her face. “It is done,” she said.

“Then I think it is time for both of us to go to bed. Stay here with me tonight. We will be leaving early in the morning, I believe.”

Dani nodded. She helped Monique off with her gown and corset and into a nightdress. Then she brushed her hair and braided it.

When she finished, Monique took the brush. She wouldn't sleep this night, and she needed to do something. “I will brush yours,” she said.

They changed places and Monique brushed Dani's red hair. It was curlier than her own and Dani usually pulled it straight back in the most unflattering style.

But as it curled around her face, Dani looked quite pretty. Her blue eyes sparkled. Her cheeks were flushed, and, Monique suspected, not just from the journey to the carriage.

Monique finished. She hoped with all her heart that Dani's Sydney was a loyal and trustworthy man and not like his master, who apparently wanted nothing more than one night's pleasure. Manchester was more like a comet than a man. A brilliant star that would destroy anyone in his path. He had no interest in staying in Britain, and he had no scruples.

Monique shivered slightly as she remembered Manchester's arms around her. “He said he intended to come to the ruins today,” she said, “but someone hurt his horse. He thinks it may have been Lord Stammel.”

“Sydney did not say anything about it.”

“I wonder how much he knows about the marquess.”

“He says very little about him. Only that he is grateful to him.”

“Pamela is smitten with him, too,” Monique said. “And you. Even when he plays the buffoon, he seems to draw people to him.”

“Except for Lord Stammel, and Stanhope, both of whom seem to want something from him.”

“Money, Manchester believes. But I think it might go beyond that. Stanhope was a business partner with Manchester's father. The father was accused of treason. Manchester believes Stanhope is responsible. Perhaps Stanhope feels he could be a threat to him.”

“
He
is after Stanhope, too?” Dani asked.

“So he says.”

“But how?”

“Apparently the same way I planned. Turn the three—Stanhope, Daven, and Stammel—against one another. They must know all of each other's secrets.”

“But if any one of them said anything—”

“I know,” Monique said. “They would be convicting themselves. But angry people are usually careless people.”

Dani was silent for a moment, as she often was. Then, “Are you, perhaps, getting in one another's way? We could leave London and leave it to him.”

“And forget about destroying Stanhope?” She could not do that. She had lived for that one purpose for more years than she wanted to remember. Until Stanhope was dead, she could not free herself of memories. He was a detested part of her. She was a part of him.

She suspected Manchester felt the same.

What did that make both of them?

Gabriel went to the gaming room. Still in his riding clothes, from which leaves clung, he apologized for not being present for supper. He had become lost in the maze, he said, and did not discover his way out until a short time ago.

“Mazes are quite simple,” Stammel said, baiting him. “But perhaps not for a man who cannot stay in the saddle. A stable lad said you walked the horse in.”

Gabriel smiled at him. “I had a discussion with our host about the care our horses are given. It appears there was a wound on my mount's back. As for the maze, we do not have such amusements in America. I wanted to explore it. As Lord Stanhope said, it is intricate and presented a challenge. And I am here, as you see.”

Stammel glared at him, and Gabriel wondered if he hadn't been a little too clever. Cleverness was not one of the Marquess of Manchester's attributes.

“I wondered whether you would not like to recoup some of your losses,” he said, then added, “Where is Lord Stanhope?”

“He went up to get some funds,” one of the guests said. “He did say he was tired.”

“He will probably be here soon,” Gabriel said. “I saw him with Miss Fremont. She might well be a distraction.”

Stammel's frown deepened. Still, he sat at the table. He was obviously one of those gamblers who did not understand his own limitations.

“May I join you?” Gabriel asked.

The room exploded into conversation that had momentarily quieted during the exchange between Stammel and Gabriel.

“If you wish,” Stammel said curtly.

Gabriel found himself a chair, loosened his cravat, and was soon engaged in a game of whist. As the betting increased, he fixed his gaze on Stammel. “I hope you can pay this time,” he said quietly.

The table went still. “Are you impugning my integrity?”

“I would never do that,” Gabriel replied easily. “I just want to understand the British rules. I am, as you so often point out, a simple man from America.”

“You will have the money when Lord Stanhope returns,” Stammel said.

Gabriel nodded. “Let us begin then.”

An hour later Gabriel had consumed several glasses of brandy and lost fifty pounds to one man at the table. Stammel had lost only twenty-five. His luck was so good that it overtook his lack of skill.

“Another game?” asked David Morgan. Gabriel had memorized the guest list and knew Morgan was one of the few men present without a title. He was Welsh but apparently influential with the government.

“You might ask him to show his blunt,” Stammel said meanly.

It was exactly what Gabriel wanted.

“Not necessary,” Morgan said. “Manchester is a guest, and a friend of Stanhope.”

“Ah, but if Stammel has a question, I have banknotes in my room and Stanhope has some of my funds in his safe.” Gabriel put his quizzing glass in his left eye and rose. “I wonder what is keeping him,” he said.

Gabriel wove on his way to the door. In truth, he'd had more brandy than he wanted; for appearances' sake he'd kept pace with his companions.

Once out the door he maintained his pose, went to his room, and rummaged through several drawers in his wardrobe, then went to Stanhope's room. He knocked. When no one answered, he opened the door.

Still dressed, Stanhope was snoring on the bed.

Whatever Dani had managed to put in his wine had worked well. He smiled at her audacity.

He left, gently closing the door behind him.

He made his way down the grand staircase and burst into the game room. “My money is gone,” he said. “There is a thief here.”

The manor was in an uproar. At his words the men in the gaming room dispersed, some seeking their wives in the music room, some retiring immediately to check their rooms.

In minutes he heard several cries of outrage and demands to have property returned. One well-dressed woman was in tears.

Everyone wanted to know where Stanhope was.

The butler and valet knocked at his door as five or six men stood outside his bedroom. Hearing nothing, they went inside, then returned, spreading out their hands helplessly.

Stammel had disappeared with the rest but had not reappeared. Gabriel wondered whether he had looked to see whether any of his own valuables were missing. And found that cache of jewels planted in his room?

Gabriel went inside Stanhope's bedroom. He lay across the bed. Gabriel took the pitcher of water from a table and poured a little on Stanhope's face. No movement. He shook him. The man worked slowly, his eyes opening slightly, then fluttering closed again. Gabriel shook him again, and Stanhope moaned, opened his eyes again, and tried to focus.

“Wha' is …” His words were slurred.

Gabriel looked toward the door, where the valet and butler stood like pieces of marble. “Get some hot tea,” he said.

“My lord,” Gabriel said. “There have been some thefts.”

“My head …”

“You must have drank too much wine, my lord,” Gabriel said, lacing his words with concern. “Is there anything I can get you?”

“To—morrow …”

“Money is missing, my lord, along with jewels. You must act or someone will go to the constable. I do not think you would want that.”

Stanhope tried to rise, obviously tried to comprehend what Gabriel was saying. “A … thief?”

“Five people have been robbed, including myself,” Gabriel said. “You should check your own … possessions. You said there was a safe.”

The latter words made an impact at last.

Stanhope struggled to sit up. His coat was wrinkled, his cravat awry. He looked nothing like the usually well-groomed earl.

He blinked in the light from the oil lamp. “What in the hell are you talking about, Manchester?”

“I have been robbed of a hundred pounds and a diamond cravat pin. Surely you have seen it on me. Others say they are missing items as well.”

Stanhope shook his head, then stood. “My head. I did not drink that … much wine.”

Gabriel arched an eyebrow. “Should I send someone for a constable?”

“No, no. I will see to it. I will compensate any … losses. It must be a servant. I will ask George, my butler, to conduct a search. I … we will find the culprit.”

Gabriel looked around, then leaned toward Stanhope. “Perhaps if you called the constable, we should tell him about the burr planted under my saddle.” He feigned sudden enlightenment. “Perhaps the two incidents are connected.”

Stanhope stiffened. “Are you accusing Lord Stammel?”

“Oh, no,” Gabriel said hurriedly. “I was just remarking on the coincidence.”

Stanhope's dark eyes glittered with anger. Gabriel was not sure whether it was aimed at him or at someone else.

Gabriel stood. “Perhaps the butler can reassure the guests,” he said. “I will ride for the constable if you wish.”

“No!” The word was like a crack of a whip. The man was becoming fully awake now.

“Tell everyone to go to bed. I will have James conduct a search of all the servants' quarters and question them. I am sure that we will find the culprit there.”

Gabriel shrugged. “But if …”

“I will make sure everything missing is replaced. There is no reason to spread gossip about,” Stanhope interrupted sharply. “I hope you will respect my wishes. Tell James and my valet to attend me.”

“As you wish,” he said and backed out, informing the butler and valet to enter.

The gathered guests looked at him.

He shrugged. “Lord Stanhope says he will discover the thief. He recommended that we all retire for the night. I, for one, plan to do just that. But first I will need some brandy.”