The Vanishing Thief (12 page)

“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

B
Y
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?”

“I thought I'd managed to slip that mistake by you. But it's a fair question.”

“I'd like a fair answer.” I held his gaze and my breath.

“I'd rather purchase Drake's stolen papers and his silence so I can be certain no prying eyes read them than have the Archivist Society sort through them with their love of musty documents.”

“We are very discreet.” A thought struck me. “Unless you plan to abduct him to force him into a sale.”

“No. Whatever his price, I can meet it without resorting to coercion or breaking the law. Miss Fenchurch, aren't there things you'd rather nobody knew, even if those who knew were discretion itself?”

I couldn't help smiling ruefully at his answer. We all had secrets we hide from the world and those closest to us. He held my gaze as I rose and then he strode over and opened the door for me. “If you decide to help us, we'll be glad of your assistance,” I said as I walked up to him.

“Never, Miss Fenchurch.” But he smiled in return.

“May I ask another favor, Your Grace?”