A Stolen Season (6 page)

“And an admirer, if Lord Earnston’s besotted gaze is anything to go by.” Richard elbowed her. “Don’t worry, rumor has it Lord Earnston isn’t interested in Lady Patricia.”

“Gossiping already. How vulgar.”

Richard laughed. “Vulgar, maybe. Amusing, yes.” Richard pulled her toward a group of chairs and sat. “Lord Earnston is unattached and looks to be for some time. And while you were dancing with his lordship, I snuck out and had a look about.”

“Did you find anything?” Sarah asked, unable to disguise the hope in her voice.

“Lady Cottlestone’s collection seems to sway toward furniture — pianos and pianofortes to be precise. She has hardly any trinkets at all.” Richard sighed. “Keep with the plan. We’ll be home before you know it.”

Sarah nodded, trying to keep the disappointment from her face. Keep with the plan. Simple enough, or perhaps not. Not when every time she was beside the delicious Lord Earnston, she had an overwhelming urge to beg his forgiveness and throw herself against him. Such specimens of men shouldn’t be allowed in history. It didn’t make a twenty-first century time traveling archaeologist’s job at all easy.

And judging by the heated gaze from his lordship at this moment, he would be an easy conquest.

Sarah sculled the last of her champagne. What a conundrum.

The Bow Street Runner flipped through his notepad, his pasty face pinched in serious contemplation. Eric wondered if he’d have been better off doing the job himself. The runner, for all his contacts, hadn’t produced one ounce of information worth Eric’s trouble.

“Lord Earnston, thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

Eric nodded. “From the missive I received, am I to believe you have procured a lead into my brother’s death?”

“I have, my lord. A most promising one.” The runner stopped on a page. “Last evening at the Cottlestone Ball, I was informed items in her ladyship’s parlor were moved about and not returned to their original positions. Also, papers on her writing desk had been shifted. This, of course would not normally raise concerns, but as the room was off limits to guests, I thought it best to bring this to your attention.”

Eric sat forward and frowned. “Lady Cottlestone notified you of this?” Blood raced through his veins at the possibility the culprit was finally back in town among them.

“I received a note this morning. I hope that was suitable, my lord. You did instruct your closest acquaintances to be mindful of anything out of the ordinary.”

“Yes, that’s fine.” Eric tapped his fingers against his desk. “Could not a maid cleaning up have done this?”

“That was a possibility, but her ladyship asked the staff who service those apartments, and all said they had not been into the room since yesterday morning.”

“Hmm.” Eric stood and walked to the window overlooking Belgrave Square. “No one saw anyone lurking or acting oddly?”

The runner shook his head. “No. The staff was so busy with the ball, they didn’t notice anyone out of the ordinary. But, if I may say so, my lord, it seems our killer is back in town.”

Eric nodded, his attention on the unsuspecting populace outside his library window. “So it would seem,” he said. “Now all we have to do is catch the bastards.”

“We will. Sooner or later they’ll make a mistake, and this time, we’ll be ready. You have my word on that, my lord.”

Eric walked back to the desk and stood beside it. “And I’ll hold you to your word, Mr. Simms.”

The runner’s swallow was almost audible. “Excellent.” He stood. “I’ll leave you now and update you when I have further news.”

“Good day to you, sir.” He watched the short man scuttle off in haste, then pulled open his desk drawer and lifted out the strange artifact.

He ran his fingers over the smooth metal casing. What was it? He had no idea, but whoever wanted it was back to collect. A smile quirked his lips. They would not have the chance to disappear again. His aim would be better this time.

Deadly accurate in fact.

• • •

Sarah walked in to the breakfast parlor where a vast amount of food waited upon the sideboard. Ham, pheasant, eggs, toast, and chocolate, lovingly set out for them to choose. Sarah spooned some eggs on her plate and sat at the table.

No sooner had she taken her first bite of the fluffy eggs than Richard rushed in. She smiled at his ruffled hair and his haphazard attempt at tying a cravat so early in the morning. “You look perky this morning, Richard.”

Richard glanced at the footman, then dismissed him from the room. “If you keep using words like perky, the staff will start gossiping about you.” He gave her a pointed stare and looked over the food.

“Ah, they won’t say anything. You worry too much.” Sarah poured Richard a coffee and then proceeded to fix herself a tea.

A footman entered carrying a silver salver. “A missive has arrived for you, Miss Baxter.”

Sarah broke the seal and opened it. “Oh.”

“What is it?” Richard asked.

“Lord Earnston cannot make our ride this morning. Seems he has an appointment he forgot.”

“Oh, well, I’m sure the besotted fellow will ask you again.”

Sarah absently tapped the letter on the table. It was imperative he ask her out, if for no other reason than to obtain the device, yet she couldn’t explain the sinking feeling of disappointment or the fervent hope he would wish to see her again just because. “Well, I might head down to Bond Street then. There’s sure to be an antique or an art shop among other specialty stores in the shopping precinct. Since I have no other plans for the morning.”

“You’re saying the mapping device may have found its way into a London antique store? Bit of a stretch, don’t you think, Sarah?”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt to look.” It was possible Lord Earnston may have sold his brother’s collection. She didn’t really believe this was the case, but she couldn’t fail getting it back again.

“Your father said the earl had the device, so you’re wasting your morning. But,” Richard paused and looked out onto the street, “it’s up to you. Do you want me to have the carriage brought around for you? I won’t need it today, and it looks like a storm may be brewing.”

“No,” Sarah shook her head. “I’ll take a hackney.”

“I don’t know if that’s safe. Perhaps I should come with you.”

Sarah waved Richard’s concerns away. “I’ll be fine.”

“Take your mace then.”

“Not that I’ll need it, but if it makes you feel better … ” Thunder rumbled in the distance. Dammit, would nothing go her way today? It had started out such a lovely morning, but true to Richard’s predictions, that was deteriorating by the minute.

“It would.” Richard bit into his ham and sighed. “This is delicious.”

“The kitchen staff can certainly cook a good breakfast,” Sarah agreed, yet pushed her half-eaten meal away.

“I was starving after arriving home last night. Did you taste the awful food Lady Cottlestone had on offer at the ball?” Richard cringed. “The white soup nearly made me gag.”

Sarah laughed. “I stuck to food I recognized.”

“I should have as well,” Richard said.

• • •

Sarah changed into a modest green sprig muslin afternoon walking dress. The morning’s dry heat had turned heavy with moisture. Sarah tied her bonnet about her chin and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

She almost didn’t recognize herself. The twenty-first century woman was well and truly gone, and in her place stood a nineteenth century debutante. The dress was light and extremely flattering to her slender figure. Her dark hair was tied back with a ribbon, accentuating her cheekbones. It was like looking at an ancestor, not herself. Dismissing the image, Sarah grabbed the umbrella leaning against the armoire and headed downstairs.

Her carriage ride to Bond Street was quick, given their home wasn’t far from the shopping precinct. The bustle never grew old. Some shopkeepers stood before their stores, trying to lure customers inside. Ladies strolled along the flagstone footpaths, their maids carrying their purchases followed close behind. A lad, covered in soot, ran toward a townhouse and dropped coal down the eye in the front of the home and into the underground storage vault.

A pang of sadness pricked Sarah’s senses as she realized all these people in this special time were gone. Everyone she spoke to and observed. All long gone.

Sarah clasped the seat as the carriage rocked to a halt. She opened the door, stepped down, and paid the driver. The shops ran along an alley and bore quaint wooden frontages with hand-painted signs.

Stores of every kind were available for those who had the means to buy. Milliners, shoemakers, jewellers, tobacconists, and haberdashers all showed off their wares in the windows. Sarah couldn’t help but fall in love with the beauty.

Her first stop held an abundance of antiques and collectables. Furniture, games, glassware, and cutlery littered every available surface. If the device was here, it would be an awfully long search.

“Can I help you, my lady?”

Sarah spied the elderly shop owner peeking over a pile of books. She sauntered toward him. “Hello, yes. I collect peculiars. Do you have any to sell?”

The old man nodded. “I do. This way if you please, my lady.”

He led her toward the rear of the store to a row of glass-fronted cabinets filled with different and strange items. Thimbles, shrunken heads, gold chess pieces, and other unfamiliar items filled every space. Excitement and despair washed over her. Yes, she would be here for some time.

“Are you after anything in particular, my lady?”

Sarah looked down at the elderly gentleman and shook her head. “No, thank you.”

The store doorbell jingled and he hobbled away. Sarah turned back to the cabinets, sighed, and set about examining the items.

“Miss Baxter?”

Sarah jumped and turned to find Lord Earnston gazing at her with a quizzical brow.

Shit!

“Lord Earnston,” Sarah curtsied and watched as the earl took off his hat and ran a hand through his long, dark locks. The action held her captive. His arm flexed, showing off muscle hidden yet noticeable under his finely cut suit. Butterflies took flight in her stomach and she touched her waist to calm her nerves.

“Are you out to do some shopping?” She inwardly cringed at her pathetic question.

“I was on the street and saw you enter. Are you here alone?” Lord Earnston met her gaze, one eyebrow raised.

“Yes. Alone.” Sarah swallowed, realizing too late she should’ve brought a maid.

“You are unchaperoned?” Lord Earnston accused.

“As you see.” Sarah turned back to the cabinets, trying to ignore his presence filling the space. Better that than tell this high and mighty lord what he could do with his condescending tone. The delight of seeing him lessened with his high and mighty opinion she didn’t care to hear.

He sighed and touched her arm. “Forgive me, Miss Baxter. I was merely concerned.” He looked about and smiled. “This was my brother’s favorite store. Whenever he came up to London, his first stop was always Bond Street.”

Sarah nodded. “He liked antiques?”

“Yes, very much so. He collected peculiars in fact, and I’m gathering, since you’re standing before cabinets full of them, you may also, Miss Baxter?”

“I do, my lord. Although my interests sway to the rare and strange these days.”

“I would love to see your collection, if you would allow it?” His lordship squatted and gazed at a collection of snuffboxes.

Panic assailed Sarah and she struggled to find words. “My collection is still to be packed and shipped from Rome. I should imagine it’ll be here by the end of the Season.”

“Excellent.” His lordship summoned the storeowner and asked to examine a silver snuffbox with diamonds and etchings on its casing.

“That’s lovely, my lord. Will you buy it?” Sarah asked.

His lordship smiled and nodded. “I think so, yes.”

“So you collect as well?” Sarah held her breath for Lord Earnston’s answer. To know he collected would at least eliminate her need to scrounge through every antique store in London.

“I do. I never liked William’s hobby before, but since his death, I thought I owed it to him to continue his passion.”

Sarah walked over to a tapestry sporting warring knights and ran her hand along the woven material. “I think that’s admirable, my lord.”

“Well,” he shrugged, “it’s no bother.”

Sarah met his gaze and excitement ran along her skin. His intense study of her made it difficult to concentrate. “I’m sorry we could not ride this morning. I was looking forward to it.”

“As was I,” he said. “But an associate of mine could only meet me at that time. Would tomorrow suit?”

“Yes, of course.” Sarah smiled.

His lordship nodded and slipped his hat back on. “I should imagine you’ll be bringing your maid this time, Miss Baxter?”

Sarah laughed. “Of course. I will not forget.” She stood there for a time and watched as he completed his purchase and, with another nod, left the store. His physique automatically drew the eye and her hands itched to touch him. What a shame she could only offer him friendship. Sarah mentally shook herself.

What was she thinking? He wasn’t some hunk she had met in a nightclub. Her orders were clear: she was here to find the device and get away from Lord Earnston before he discovered her identity. She was not here to indulge her lust.

“Lady Anita Drake to see you, Miss Baxter.”

Sarah thanked the footman and placed the first edition
Pride and Prejudice
back on the library shelf. “Can you bring in some tea, please?” she said, and smiled as Anita bounded into the room, her fingers busy pulling off her gloves.

“Sarah, what news I have for you! You will never guess.” Anita flopped on to the settee and patted the chair.

Sarah laughed and sat. “Since I’m new to town, I should imagine not. Tell me what has you in such a good mood.”

“I have just come from Lord Earnston’s home. It seems, my dear, that he has had word the person believed to have caused the death of Lord William is back in London. Last eve at the Cottlestone ball, her ladyship alleged her upstairs parlor had been trifled with. That someone seemed to have been looking about.”