Andrea Kane (35 page)

“I always am, Mother.” Gently, he touched her cheek. “You know that. And I’ll be even more so this time, given what’s at stake. But Father’s right. And he’s certainly given me enough incentive, hasn’t he?” Abruptly, Ashford’s mouth thinned into a grim line. “Still, Vanley and his son are secondary. Capturing Baricci comes first. There’s a part of me that wants to wait the extra night, set him up and catch him in the act.”

“But you won’t,” Pierce countered. “Because Baricci is too smart to do his own dirty work. You know that from the past. If you stake out Vanley’s house, grab whoever exits carrying the Goya, all you’ll succeed in doing is apprehending a few lowlifes. And whether you beat them senseless or bribe them into talking, they’ll never provide Baricci’s name, because they don’t have it. Williams is the only one they’ve dealt with, and even he probably uses another name—and some form of disguise—when he hires them. No, Ashford, you’ll have to get Baricci on his own turf. But in the meantime …” A challenging look crossed Pierce’s face.

“In the meantime, I can infuriate Baricci beyond belief, snatch a valuable painting he’s doubtless salivating to own. Hell, he’ll be thinking it’s as good as his, scheming to sell it for a small fortune, when he gets word that his mysterious competitor has beaten him to it.” Ashford nodded, triumph glittering in his eyes. “You’re right, Father. I can’t think of a better way to bid my old life good-bye.”

NOELLE SHIFTED ON THE
sofa of Lord Mannering’s sitting room, watching Mary grip the folds of her uniform and stare at her as fearfully as if Noelle were a firing squad.

It didn’t take a genius to deduce that Emily Mannering’s maid was uneasy about this meeting. She’d been uneasy since Lord Mannering had introduced them, quietly telling Mary who Noelle was and what she was here to discuss. Instantly, the maid had erected a barrier, stiffly agreeing to speak with her ladyship—but for a few minutes only, as her duties would permit her no longer than that. Noelle had bitten back the impulse to blurt out,
What duties? Your mistress is no longer alive for you to serve
—
which is precisely why we need to talk.
But it would be foolish to alienate Mary before their conversation had even begun. Besides, applying pressure was not the tactic that would win her over, Ashford’s interrogation had proven that. No, this was clearly a case of catching more flies with honey.

Bearing that in mind, Noelle had diligently tried to put the nervous woman at ease, choosing the informal sitting room in which to conduct their chat, asking conversational questions about Mary’s background, and insisting that she share the pot of tea Lord Mannering had instructed one of his serving girls to fetch for Noelle.

It was twenty minutes and one cup of tea later, and Mary looked as rigid as she had when Noelle walked through the door.

So much for subtlety.

“Mary.” Noelle dispensed with the small talk, addressing the maid’s fears so they could get to the issue at hand. “I’m not here to upset you, or to tarnish your mistress’s memory. You have my word on that.”

“Forgive my impertinence, m’lady,” the nervous woman replied, perching even closer to the edge of her seat, “but then why are you here? I’ve already answered all Lord Tremlett’s questions. I have nothing more to say.” Her eyes misted over. “I wish I did know who stole the painting and killed Lady Mannering. If so, I’d be happy to help put him in Newgate. But I don’t.”

The woman wasn’t stupid, Noelle mused. Nor was she lying. Obviously, she knew nothing of the night of the crime, including the identity of her mistress’s assailant.

Unless, of course, the assailant happened to be Lady Mannering’s lover. In which case, Mary might very well know more than she realized.

It was time to implement the direct approach, to attempt the woman-to-woman technique Noelle had described to Ashford. There was no point in being coy or elusive. Either Mary would rise to the challenge, open up and relay something of significance, or she wouldn’t.

“I’m not going to insult you by lying, Mary.” Noelle plunged right into the thick of things. “I’m here to plead with you to tell me all you know, not about the robbery itself, but about any facts that might indirectly help us deduce who’s responsible for it. I’m sure you’re aware that Lord Tremlett believes you’re withholding information. He and I have discussed the matter. Frankly, it’s my opinion that the reason you refused to speak candidly to him was out of loyalty to your mistress. Am I correct?”

Mary looked uncertain, but not yet ready to relent.

“I’ve met Lady Mannering. Several times, in fact,” Noelle told her. “At parties I attended with my parents. She was a lovely, vibrant woman. Quite a bit younger than her husband, if I recall.” Noelle leaned forward. “I’m young, too, Mary. I can imagine it would be difficult to be married to someone much older than I, someone whose head was filled with business matters, and whose nights were spent poring over ledgers and finalizing details. I’d be very lonely if I were that man’s wife. So if Lady Mannering felt that way, it’s hardly a sin.”

“She was a devoted wife,” Mary said defensively.

“I’m sure she was.” Noelle’s tone became earnest. “I’m not here to judge her. I have no right to do that. All I want is to help catch the scoundrel who took her life.”

“Why?” Mary asked. “What does Lady Mannering’s death have to do with you?”

“That’s a complicated answer to supply.” Noelle’s mind was racing as she tried to discern how much to reveal. She decided to stick to the basic premise and hope it was honest enough, and yet intentionally suggestive enough, to satisfy Mary. “It’s possible that the man who did this to your mistress is someone I know; someone who—in certain ways—is very close to me, who has ingratiated himself into my life. If that’s the case, I, too, could be in danger.”

Mary startled. “Then why don’t you have this man arrested?”

“Because I have no proof. I need you to help supply it. Please, Mary. I’m frightened for my own life, as well as being distraught over the loss of Lady Mannering’s. I vow to you that I won’t tell Lord Mannering a word of our conversation. As I said, I feel for the emotional predicament your mistress was contending with in her marriage. I’m a woman myself, as are you. But she was killed, Mary. Killed. And the most important thing is for the man who took her life to be punished, locked up in a place where he can never again hurt anyone else.”

Uncertainly, Mary chewed her lip. “What is it you want to know?”

A ray of hope broke through the clouds.

“Did Lady Mannering have someone special in her life? Was there one man in particular who offered her the attention her husband was too busy to provide?” Noelle set down her teacup, gazed intently at the maid. “Can you help me, Mary? I know Lady Mannering sent the entire staff away on the night she died. Obviously, she wanted her privacy. That means she was entertaining a guest. Perhaps that guest was involved in the crime. Or, if not, maybe he was here that night, saw something that could tell us who was. Please, Mary, talk to me.”

Another ambivalent pause. “And you won’t repeat anything I say to Lord Mannering? Because I could lose my job, you know,” Mary rushed on. “As it is, his lordship is working hard to find me another household whose mistress needs an experienced lady’s maid. If he finds out the details I’ve told you, if he even suspects I was aware of her ladyship’s restlessness and didn’t speak up, he’ll not only refuse to help me, he’ll send me packing. Until the police told him, he had no idea his wife was—” She broke off, twisting her hands in her lap.

“No. I won’t breathe a word to Lord Mannering. The only person I intend to share this with is Lord Tremlett. And he’ll be discreet in his inquiries. Believe me, he’s equally as eager as I am to keep Lady Mannering’s name untarnished. He respects your master, Mary. He doesn’t want to see him more embarrassed or hurt than he already is—especially given how deeply he’s grieving. All Lord Tremlett wants—all we both want—is to apprehend Lady Mannering’s killer.”

Mary nodded, looking not only convinced but visibly relieved. “Very well. And just so you know, I do have a conscience—despite what Lord Tremlett thinks. If I believed for a minute I had information that would lead the police to Lady Mannering’s killer, I’d have spoken up; loyalty or not, consequences or not.”

“I believe you,” Noelle said quietly.

A flash of gratitude crossed Mary’s face. Anxiously, she twisted her hands in the folds of her uniform. “The truth is, I haven’t slept a wink since the murder. Over and over, I ask myself if I’m betraying my mistress more by keeping things to myself. But the problem is, I have no real facts to report. Yes, her ladyship was … romantically involved outside her marriage. But that alone means nothing. As for what she confided in me, the answer is, very little. In order to spare her husband from learning the truth, Lady Mannering was extremely guarded about what she revealed, even to me. She never mentioned her suitor’s name, nor did she invite him to visit her here—at least not unless her husband was away and the servants were gone, which wasn’t very often. But she’d talk about him once in a while, comment on the differences between him and Lord Mannering.”

“What did she say?”

“That he doted on her. That he had a seductive charm that was nonexistent in Englishmen, who were forever icy and reserved.”

“He wasn’t English?”

“No. He was from the Continent.”

“The Continent,” Noelle repeated, her heart slamming against her ribs. “Did she specify from what country?”

“No.” Mary shook her head.

“Think, Mary.” Noelle actually clasped the other woman’s hands. “What else did she say about him? Did she describe him? Show you any gifts he gave her? Mention why he was here in England or what drew them together?”

Mary’s jaw tightened in concentration. “She said he was tall, and exotically handsome.” A flush. “And attentive. If I recall, her exact phrase was that he was a man of fire and passion. She claimed that no flames burn like those born within the gentlemen that hail from the Continent. As to why he was in England or what drew them together …” A shrug. “I have no idea. But with regard to gifts …”

Tugging one of her hands free, Mary dug in her pocket, extracted a delicate pair of sapphire earrings. “I kept these for Lady Mannering. She was afraid her husband would discover them if she put them in her own jewel case. That’s how I first knew they were a gift from her suitor. That and the fact that she only dared wear them on those nights when he was expected—and when her husband was away.”

Noelle touched the fiery sapphire stones. They were small but exquisitely cut and perfectly set. “But clearly she wasn’t wearing them on the night she died.”

“No, that night she was too hurried to put on jewelry.”

“I see.” Noelle’s mind was racing. “Does anyone else know about these earrings?”

Silently, Mary shook her head.

“May I take them with me? I promise to take excellent care of them.”

“I have no use for them,” Mary said in a watery tone. “Not with my mistress gone. Go ahead—take them. I never want to see them again.”

At last. Something tangible.

Clutching the earrings tight in her palm, Noelle contemplated this new and unexpected avenue. Had the earrings been purchased in London and, if so, could their buyer be traced? Would that lead them to Baricci?

If so, that would be the first step towards proving that more than a casual affair existed between him and Lady Mannering—an allegation he would doubtless make to the police if they questioned him. It was up to Noelle and Ashford to supply a more devious motivation for Baricci’s seduction of Emily Mannering; a motivation that would show his interest in her to be centered around her Rembrandt, not her sexual charms.

“When did Lady Mannering receive these?” Noelle tried, hoping she could narrow down their hunt by securing a date—a week, even a month, when the earrings had been purchased. “Can you remember? How long ago did her suitor gift them to her?”

“A month and a half ago, I’d say. At the most, two months ago. Just a short while after they met.”

Their meeting; now that conjured up another means to an end.

“Did Lady Mannering tell you where they first met, or who introduced them?” Noelle tried, wondering if she could establish a connection between the circumstances in which Baricci sought Lady Mannering out and those in which he’d discovered she owned the Rembrandt.

Another frown of concentration. “I don’t think so. Although I had the distinct impression they met at a concert or ballet.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because she told me several times that he was immersed in a world of cultural beauty, beauty that made him appreciate the unheard melody that sang within her. She’d stare bitterly at Lord Mannering’s empty chambers and murmur about how the man in her life was connected with an expressive world too colorful and vital for a frosty Englishman like her husband to understand.”

Noelle wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “That could certainly apply to dance and music.” She gazed steadily at Mary. “On the other hand, it could also apply to art.”

Mary gasped. “Art—you mean, like paintings?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.” Noelle’s grip tightened, as if to signify how imperative it was for Mary to accurately recall every detail. “You said this suitor wasn’t here very often. How many times did he visit in all? Surely you must remember the number of occasions when the servants were sent away; possibly even the dates when this occurred.”

“It only happened four or five times. The first time we were sent off for several days. After that, it was only for overnight periods. I do remember that one of those overnight events was on a Tuesday. I know because it was my day off. Not last Tuesday, but the one before that. Then, obviously, there was the night of the robbery.” Mary shook her head in frustration. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember the exact dates of the other times.”

“But all this took place over a period of two months?”

“Yes.”

“One last question,” Noelle concluded, praying this all-important finale would yield some results. “Before you left the house on the night of the robbery, did Lady Mannering say anything, do anything, that stuck in your mind? Anything that now, knowing what I’ve told you, stands out as being significant?”