Betina Krahn (11 page)

“You … miserable … lawyer!”

“Mrs. Von Furstenberg—Beatrice—I assure you—”

“I believe I’ve had all of the ‘assurances’ I can bear from you.” She pointed to the door and her voice shook with anger. “Right now, I wouldn’t believe you if you said the sky was blue.”

His eyes narrowed and she could almost feel the effort he had to exert to contain a furious response. But a moment later he gave her a sardonic nod, and strode out.

Within minutes, Mary Kate appeared with a hooded cloak for her to wear and ushered her down the back stairs to a waiting carriage.

She was going home.

IN THE DARKENED
carriage, clutching her cloak tightly about her, she began to shiver with contained emotion. Free—she was finally free. But instead of relief, she felt anger and humiliation. They had sent Connor Barrow to talk her into a forgiving frame of mind, and when it hadn’t worked, they sent him back in to charm her into cooperating. She didn’t know what made her angrier: the fact that he’d tried to charm and seduce her to serve another’s ends or that she’d actually succumbed to it!

For a brief moment she felt a liquid surge of memory that left her body tingling and made her touch her
suddenly sensitive lips. He’d kissed her in a way she’d never been kissed before. Tenderly. Provocatively. With a clear desire to give as well as receive pleasure. And she had kissed him back with an urgency and excitement she’d never felt before. In seven years of marriage she’d never experienced anything like the deliciously sensual tumult he stirred in her body. Confusion, excitement, pleasure, longing, surrender … it had been all of that and … it had also been manipulative, right down to its devious sensual core.

She shuddered away those remnants of warmth and sensation and stuffed those memories back into the farthest, most forgotten corner of her being. Appalling. Humiliating. There was no room in her life for such weakness; the fact of her kidnapping had made that abundantly clear. There were forces in her world that would use the slightest hint of vulnerability on her part to ruin her. Despite Mrs. Brown’s and Connor Barrow’s protestations, she was far from convinced that her stay at the Oriental wasn’t the result of a broader conspiracy against her.

The more she thought about it, the more determined she became to find out if her kidnapping had indeed been the idiot whim of two incompetent “bag men” or if it had originated in something more sinister. There were ways to learn such things, she knew, and starting tomorrow morning, she was going to use every resource at her command to uncover the truth.

When she arrived in the darkened entry hall of her Fifth Avenue mansion, she was greeted with a flurry by her butler, her secretary, and her niece.

“Madam!” Richards called joyfully, rushing to flip on the electrical lights.

“Aunt Beatrice!” Priscilla rushed out of the drawing
room to hug her with an enthusiasm that would have been unthinkable only three days before. “Where have you been? Are you all right?”

“A bit shaken … otherwise, whole and sound,” she said, holding Priscilla by the shoulders and noting with surprise the anxiety in her eyes.

“Thank God!” Alice Henry wrapped an arm around Beatrice’s shoulders and squeezed. “We’ve been frantic ever since the police brought word that you were missing. What happened? Where have you been?”

“I was accosted by robbers and then abducted.”

“Robbers?” came a male voice that startled her. “Who abducted you?”

She turned to find a nice-looking young man in a gray suit standing in the drawing-room doorway. He strode toward them with a grave look of concern.

Alice explained: “This is Detective Blackwell, of the police department.”

Beatrice’s knees buckled. She was ushered instantly to a chair in the drawing room and handed a glass of sherry. She refused to let them send for a doctor or take her cloak, which she pulled tighter around her.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Priscilla knelt by her knees. “We were so worried when Detective Blackwell brought Rukart home and said you were missing.” She glanced up at the detective, then quickly lowered her eyes.

“I think we should send for a doctor,” Alice declared.

“No, truly … I’m fine.”

“Then perhaps you feel up to telling us what happened, Mrs. Von Furstenberg,” Blackwell said in carefully modulated tones, taking out a notepad and pencil. “The sooner you can give us the details, the better the chance we will have to catch the men who accosted you.
Can you describe your assailants? Was there anything distinctive about them? Have you ever seen them before?”

What could she tell them? Beatrice was so absorbed in sorting out the disgraceful and humiliating facts of the last two days, that she barely felt Priscilla seize and squeeze her hands.

“My poor aunt. Can’t this wait, Detective?”

“No, no, Priscilla, I must cooperate. I want these men found.” Beatrice gave her niece a grateful smile, then squared her shoulders and turned to the detective. “I’m afraid I can be of little help. I was coming home from my suffrage meeting, when my carriage was diverted into an alley and my driver was knocked senseless. Two men seized me and demanded my valuables. They were rough and coarse … they spoke with heavy Irish accents.” She winced as if distressed by the memory. “Beyond that … it was so dark and happened so fast …”

“I understand.” He wrote on his pad. “What happened next?”

“I heard a police whistle and the next thing I knew they were dragging me down one alley and then another. They tied my hands and put a cloth in my mouth …” She closed her eyes and prayed that whatever came out next would be believable. “I was taken somewhere … a warehouse, I believe. They put me on a bed of some sort.” She opened her eyes and looked away, scrambling to think of a few convincing details.

“They didn’t come back. By the next night, I had managed to loosen my bonds and was able to crawl out a window.” She astonished herself with how easily the story came. “I hid until it was light and I realized I was somewhere near the docks. I remember the calls of gulls and
the foul smell of old seawater … and there were sailors …” She pressed her temple. “I stumbled into a boardinghouse and I believe I must have fainted. When I awakened, the woman who ran the place was good enough to hire a cab to bring me home.”

“You mean they abducted you and just left you there?” Blackwell asked.

She nodded, then suddenly recalled something. “Wait! I seem to remember … they were arguing about … waiting for someone …” She sat straighter, her eyes widening. “There must have been someone else, someone I didn’t see.”

“Really, Detective,” Priscilla said with alarm, popping up. “This is much too horrid. My aunt has just been through a terrible ordeal …”

“Of course.” Blackwell gazed for a moment at Priscilla, then cleared his throat and put his pad away. “You’ve given me enough for a start, Mrs. Von Furstenberg. If you remember anything else, please send for me.” He glanced again at Priscilla. “I’ll come at a moment’s notice.”

“Detective,” Beatrice said with delicacy, “I would be forever grateful if you could manage to keep this inquiry confidential. I couldn’t bear for my ordeal to become a public curiosity.”

“You may count on me, ma’am.”

As he turned to go, she realized that this earnest young civil servant might be the key to unlocking the mystery of what had truly happened to her. Weighing the risks, she waited until she was halfway up the stairs and he was halfway out the front door before calling him back.

“I just remembered!” she said breathlessly. “One of
them used a word—I think perhaps a name. ‘Dipper.’” She thought about it for a moment. “Yes, I’m certain it was
Dipper.
”

“An Irishman named ‘Dipper.’” Detective Blackwell seemed pleased as he tugged the brim of his hat. “Rest well, Mrs. Von Furstenberg, Miss Henry, Miss Lucciano. These men are as good as caught.”

By the time Beatrice reached her rooms, the fatigue she had feigned earlier had become real indeed. She asked Alice to join her as she prepared for bed, and as soon as Priscilla was out of the room, she turned to her secretary.

“Tell me what has been happening here. Any inquiries from the Consolidated board? Any word from my bankers?”

“Not a peep,” Alice said, suddenly uncomfortable. “I confess … I didn’t report your disappearance to anyone at the offices.” When Beatrice just stared at her, she winced. “Well, I was afraid that if word got out that you were missing …”

“Alice, you’re a perfect genius!” Beatrice threw her arms around her secretary, nearly bowling her over. “You couldn’t possibly have handled it any better. Have I given you a raise, lately?”

“Just last week,” Alice said with a relieved smile.

“Well, put yourself down for another—I’ve got to have a bath,” she declared, heading for the bathing room.

As hot water poured into the big porcelain tub and steam curled around her in scented spirals, she stood with her eyes closed, luxuriating in the comfort and feeling grateful to be back in the security of her own home. She was suddenly so relaxed that she didn’t object when Alice removed her borrowed cloak from her shoulders.

At the sound of Alice’s gasp, she opened her eyes to
find her secretary staring at the scandalous leopard-print silk she wore underneath. Shock transformed slowly into a frown of suspicion.

“All right. Where have you
really
been?” Alice demanded.

Beatrice thought about it for a moment and it came to her.

“I’ve been learning about how the ‘other half’ lives.”

Alice’s look expressed some doubt.

“Which other half?”

Beatrice laughed.

“Men, my dear Alice.
Men.
”

“
WHAT IS IT
—what’s happened?” Jeffrey’s face was ashen as he stepped into the dim light of the butler’s pantry.

“She’s home,” Priscilla said anxiously. “She returned last night saying she’d been abducted by some men who tried to rob her.”

He blinked, taking in the news.

“That’s all? She didn’t say anything about me or us?”

When she shook her head, he groaned “Oh, thank God!”

“Nor did she mention your awful cousin, who was supposed to
find
her.”

“What does it matter how she got home? The nightmare is finally over. Look at me—I’m a wreck!” He held out his hands to show how they trembled. “I’ve hardly slept a wink in three days. Mother has noticed I’m off my feed and keeps insisting I take that hideous tonic she puts such stock in.”

“Jeffrey!”

“Well, your aunt’s none the wiser, right?” He gave a giddy laugh. “It couldn’t have turned out better.”

“It certainly could have,” she declared irritably. “You could have rescued Aunt Beatrice as we planned in the first place. Then she wouldn’t have had to endure heaven-knows-what at the hands of those vile, vicious criminals.”

“You’re
sure
she hasn’t said anything about who nabbed her?” He grew anxious again until she nodded. “Then she must not know anything. If she did, you can bet she would be lopping off heads by now. That means we’re clear!” He planted an exuberant kiss in the vicinity of her lips, then headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Priscilla asked, stunned by his abrupt departure.

“Home—to sleep for a week!”

Priscilla stood in the dimness, staring at the open door and wrestling with a disappointment she couldn’t explain. Minutes later, she hurried up the stairs behind Richards, who was carrying her aunt’s morning tray, and slipped through the door of her aunt’s suite after him. She was surprised to find Aunt Beatrice not only awake, but already dressed in her customary dark skirt and white blouse with leg-of-mutton sleeves.

“Fresh raspberries this morning, madam,” Richards said, depositing the tray on the tea table and lifting a silver lid. His professional demeanor cracked enough to permit a rare smile. “Did a bit of early shopping for Cook.”

“My favorites.” Aunt Beatrice abandoned her writing desk for the tray and melted at the sight of the berries. “Richards, you’re a treasure.”

“As are you, madam.” Richards gave a curt nod and withdrew.

“Priscilla.” Aunt Beatrice spotted her standing by the door, smiled, and beckoned her to the table. “What do you want, dear?”

“Aunt Beatrice, are you all right … really all right?” She searched her aunt’s face for signs of duress.

“I’m well enough. It was a great relief to be back in my own bed.” She developed a faraway look. “I suppose that is one of those things it is easy to take for granted: the security of your own bed and good night’s rest.”

“So, you’re really all right? They didn’t do anything horrible to you?”

“Do I look as if they did?” she said, came back to the present and busied herself pouring coffee. “It was horrible, I won’t deny it. But I made it through, and it’s over. People have to learn to endure and to persevere in life, Priscilla. Trials and difficulties come to us all, sooner or later. The real test of a person’s character is how she meets those difficulties, whether she bests her problems or is bested by them.” She softened and met Priscilla’s troubled gaze with a quizzical look as if pleasantly surprised by Priscilla’s concern.