India Black and the Rajah's Ruby (6 page)

***

A few weeks after I returned to London, Mother Moore knocked on my bedroom door and thrust it open without waiting for my permission. She always does that, being of the opinion that whores are not entitled to any privacy, a sound policy which I have followed at my own house.

“Mr. Barrett is here,” she announced.

This was astonishing news. I’d covered Philip’s absence from Mother Moore’s brothel with the invention of a trip abroad for commercial purposes. I hadn’t expected the bloke to turn up here again, not after slinking away from White’s house in the middle of the night, leaving yours truly to face the music. My first inclination was to refuse to see him. Then I thought I might go downstairs just for the pleasure of planting my foot in his arse. But curiosity got the better of me, as it usually does, and I smartened myself up and trundled down the steps just to hear what the chap had to say for himself.

He was pacing a hole in the parlour floor, chewing his lip, when I walked in. Lord, but he was handsome when he was fretful.

“Hello, Philip.”

He gave a weak and anxious smile. “At least you’re still speaking to me. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had told me to go away and never come back here. I owe you an apology, India.”

“Damned right you do.”

He held out a hand, which I did not take. After a moment, he let it fall to his side. “Will you at least sit down with me and let me explain what happened?”

I sat down with a great show of reluctance, though I was dying to hear Philip’s story. I had a pretty good idea of what had transpired, but I was anxious to see if I’d been correct.

He joined me on the sofa, looking apprehensive. “I suppose I should start from the beginning.” He plucked at the crease in his trouser leg.

“Go on,” I said.

He swallowed. “Well, the truth is that I am not a partner in a commercial firm. The closest I’ve come to dabbling in commerce is cracking the odd bank safe from time to time.”

“I see.”

He took my hand and this time I did not protest. “Of course I don’t go around babbling that to all and sundry. When I met you, I just preserved the fiction. It’s easier that way, inhabiting one role with everyone you know. Less chance you’ll slip up and be caught.” He caressed the palm of my hand with his fingertips. “It’s a lonely life, India, living a lie, hiding the truth from people. You grow so accustomed to keeping people at arm’s length that you fail to recognize a kindred soul.” He gazed at me earnestly. Damnation, but he was good at this.

“I should have told you the truth when we met,” he said.

“I don’t see why you should. The truth is a valuable commodity. You never know when someone might use it to your disadvantage.”

“You wouldn’t have.”

Poor man. If he believed that, he was a terrible judge of character.

Philip edged closer to me and put an arm around my shoulders. “You know I care for you, India. The more I became acquainted with you, the more certain I was that you wouldn’t give a toss whether I was a merchant or a thief or a bloody bishop. I thought more than once of taking you into my confidence before we went to White’s house, but I didn’t. I wanted you to be completely ignorant of the situation in the event something went wrong. It was for your protection that I withheld the truth. As it turns out, I’m glad I didn’t tell you that I was there to steal the jewel, for if I had told you the truth you’d surely be in gaol right now.”

“I’m surprised you’re not. Ashton was kind enough to point out that you must have been the thief as you disappeared during dinner. You then proved his theory by scuttling away from there.”

“Bloody Ashton. The minute he walked in the room I knew my plans were spiked.”

“I knew you recognized each other when you met. Who is Ashton?”

Philip smiled bleakly. “The second best jewel thief in Britain.”

I rose and fetched us each a glass of whisky. “Why don’t you tell me what happened down there. Or, what was supposed to happen.”

Philip accepted the glass and patted the sofa. I sat next to him and leaned into his embrace, just to show him there were no hard feelings. I must have been convincing, as he sighed with contentment. “The last few weeks have been hell, India. White set the hounds on me and I’ve been running ever since.”

“From the beginning, Philip.”

“Right. Well, you know that I intended to steal the Rajah’s Ruby. It should have been a simple enough job. All I needed was a diversion—” And here he stole a glance at me, as clearly I had been intended as such, but my gaze didn’t falter and, reassured by my docility, he continued. “After we’d persuaded White of our bona fides, I planned to crack the safe on Saturday night, hide the ruby in my case and we’d have left the next day with no one the wiser. But when I saw Ashton, I knew I had to snaffle the ruby that night or risk losing it.”

“Well, even if Ashton foiled your original plan, the important thing is that you succeeded. Tell me, what kind of price did you get for the jewel?”

He stiffened. “I don’t have the bloody thing. Didn’t you know?”

I sat up. “What do you mean, you don’t have it? Where is it?”

“I reckon Ashton has already flogged it.”

“You mean
he
stole the jewel from White?”

“No, I stole the jewel from White. Ashton stole it from
me
.”

I shook my head. “Talk sense, Philip.”

“I told you that when I saw Ashton there I knew I’d have to move quickly. So I came down with a case of dyspepsia and hightailed it up to White’s room before dinner. I had a deuce of a time with the combination but I finally cracked it and nipped off with the jewel. I tucked it away in my kit and came back downstairs, blowing and sweating like a racehorse, but I fancy that just convinced everyone I’d had a sticky time and no one would be impolite enough to question my appearance. When the maid told me you wanted me, I came to your room but I didn’t want to linger, not with Ashton swanning about the place. I checked my case when I returned to my room and the bloody thing had disappeared!”

“Ashton?”

“Too bloody right. He must have known I’d stolen the jewel while I was off playing sick and he waited until I went to your room to whisk in and take the thing for himself.”

I shivered. “What if you hadn’t come to my room? What if you had stayed in yours?”

Philip looked grim. “He’d have found a way to get his hands on the wretched stone. He might have knocked me out or ambushed us on the train or even followed us to London. But I made it easy for him.” He scrubbed his face with his free hand. “God, I hope this doesn’t get out. I’ll be a laughingstock if anyone learns I’ve been done out of a score by Ashton.”

“Poor fellow,” I said, and I meant it. He’d been outfoxed and his pride had taken a dreadful blow. Just as mine had done when I discovered that I’d been duped by him.

“You’re awfully nice, India, considering I left you high and dry. I’m most dreadfully sorry about that, but I had to get out of there. I couldn’t be sure that White wouldn’t discover the theft, or that Ashton wouldn’t ask to see the jewel again just so White would find the jewel missing. I figured that part of Ashton’s plan to cover his tracks was to blame me for the theft and urge White to call the police. I’d have been first on the list of suspects. I’ve had a few run-ins with the bluebottles over the years and a wire to London would have uncovered me pretty quickly. I knew you had the wit to extricate yourself from the mess and get back here unscathed, especially since you had no knowledge of my plans. You could act innocent because you
were
innocent.”

He gave me the indolent smile I loved. “And I was right, wasn’t I? Here you are safe and sound, back at Mother Moore’s.” The smile faded. “It’s not quite the same for me, India. I’ve got to keep my head below the parapet for a while. I’m going abroad until the whole affair dies down.”

I must have started involuntarily, for he squeezed me tightly. “I’m sorry to have to leave you again, India, but I must. It won’t be for long. In a year or two, I’ll be able to come back and we’ll start again. I trust you’ll forgive me.”

I clutched his arm. “Of course I will. What did you think? That I care a fig about White and his ruby? He’s got too much money as it is. And it’ll be a frosty day in Hades before I’d say anything to the police. It’s not as though I’m lily-white, you know. On the social ladder, a jewel thief is several rungs up from a tart.”

Philip laughed. “I knew you were a trooper, India. I’m only sorry I didn’t take you into my confidence.” Too bloody right, I thought. You certainly should have.

“We might have pulled this off together.”

“We’d have made a formidable team, Philip.”

He gave me a rueful smile. “Next time, India. And there will be a next time, I can assure you. Just as soon as the boys in blue give up on me and I can come back to England.” He cupped his hand under my chin and tilted my face to his for a lingering kiss. “I’ll be back. I promise you.”

I’ll be hanged if I didn’t have a lump in my throat. My gaze lingered on his golden hair and those glittering hazel eyes. I’d miss the bastard, even if he had run out on me. I told him so, and he smiled again and held me close. Then he rose slowly and pulled me up after him and we shared a last embrace.

I followed him to the top of the stairs and watched my handsome fellow striding down the steps. Mother Moore hovered at the foot of the stairwell and cast an enguiring glance at Philip as he passed her. He shook his head, an almost imperceptible movement, and a shadow of disappointment crossed Mother Moore’s face. She glanced involuntarily up the stairs and when she saw me there, she pursed her lips and disappeared into the parlour.

Treacherous old bag. I’d known all along that she had given me the week off too easily.

***

One year later, I dropped into Mother Moore’s room and gave her my notice.

“You’re leaving me? Where are you going?” Her eyes narrowed. “I’ll bet that cow Mrs. Kensinger has been at you. So you’re going to her, are you? Well, good luck to you.” She sniffed loudly. “Ungrateful wench. Don’t you even think about coming back here when things don’t work out.”

I should have held my tongue, but I knew the word would be out on the street before long and I saw no harm in sharing the news first with Mother Moore.

“I’m opening my own house.”

“What? How? Where’d you get the money? Have you been stealing from me?”

“I haven’t stolen from you.” I said truthfully, for I had been entitled to every shilling I’d taken from the old trout. “I’ve found a benefactor. A rich American.”

Well, that flummoxed her, as I knew it would. “We don’t have any American customers. How’d you meet him?”

I waved a hand airily. “The details aren’t important. I’ve packed my bags and I’ll be out of the house today.”

I left her gawping after me, hands fluttering about her bosom as she tried to work out just when and where I’d met my patron. The last thing I heard as I went out the door was Mother Moore’s shrill voice, informing me that I’d be back soon and then we’d see who was a cheeky bitch.

I smiled all the way to Bond Bros. Bank, where a deferential gentleman was pleased to lead me to a private room and open a safe deposit box in the name of Miss India Black. He bowed himself out and I extracted a leather drawstring pouch from the box, loosening the ties and spilling the contents onto the table. The Rajah’s Ruby winked up at me.

***

Let this be a cautionary tale for young tarts: no matter how handsome the gift horse, always check its teeth. When you’re invited along for a trip to the country and asked to play charades for the benefit of your host, you’d best keep your wits about you and suss out the truth or you’ll wind up asking the local plod for a cup of tepid tea. My suspicions had been aroused by Mother Moore’s uncharacteristic generosity in letting her best earner out of the house for a few days. I’d rumbled Ashton for a wrong ’un as soon as I saw him, and it was clear that Philip was deeply disturbed by the man’s presence. By the time Harold White proudly trotted out the Rajah’s Ruby, even a first-class dunderhead would have known something was in the cards and it wasn’t a bloody contract for tobacco. Philip’s disappearance just before dinner had convinced me that he was there to steal the ruby. He’d revealed his lack of scruples when he invited me along to help deceive White about the alleged tobacco contract. When a fellow’s casual about a small fraud, it’s not a great step to a large theft. And if I’d had any doubt about that fact, it was wiped into dust the minute I plunged my hand into his case and found the pouch containing the gemstone.

You’ve no doubt twigged how I took the jewel from Philip’s case. Before he joined me in my room, I clambered up on a chair and disabled the bellpull. When Philip came in, I put on the sick cat performance, though to tell the truth I really was feeling a tad queasy at trying to snitch the ruby from him. I knew he’d have to go down to the kitchen or up to the servants’ quarters before he found a warm body at that hour of the night. When he ventured out to find a servant to fetch my milk, I dashed next door and rifled through his belongings. I tried the obvious places first, and after drawing a blank from the pockets of his jackets and trousers and from the sock drawer and his combinations, I found the ruby in the leather drawstring pouch, tucked inside the lining of his case. I confess I was disappointed about that. I had expected more from a professional. Not an ounce of imagination in the choice of that hiding place. Under the circumstances, however, I’m glad Philip hadn’t hidden the jewel inside a secret compartment in his hairbrush, or slipped it down the front of his trousers among his own family jewels. As it was, I had barely enough time to canter back to my bedroom and pop the jewel in my bag before diving under the covers again.

What of poor Mr. White, you ask? Well, what of him? The man is as rich as Croesus and no doubt has already replaced the Rajah’s Ruby with the world’s largest emerald. Do I feel the slightest guilt at nobbling the jewel from Philip? I bloody well do not. Why should I? He’d planned to be lunching in Paris while I waltzed with the police in Ottery St. Mary. The chap may be a looker, but he’s a cool one. Still, I tend to grow nostalgic when I think about his golden hair and the way his hazel eyes reflected the flames in the fireplace. Had he been a bit less greedy and cut me in from the start, we might indeed have made a dandy team. As it is, I still have a tender spot for the fellow, for he turned out to be the sort of tearaway I generally like. Perhaps we’ll meet again someday, and we’ll dally as we did in the old days. But you can be sure I’ll never tell him that I was the one who spirited away the jewel from under his nose, nor of the splendid price the ruby fetched. And now it’s time for a bottle of champagne. Just to show I’ve no hard feelings, I’ll offer a silent toast to the gentleman thief who dropped the Rajah’s Ruby into my lap. And that, my dears, is the story of how I acquired Lotus House.