Lady Beware (31 page)

“Or get it into a dress,” Van pointed out. “There might be some line of inquiry there.”

“But not yet,” the duchess said. “Darien, I fear it is necessary for you to return to Hanover Square. Your absence could be seen as guilt or flight.”

“It could be dangerous,” Thea protested.

“Your father and Vandeimen will go with him and take the coach, and I would hope the magistrates will have matters in hand by now.”

If the duke looked wry, he obeyed his orders, but Thea rose, too, and came to Darien.

“I'm so sorry this has happened,” she said, offering her hands without hesitation. “Take care.”

He wished she'd stayed aloof, but he took her hands. As she'd ignored their audience, he did, too, and kissed each. “Your belief in me means a great deal.”

Her features relaxed a little—disastrously. Her lips quivered until she bit them. He bowed and left before she broke. That would break him.

T
he arrival of the Duke of Yeovil's carriage in Hanover Square, complete with liveried servants, provided new excitement for the throng.

Soldiers were preventing people from entering the railed garden, but the circumference was lined with gawkers. More were gathered around the bloody footsteps and threshold like ants around jam spots. Others simply hung around in chattering groups waiting for the next excitement.

Darien's emergence from the grand coach raised a cry. Someone shouted, “That's the Cave! He's already under arrest!”

The duke simply stared around, and silence slowly settled.

“Viscount Darien is not under arrest,” he said, clearly, but making no attempt to shout. “We are here to discover the truth of this tasteless prank.”

Darien admired his simple dignity, and it had a general effect. Those who had not heard what he'd said received it murmured back through the crowd. There was no more shouting but the air was almost electrical.

Two men came out of the gardens and approached—a military officer and a burly gentleman in civilian dress. They turned out to be Lieutenant Waring of the Horse Guards and Mr. Evesham, the magistrate.

“Glad to have some assistance here, Your Grace,” Evesham said. “Nasty business, and they're all out for blood, but there's not really a crime, see? Not even a bylaw against killing a pig here, and nothing about being careless with the blood. But this lot”—he tilted his head toward the ear-stretched crowd—“I was afraid they'd string Viscount Darien up if he came here unprotected. Why I sent for the military.”

He turned, and despite what he'd said, Darien could tell he thought he should arrest him for something. “What we need to do to pacify them, my lord, is search your house, if you'd be so kind as to give permission. Your staff won't open up.”

“On my orders. But I have no objection to an orderly investigation. Perhaps we can call upon a couple of the more worthy people from the onlookers, and if the duke and Captain Waring were part of it, all would be satisfied.”

The magistrate turned and pointed to two men, both well dressed and sober. They turned out to be a Mr. Hobbs, a shoemaker, and Mr. Linlithgow, a banker's clerk.

Evesham bellowed out what was going on. He added a request that all go about their business, but no one took the suggestion. Everyone waited expectantly for the search party to report.

Evesham stood by Darien's side and Darien was glad of Van's presence. The magistrate and the crowd resembled well-trained guard dogs—quiet, but ready to tear him to bits if he tried to make a run for it.

In about fifteen minutes, the four men returned and reported, and Evesham bellowed it.

“There is no sign of blood in Cave House, nor any sign of disorder or violence, and certainly no additional corpse. This has been idle and wicked mischief, and if the perpetrator is found, he will be punished. Now go about the Lord's Day or I'll have you dispersed by force.”

That did cause a shift, and slowly people began to go back into their houses or out of the square.

Darien went with the duke and Van into the garden to see the victim of violence. The blue dress was disconcerting, but the corpse was simply a pig, throat cut, and already a feast for flies.

“Quite young,” Darien said.

“Not even a year,” the duke agreed.

“Easier to handle,” Van pointed out. “What do you think? Fifty pounds? A man could carry it without too much trouble, but as Maria said, it'd squeal.”

“Drugged?” Darien suggested.

“There's a thought,” Van agreed. “At least it would die happy….”

The magistrate broke in, seeming annoyed by the practical discussion. “But what are we to do with it, my lord?” he asked Darien.

“It's nothing to do with me, sir, but I'll pay for it to be butchered and distributed charitably.” He moderated his tone. No point making another enemy. “Thank you for your excellent handling of this, Evesham. It could have turned destructive.”

The magistrate warmed. “Indeed it could, my lord. And I'm pleased to see you cleared. These notorious crimes do linger, however.”

It was a warning, but as the man went to make arrangements for the disposal of the pig, Darien wondered what he was supposed to do with it. He turned toward his house. “I'd be glad never to enter the place again, but I don't run away.”

“You could remove that damned dog from over the door,” Van said.

“It's carved in rock.”

“Have it hammered off.”

“So simple,” Darien said with a sharp laugh. “Very well, but not right now. Anything I do immediately will be seen as uneasy conscience.”

“Then let's get back to my place and sort this all out.”

“Just give me a moment to talk to my staff.”

Darien found the Prussocks in the kitchen, drinking tea that clearly had brandy in it. He supposed they were entitled to it. “Where's Lovegrove?” he asked.

“Left, milord,” Mrs. Prussock said with a tight smirk. “Couldn't take the strain, he said. Took the silver standish from the office, milord, and I don't know what else.”

“You couldn't stop him?”

“We were a bit at sixes and sevens, sir.”

Darien reined in his temper. “Thank you for following orders. I'll be out for a while. Needless to say, continue your vigilance. No one is to enter.”

Could Lovegrove have staged the drama as concealment for thievery? It seemed unlikely for such a weak sot of a man.

Darien went quickly up to his room. Nothing obviously missing there, but when he went down to the office, indeed the silver standish was gone. He kept his cash on hand, jewelry, and important documents in a safe here, which was concealed behind one set of shelves. Lovegrove shouldn't even have known about it. Darien himself hadn't until his solicitor had informed him. There were only two keys. He kept one on his person and his solicitor had the other.

He swung the section of shelving open, unlocked the metal door, and found, as expected, nothing disturbed. It had been a wild idea, anyway. He knew enough of chronic drunkards to recognize a genuine one, and they weren't up to complicated planning. He really wouldn't have thought the valet a petty thief, though, either. A coward, yes, but not that sort of thief. Brandy, now.

He was sure the Prussocks had used the valet's flight as excuse for more thievery. Simply fire them or call in the Runners to investigate their crimes? That would certainly have to wait another day.

But he decided not to abandon the place. He told Van, and then settled to study the neglected inventories. At least this meant he could avoid Thea.

With Foxstall out there somewhere and this insane prankster up to mischief, the farther away she was and remained, the better.

He didn't make much headway with the records because of constant invasions. It seemed that every man he'd developed good terms with came by to show support. The crowding reduced him to laughter at one point, especially when St. Raven ruthlessly removed all the Holland covers from the drawing room and demanded tea. When it arrived, Prussock's hair looked as if it was standing on end.

If Marcus's damned spirit truly did linger here, by midnight, when the last guests departed, his hair would be on end, too.

After all that, Darien wasn't entirely surprised to return from his ride the next morning to find the Prussocks gone. With, of course, some other bits and pieces of value. He returned to the stables to talk to Nid.

“Don't go to the house in the morning, sir. Take me breakfast here with some of the other grooms. Well I never, but I'm not surprised. A peculiar lot.” He scratched his nose for a moment. “Don't like to cast suspicion, sir, but I did get a glimpse of Prussock two nights since. Thought he had a woman, I did, which surprised me and that's no lie. But now I'm wondering if it was a pig, see?”

“A pig? It was Prussock…? But why? I've been more tolerant than they deserve.”

“Ah, but they were none too happy having you there at all, see? Had a nice little spot, all to themselves, and with the place's reputation and all, they thought to have it for a nice long time. So I think they've been trying to scare you away. I suppose I should have said something, but I never dreamed it'd come to this.”

“Nor I. They've been stealing from the house, too. Living like lords when they had the chance, I've no doubt. It'll have to be the Runners, but they're probably crafty enough to be far away by now.”

“You'll be right there, sir. Do you want me to help out? Cook or something?”

Darien remembered Nid's attempts at cooking in the army. “No, but here's some money to get yourself food from a chophouse. I'll see about hiring new people, though the pig's put the house's reputation back a bit.”

He returned to the house and checked for losses. Any remaining silver had gone, plus some smaller vases and even a pair of brocade curtains from the drawing room. Then he found the safe had been broken open.

He cursed his own stupidity. He'd suspected the Prussocks, so why hadn't he been on guard? Yesterday, one of them must have followed him as he checked the house. Most safes got their security from being unknown. A short time and brute strength and they were vulnerable. He sent Nid for a Bow Street Runner but didn't think much of his chances of getting his property back.

He stood in the hall, testing the feel of the truly empty house. Not even a ghost, yet it still felt foul. What was he to do with it?

He was tempted to move in with Van, and lack of servants would provide an excuse, but he'd stick it out for a day or two, until the latest furor calmed.

But he wasn't going to attempt to make this his home.

“A
message for you, milady.”

Thea looked up from breakfast, which she'd only picked at. Her spirits weren't low, not after the way Darien had taken farewell of her yesterday. But she was completely focused on overcoming all obstacles.

All the trouble at Cave House was now explained as mischief by Darien's servants, and that was being spread around Town by all possible means. She'd suggested that he be invited to move in here and had an hour's delicious anticipation until his reply had been received—a polite refusal.

She'd even found herself fretting about his care and housekeeping, but he could invite himself to eat at any one of a dozen houses, and an army man could live simply if he must.

So all in all, things weren't so bad. She simply needed a private, unhurried moment in which to convince him that she loved him and must marry him.

A glance had shown her that the letter was from Maddy, tempting her not to read it at all, but she snapped the seal. Inside, the writing was cramped and Maddy's pen must have been atrocious, for the ink went rapidly from dark to pale and there were ink-blots all over the page. She struggled to read the letter, frowning.

Was that a teardrop? Maddy!

No clothes! Thea gasped, trying to comprehend.

Yes, she knew Darien had been angry with Maddy, but she also knew he wouldn't hurt her.

Yet, she had seen him when that punishing rage consumed him. He'd not behave like that with a woman, she was sure of that, but he might do something to frighten Maddy so she wouldn't reveal what had happened at the Harroving masquerade. Nothing truly terrible—no clothes?—but enough to cast his reputation on the dung heap if discovered.

She rubbed a hand over her face, glad Harriet had returned to the servants' area.

One thing was sure. She must get Maddy out of his house before she was discovered there, half naked and in a wild state. She read through the rest of the letter, struggling at times with the scrawl.

Thea sat there, her mind in a fog. Was that the truth of the missing servants? But—she reread to check—Maddy said she'd gone there of her own accord, so how could Darien have planned this? Typical of Maddy. Muddle and exaggeration. Darien would have done no more than scare her….

She'd achieve nothing sitting here like a ninny. She ran into her dressing room, wondering what of hers would fit Maddy. None of her shifts or corsets. She hunted through drawers and the armoire until she found a loosely cut dress with a drawstring waist. She added a full-length cloak and a pair of slippers. That would have to do.

She bundled it all up, then paused. Should she tell her mother? It would be wiser, but the fewer people who knew, the better.

What if he had lost his temper and gone too far…?

No, she wouldn't believe that.

She brushed away tears and put on a simple cloak herself. She was about to test Darien's suggestion of a way to leave her house secretly. She went downstairs, praying she not meet anyone who felt able to question her. She slipped into the Garden Room and through the doors into the gardens.

The mystery was the entrance from the stables, but when she walked through the winding paths and clever hedges designed to create the impression of a much larger space, she found the high wall that was part of the stables. In the wall was a door. She tried the handle, and the door opened. So simple. Cobwebs, indeed, but there could be a roomful of people beyond.

She was Lady Theodosia Debenham, she reminded herself. If she wanted to wander to the stables this way, who could object?

The room beyond the door was empty of people, though full of a bewildering amount of wood and leather, all doubtless to do with the carriages. She heard voices, but none nearby. A window showed her where she wanted to go, and when she peered into the corridor, she saw an open door to the lane.

In moments, she was walking away from her house, alone in London for the first time.

Before emerging onto the street, she pulled up her hood and then hurried in search of a hackney stand. She felt sure the driver knew she was a young lady who shouldn't be out alone, but he took her shilling without comment and soon deposited her by the side of St. George's church.

She walked from there, entering the square cautiously. She saw no sign that anything was amiss. In fact, Hanover Square looked too ordinary and orderly. A cloaked woman carrying a bundle might attract attention. She had no choice, however, so she walked at a steady pace up to Darien's house. When she mounted the steps, the nasty black dog seemed to be snarling directly at her.

Her feet froze in place. Until this moment, it hadn't crossed her mind that Darien could harm
her
.

And he couldn't. If she didn't believe that, her world lay in ruins. In fact, Maddy would have exaggerated the whole thing. She continued to the door, turned the knob, and, as promised, it opened.

She went into the house, eyes and ears on full alert. She didn't think she'd ever entered an empty house before. There were always servants, even if the family was away. Of course Maddy was here somewhere, but the hair was rising on the back of her neck, as if evil spirits were around.

“Maddy?” she whispered, closing the door behind her, feeling worse when daylight was blocked.

Only silence. For the first time she wondered if this was a trick. Maddy wouldn't.

Would she? If it was a trick, Thea couldn't imagine how to do anything to her cousin that was sufficiently painful.

“Maddy,” she called more loudly.

“In here.” It was a terrified squeak from the parlor to her left. Thea's heart immediately raced, and mentally apologizing, she ran in.

A hand covered her mouth and a strong arm encircled her.

A man. A big man.

Not Darien.

In the mirror across the room, she caught a flash of blue and silver, but then a hood was dropped over her head, blinding her.

A hussar uniform. Foxstall!

New terror beat. But Maddy. Surely Maddy wouldn't have…

Instantly, Thea realized Maddy hadn't. Her cousin hadn't written that letter. She wasn't even here. She'd been lured here by Foxstall alone. By Foxstall seeking his revenge.

She struggled wildly, but the big hand came around her throat and squeezed. She clawed at it but couldn't find breath. As darkness closed in on her, she knew this was to be Foxstall's revenge on Darien as well as on her.

Another murdered lady, and this time actually in Cave House.