The Deception (21 page)

I ordered some refreshment, ushered everyone into the morning room, sat on the edge of a yellow silk chair, stared at Paddy, and said expectantly, “Well?”

Paddy took a long drink of beer. His pale blue eyes were very sober. “I think I have found out why Mr. Daniel was killed,” he said.

Harry gave a sharp exclamation of surprise and excitement. I leaned even farther forward on my chair and said nothing. Paddy looked at me and began his tale.

“You were right to think that it began with the hunters, Miss Cathleen, although it was not the hunters themselves that set Mr. Daniel off.” Paddy took a sip of beer. “I talked to Farrell, the man who was after selling the horses to your da, but I learned nothing from him. I was a wee bit discouraged, but I decided to stay in the area for a while—to see if I could pick up on anything—and that is how I came to be there for the Galway races.”

My eyes narrowed as my thoughts turned inward. “We saw racing in Galway that time we bought the hunters,” I said slowly.

Paddy nodded emphatically. “So we did, girl. And this time I saw what Mr. Daniel must have seen two and a half years ago.”

He paused to take another drink of beer. The Irish all have a great sense of drama.

Harry hissed impatiently. Paddy ignored him, took another swallow, and picked up his story.

“Do you remember the horse that won the Galway Cup at those races?” he asked.

“Yes.” I rarely forget a horse, and this one had been particularly memorable. “He was a bay, with an amazingly powerful stride.”

Paddy smiled, obviously pleased with me. “God bless you, Miss Cathleen, you’re just like your da,” he said.

I smiled back at him.

“What does this bay have to do with Kate’s father’s death?” Harry demanded. He had all the English impatience with storytelling; they always want to go straight to the point.

Paddy gave him a fatherly look. “I saw him again a few weeks ago, Mr. Harry. That was when I noticed that he runs just like the bay colt that Stade won the Guineas with.” Paddy turned back to me. “As you noticed yourself, girl, it’s a very distinctive stride. You cannot mistake it. The three-year-old Stade is running this year has it as well.”

I was puzzled. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Paddy. What is the connection?”

“I did not see that myself until I started asking around.” Paddy set his empty glass down on a side table, stared for a long, thoughtful moment at his scarred old boots, then lifted his pale blue eyes to mine. “It was then that I made an interesting discovery,” he said. “I looked up the Stud Book and found that the Irish colt’s sire was a stallion named Finn MacCool. Now this Finn MacCool had been a grand runner in Ireland, but he was hurt as a four-year-old and retired to stud. It was then that his true brilliance began to come out.”

Harry and I were staring at Paddy the way the sultan in the
Arabian Nights
must have stared at Scheherazade. Paddy went on, “It seemed obvious to me that Stade’s colts must have the same bloodlines as the horse that had won the Galway Cup, so I paid a visit to the horse’s owner, Frank O’Toole, and I learned a very interesting thing.”

Paddy paused. Harry looked as if he wanted to scream, but he managed to restrain himself.

“Five years ago there was a fire in Finn MacCool’s barn,” Paddy said. “O’Toole said he and his men got all the horses out and safely turned into a paddock—or so they thought. They were too busy trying to keep the fire from spreading to check the horses for the rest of the night, and when they finally got back to the paddock the following morning they found that a part of the fence was down and the horses had gotten out. They rounded up all of the others, but Finn MacCool had disappeared.”

He paused. Significantly.

My mouth opened. “Oh my God,” I said.

Paddy nodded. “They never got him back. The general feeling in Galway is that he got trapped in a bog and sank.”

“Was Finn MacCool a dark bay?” I demanded.

Paddy nodded. “Unmarked.”

I inhaled, then said flatly, “Alcazar.”

“That is what I am thinking, Miss Cathleen. And I would wager all my earthly goods that that is what Mr. Daniel thought as well.”

Harry said in an injured voice, “I would very much appreciate it if someone would tell me what you are talking about. I realize I must be stupid, but I haven’t tumbled to it yet.”

I turned to him and said, “The Marquis of Stade has a stud named Alcazar.”

No matter what he might claim, Harry wasn’t stupid. His breath sucked in audibly as he realized what we suspected. “Good God, Kate,” he said. “Are you saying that Stade’s horse, Alcazar, is really Finn MacCool?”

“Alcazar was a very undistinguished runner,” I said. “Papa could never understand how so mediocre a horse could sire such a splendid runner as Castle Dawn, the horse that won the Guineas two years ago in record time. Since then, Alcazar has produced a number of other winners. And they are all unmarked bays, with a driving, powerful stride.”

Harry’s eyes began to glitter with excitement. “Do you think your father challenged Stade about Alcazar’s identity, and so Stade had him killed?”

“No, I don’t think that was what happened. Don’t you remember that I told you that the last words that Papa spoke were
I
didn’t think he suspected that I knew?”

“I’m thinking that Mr. Daniel would have wanted to take a private look at Alcazar before he accused anyone,” Paddy said. “Someone must have seen him.”

We sat in silence and a wave of depression swept over me. This was it, then. Papa had been killed because he had suspected Stade of stealing a successful stallion and substituting it for his own mediocre stud.

“Stade is as rich as Golden Ball,” Harry burst out. “Why would he resort to something so underhanded? He don’t need the money.”

“It is not winnings that Stade is after,” Paddy said. “I’m thinking it is the prestige of owning such a grand stud that attracted him. Stade has wanted to be admitted into the Jockey Club for years, but his membership was always rejected. With a stud like Finn MacCool, the prejudice against him would eventually crumble.”

Harry had another objection. “Then why wouldn’t he just have bought this Finn MacCool if he wanted him so badly?”

“I found out that some rich Englishman was after trying to buy the stallion,” Paddy reported. “O’Toole wouldn’t sell. Said he’d waited his whole life for a horse like that. Wouldn’t have sold him for all the rubies in India. It made the horse’s loss even worse, of course, because O’Toole ended up with neither the horse nor the money. All he had left was a few foals—one of which was the horse I saw race last month.”

An energizing burst of anger swept through me, blowing away my depression. I gritted my teeth. “Well, Stade is not going to get away with it,” I said grimly. “He killed my father, and he stole Mr. O’Toole’s horse, and I am going to make him pay.”

“That’s the spirit, Kate,” Harry said.

Paddy nodded his own agreement, but warned, “Before we can do anything, we need proof.”

I asked Paddy, “Were you able to talk to Finn MacCool’s groom?”

He smiled approvingly. “That I was, girl. And didn’t it come out that Mr. Daniel had talked to him as well?”

Harry whistled.

“The groom also told me that Finn MacCool had a small mole on the right side of his sheath,” Paddy said.

“No matter what his color or his markings might be, every horse is different,” Harry said. “The more I think about it, the more impossible it seems to me that Stade could pull off a switch like this. Alcazar’s grooms would know if another horse was substituted for him. Grooms always know their own horses.”

“I’d be willing to wager that we’ll find Alcazar’s grooms were fired before the new horse was brought in,” Paddy said.

Harry lifted his brows in Adrian’s own gesture.

I spoke into the silence, “I think we’re all in agreement that the next logical step is to look at Alcazar ourselves.”

Paddy said, “And haven’t I brought Finn MacCool’s old groom from Ireland with me so we can do just that?”

The cold hand of fear squeezed my stomach. I said, “First we must make certain that Stade is not in residence.”

Harry turned to me. “What we need to do is get Adrian to take us to Newmarket for the running of the Guineas. Stade will be sure to be at the racetrack that day, and that will give us the perfect opportunity to take a look at this Alcazar.”

I regarded Harry with admiration. “That is a splendid plan, Harry.”

He looked pleased with himself.

Paddy said, “It is a good plan so long as Sean and I are the ones who are doing the looking.”

Harry scowled.

“We can lay our exact plans when we are actually at Newmarket,” I said hurriedly. “What we need to do first is to convince Adrian to take us there. And that might not be so easy.”

“I know,” Harry said. “He is so busy these days, and so... abstracted.”

“I don’t think he is very happy with the government’s repressive new laws,” I said.

“Of course he ain’t happy with them,” Harry said. “The way Liverpool is acting, you’d think barricades were going up in Pall Mall.”

“It’s disgraceful,” I agreed.

“Tell Adrian that you always went to Newmarket for the Guineas with your father, and you want to go to the meet for old times’ sake,” Harry suggested.

I bit my lip. “All right.”

“I’m after thinking that there is no need for either of you to come to Newmarket at all, Miss Cathleen,” Paddy said. “I will wait until the day of the running of the Guineas, and then Sean and I will go to look at the stallion. Afterward I will come back to London to tell you what I have seen. It will be better if we do it so.”

“You had better resign yourself to the fact that we are coming, Paddy,” Harry snapped. “There is no way on this earth that I am going to be left out of this adventure!”

Paddy gave him a disapproving look. “We’re after seeking justice,” he said. “This is not a schoolboy’s adventure, boyo.”

Harry’s face took on a stern expression that I had never seen it wear before. He looked suddenly older. “I understand that, all right. I’m sorry. Adventure was the wrong word.”

I said only, “I am coming.” Harry might talk of adventure, and Paddy of justice, but what I wanted was simpler. I wanted revenge.

At that moment, Louisa walked in with her library books. She stopped when she saw us and color rose in her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Kate. I did not know that you were engaged.”

I smiled to show her it was all right. “Put your books down, Louisa, and come meet a dear friend of mine,” I said. “This is Paddy O’Grady.”

Louisa gave a delighted smile and came forward to offer her hand. “I’ve heard so much about you, Mr. O’Grady,” she said. “Kate is very fond of you.”

Paddy bowed over her hand with a grace that surprised me. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said in his softest voice.

“Miss Cranbourne was the ‘female relation’ who was staying with me at Charlwood Court,” I explained to Paddy. “She is my mother’s cousin.”

“Is
it so?” Paddy said.

“Is Mr. O’Grady staying with us, Kate?” Louisa asked.

My reply of “Of course he is” clashed with Paddy’s “The grooms can put me up in the stable.”

“Nonsense,” Louisa said firmly. “You cannot stay in the stable, Mr. O’Grady.”

“Louisa is right,” I said. “This house isn’t half as intimidating as Greystone, Paddy. You can have a quite ordinary bedroom on the second floor with the rest of us.”

Paddy looked down at his boots. “I cannot be staying here like a guest,” he protested. “I have not the manner nor the clothes for it, girl.”

I waved my hand. “Harry can take you out tomorrow and buy you some clothes.” Then, as he was about to protest again, “Please, Paddy? For me? You are all I have left of Papa, and I
want
you to be near me.” I gazed at him beseechingly.

He sighed. “I cannot refuse you when you look like that, Miss Cathleen, and you know it.”

Of course I knew it. I smiled.

Louisa said, “If you like, Kate, I will take Mr. O’Grady to Mrs. Richards and she can show him to a room.”

I nodded, and Louisa and Paddy left the room together. Harry and I looked at each other. “We’ll get the bastard, Kate,” he promised.

I could feel my jaw set. “Yes,” I said. “We will.”

Chapter Fifteen

The day after Paddy’s arrival the Countess of Bridgewater had her annual ball. Since the Earl of Bridgewater was an important figure in the government, Adrian had to go, and of course I went with him. It was almost the only time we had gone out socially by ourselves, and I was nervous.

He came into my dressing room just as Jeanette was fastening a lovely strand of pearls around my throat. Adrian had given them to me on the night I first went to Almacks, and I loved them. I looked at his reflection in the mirror and smiled a little tensely. “I am almost ready, my lord,” I said.

“There is no hurry,” he replied, “I have not yet sent for the carriage.” He sat down in a chair that was too small for him and looked as if he was prepared to wait for another hour.

A little flush had crept into Jeanette’s cheeks when Adrian walked in. She was usually a very self-possessed girl, but Adrian’s presence always seemed to affect her that way. I had caught her several times gazing at him as if he were some sort of a god. It was a little annoying.

“Is my hair finished, Jeanette?” I asked. Even to myself, my voice sounded cool.

Her cheeks grew a fraction pinker. “Not quite, my lady. I must just poot ze combs in.” She picked up two pearl combs and deftly tucked them into the artful tumble of curls she had arranged on the top of my head. She really was very talented.

I had to admit that my hair had looked much nicer since she came.

I stood up carefully, so as not to disturb her handiwork. Adrian stood up as well, and as I turned to face him I said, “You may send for the carriage now, my lord. I am ready.”

He didn’t move, just stood there regarding me out of unreadable gray eyes. Adrian always looked splendid, but in a black evening coat he was enough to break your heart. I shot a quick look at Jeanette out of the corner of my eye and caught her doing it again.