The River Knows (13 page)

Anthony sat down in one of the gold chairs. “Mrs. Bryce does have a way of injecting a certain excitement into things.”

Louisa shot him a repressive glare. He gave her a polite smile.

“Indeed, she does,” Miranda said. She regarded Anthony with an expectant air. “She tells me that you are assisting her in one of her exciting little investigations, Mr. Stalbridge.”

“I thought it would be amusing,” Anthony said. “I, too, have found life a trifle dull of late.”

Louisa raised her eyes to the ceiling.

Miranda gave a throaty chuckle. “Mrs. Bryce will soon rectify that problem for you.”

“I have already noticed a marked change in the monotonous routine of my daily affairs,” he assured her.

Hah, Louisa thought. Nothing about his life could possibly be routine, let alone monotonous.

“I can well imagine that,” Miranda murmured. “One hears that after you returned from your extensive travels abroad a few years ago you immersed yourself in the business of managing your family’s finances.”

Startled, Louisa looked at Anthony for confirmation.

“It is dull work,” he admitted. “Unfortunately, it became painfully clear that I was the only one in the family with a head for investments.”

Miranda chuckled. “By all accounts you are, indeed, exceptionally skilled in that regard. One hears that you saved the entire Stalbridge clan from bankruptcy.”

“Our fortunes have historically tended to fluctuate somewhat,” he said politely.

Miranda winked. “Not since you took the helm. I trust your family is suitably grateful for your financial talents.”

He smiled. “Very few members of my family pay any attention whatsoever to finances. They only notice if there is suddenly no money conveniently at hand.”

Louisa felt the heat rush into her face. To think she’d once imagined that he had restored the family fortune via a career as a jewel thief.

She cleared her throat. “Thank you for seeing us, Miranda,” she said in a businesslike manner. “It was very kind of you.”

“Nonsense. I’ve been looking forward to it.” Miranda smiled. “I do so enjoy our little conferences.”

Anthony looked at her. “May I ask how you and Mrs. Bryce came to form your interesting association?”

“Hasn’t she told you?” Miranda raised her brows. “The truth is, sir, I am very much in her debt. Several months ago she came to me because she discovered that I was about to invest a considerable sum of money in an investment scheme that was being concocted by two socially prominent gentlemen.”

Anthony looked at Louisa.

“The California Mine Swindle,” she said.

“Ah, yes.” Anthony leaned back in his chair. “I remember it well. Grayson and Lord Bartlett were the two men behind the swindle. In the wake of the reports in the press, they were forced to retire to their estates.”

“The scheme was a complete fraud, of course,” Miranda said coldly. “It was designed to take advantage of people like me. People who possess money but who do not move in Society.”

“Yes,” Anthony said quietly. “I know.”

Miranda made a soft sound of disgust. “Grayson and Bartlett would never have dreamed of ruining any of their high-ranking acquaintances in the Polite World, but they did not hesitate to destroy those whom they felt were beneath them. I was not the only intended victim.”

Louisa gripped her muff very tightly. “They laughed about it.”

Anthony contemplated her with an enigmatic expression. “How did you come to learn of the scheme in time to warn Miss Fawcett?”

“It was a matter of the sheerest chance,” she said. “Emma and I attended an art exhibition one evening. The hall was very warm. I stepped outside to get some fresh air, and I overheard part of a conversation that was taking place between Grayson and Lord Bartlett. I did not catch all the details, but it was enough to know that they were plotting some villainy involving Miss Fawcett.”

“She came to me with the story,” Miranda added. “As soon as I heard the names of the two men I realized immediately that they must have been discussing my investment. I couldn’t understand what they were about. I have no head for that sort of thing, you see. So I mentioned it to a very good friend of mine who has an excellent brain for business. He grasped the implications at once and made some inquiries.”

“Miranda contacted me to thank me and to tell me what her friend had uncovered,” Louisa concluded. “I determined to inform the world about the swindle because there were a number of other victims. I made an appointment with the publisher and editor of the Flying Intelligencer and overnight I became I.

M. Phantom.”

“And I became one of I. M. Phantom’s secret informants.” Miranda twitched her skirts into even more perfect, graceful folds and regarded Anthony with an expectant expression. “Now, then, Louisa said in her message that you wish to ask me some questions.”

“They are related to our investigation of Hastings,” Anthony said. He spoke deliberately. “We found some evidence indicating that he pursued a career as a blackmailer.”

Miranda made a soft, disgusted sound. “I have always considered blackmail one of the lowest of crimes.”

“Most of the items we found were personal possessions of young ladies that contained rather passionate references to a handsome lover,” Louisa said. “What we do not understand is how the items came into Hastings’s hands.”

Miranda nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose you can tell me the names of any of the victims?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Louisa said. “We feel an obligation to protect their identities.”

“I quite understand,” Miranda said. “I would like to help you, but I’m not entirely sure what you want from me.”

Anthony looked at her. “You seem to know a fair amount about Hastings. You were able to tell Louisa the names of some of his business associates and that he might have a financial interest in a brothel.”

“Yes,” Miranda said. She winked at Louisa. “I, too, have my informant.”

“We do not believe that Hastings put together the blackmail scheme on his own,” Louisa said. “We know that he had at least one other employee, a man of business named Phillip Grantley, but Grantley put a pistol to his head two weeks ago.”

“What we would like to know,” Anthony said, “is whether Hastings has any other people working for him. Specifically a handsome, blond-haired man in his late twenties. We believe there is such a person and that he was the one who compromised the young ladies whose relatives were later blackmailed.”

“Ah, yes, now I understand,” Miranda said. “I do not know the answer offhand, but I will be happy to make inquiries. Will you give me a day or so?”

“Certainly,” Louisa said. “Thank you so much. Mr. Stalbridge and I are very grateful.”

“Nonsense.” Miranda waved one hand in a graceful gesture. “You know I quite enjoy our little adventures.”

“There is one more thing,” Anthony said.

Miranda gave him an inquiring look. “Yes, Mr. Stalbridge?”

“Forgive me if I am being overly personal, but Louisa tells me that you and Clement Corvus are well acquainted.”

Miranda’s laugh was low and sultry. “Indeed, we are, sir. For more than twenty years now.”

Anthony took an envelope out from an inside pocket of his coat. “In that case may I ask that you give him this with my compliments the next time you see him?”

14

Anthony handed Louisa up into the carriage. He had hired a cab for the afternoon rather than use his own vehicle. There was no need to advertise to the world that he and Louisa were calling on the retired actress.

When he sat down across from her, he realized that Louisa was fairly shimmering with suppressed curiosity. It occurred to him that no matter what her mood, he was fascinated by her. Whenever he was in her presence he was aware of a deeply sensual, mysteriously feminine energy that compelled all that was male in him. He felt drawn to her by invisible bonds. It had never been like this with any other woman.

“What was in that envelope?” she demanded.

He made himself pay attention to the question. “Some papers relating to the investment consortium that Hastings recently formed with Hammond and Wellsworth,” he said.

“I don’t understand. Why do you think Mr. Corvus would be interested?”

“Because according to those papers, he is the fourth investor in the consortium.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, my.”

“But by far the more intriguing part is that it appears Hastings and the others are planning to cheat Corvus out of his fair share of the profits. Evidently they have concluded that if they keep certain facts about the venture from him, he will never realize that the slice of the pie he will eventually receive will be much smaller than that of the others.”

“They assume that because Clement Corvus does not come from their world and cannot join their clubs he will never discover the truth. They are happy to take his money and then turn around and cheat him.” She made a tight little fist with one hand. “That is so typical of that sort.”

“Corvus is a crime lord, Louisa. Not a saint. There is no need to feel sorry for him. He has cheated his fair share of people over the years and no doubt done a good deal worse.”

“I suppose that is true.” She turned her attention to the street scene beyond the carriage window. “It is the arrogance of Hastings and the others that I cannot bear. Men like that think nothing of crushing someone else, provided that person is of a lower class.”

“Have you always been this concerned about the villains who move in Society?” he asked quietly.

She flinched a little, as if she had forgotten he was there until he spoke. When she turned back to him he saw wariness in her eyes. He sensed she regretted the small display of intensity.

“Forgive me,” she said, keeping her voice very even. “I am aware that there are occasions when I become too emotional about my work.”

He smiled. “I do not mind strong passions.”

She blinked. “You don’t?”

“No. In fact, I find them quite exhilarating at times.”

She searched his face, bewildered. “I don’t understand what you mean, sir.”

“This is what I mean, Mrs. Bryce.”

He leaned forward, cupped the back of her head with one hand, brought her face very close to his, and covered her mouth with his own.

She seemed stunned for a few seconds, but she did not try to pull away. He felt a shiver course through her. He tightened his grip. She put one gloved hand very delicately on his shoulder. Her lips parted slightly.

Everything inside him leaped with excitement. It was all he could do not to pull her down onto the seat, push up her skirts, and sink himself into her. That thought made him realize that the windows were uncovered. Without releasing Louisa he used one hand to yank down the blinds.

When the shadows of the closed cab enveloped them, he gripped her head with both hands, anchored her, and deliberately deepened the kiss. Her mouth was soft and infinitely inviting. He drank from the warm well she offered as though he had been deprived of water for months, maybe years.

He heard the tiniest of feminine moans. The small sound enthralled him. He was thoroughly aroused now, hard and straining against his trousers. He lowered one hand to Louisa’s breast, learning the shape of her through the fabric of the gown.

There was another little sound, a small gasp of surprise this time, and then her fingers tightened convulsively around his shoulders.

“Mr. Stalbridge,” she got out in a choked voice.

“I know.” He groaned and raised his head reluctantly. “This is hardly the time or place. My apologies, madam. I am aware that this is not the way this sort of thing is usually done. All I can say is that where you are concerned, nothing seems to occur in a predictable fashion.”

She stared at him through fogged-up spectacles, her mouth open, cheeks flushed.

Amused, he removed her spectacles. She blinked and then frowned ever so slightly when he took out a freshly laundered handkerchief and proceeded to polish the lenses.

He handed the spectacles back to her.

“Thank you,” she said, sounding breathless.

She put on the spectacles and suddenly became very busy adjusting her hat and straightening the skirts of her gown.

He watched her for a moment, enjoying the sight of her sitting there across from him, savoring the knowledge that she had responded to him. After a time he raised the blinds.

When Louisa eventually ran out of small chores she cleared her throat, sat back, and clasped her hands very tightly together.

“Well, then,” she said, and then stopped.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he reminded her gently.

Her brows snapped together. “What question?”

“When did you develop your great passion for bringing the criminals of the Polite World to justice?”

“Oh. After I came to stay with Emma.” She looked out the window. “Before that I took it for granted that there was nothing that could be done about such people.”

“Did something happen to someone you care about?” he asked, probing carefully. “Something that inspired your desire to see justice rendered among those who move in Society?”

“It was nothing personal,” she said smoothly. “Merely my observations of the world.”

She was lying, he realized. Very interesting.

He smiled slightly. “One of these days I will have to introduce you to a friend of mine. He is a man who understands what it is to be driven by a passion for justice. The two of you will have much to talk about, I think.”

She glanced at him, frowning slightly. “Who is he?”

“His name is Fowler. He is a detective in Scotland Yard.”

An expression that could only have been horror flashed across her face. It was gone almost immediately, but not before it had made a forceful impression on him.

“You are personally acquainted with a policeman?” she asked tightly.

There was mystery upon mystery here. He folded his arms and lounged deeper into the corner of the carriage, his curiosity thoroughly aroused.

“Fowler was the man who investigated Fiona’s death,” he explained. “He also dealt with the suicide of Victoria Hastings. Like me, he was convinced that there was a connection to Elwin Hastings, but he could find no way to prove it.”