The Vanishing Thief (9 page)

“We'll continue later,” he said in a soft voice as the footmen picked up the soup bowls.

When the fish was set before us, Blackford turned to me with a cold smile. The clatter of silver and the rumble of voices faded in my ears. Apprehension must have shown in my eyes because my heart was pounding and I'd lost my appetite.

In a very low voice he said, “I didn't realize you were Lady Westover's country cousin, Miss—Peabody. Or should I say Miss Fenchurch? Does the presence of a Scotland Yard inspector have anything to do with why we're enjoying this meal together?”

“No.” The duke deserved a better answer. He'd not given me away yet. I kept my voice low to match his. “The inspector's here to even the numbers and make it appear more of a family dinner. And he's curious about Drake's disappearance, although it's not his case.”

“Scotland Yard inspectors don't attend dinner parties to even the number of men and women, even for as persuasive a hostess as his grandmama, and they don't get curious.”

“I think they must. Curiosity is the most important characteristic an investigator can possess.”

He took a bite of his fish and considered. “You're probably right,” he said when he'd swallowed. “So what is this dinner in aid of?”

“Drake was introduced to Victoria Dutton-Cox by Lord Naylard. Lord Hancock was a victim of Drake's. I want to question them without them realizing what I'm doing.”

He'd jerked in his seat when I mentioned Victoria's name, but by the time I finished speaking, he had himself under control again. “That'll be easy with Naylard. The man lacks both suspicion and brains.” He took a sip of his wine. “Do you want to question me again?”

“Yes.”

“Then it will only be fair if I question you, too.”

“All right.”
What does he want?
“Did Drake try to blackmail you?”

“Yes. How long have you been looking for missing people?”

I glanced around, trying to hide my surprise. I hadn't expected the duke to admit that Drake had blackmailed him. Fortunately, no one at the dinner was paying any attention to us. “Over ten years. What did Drake possess that would make him think he could blackmail you? You're a formidable man. He's very ordinary.”

A smile flickered over his lips. “Letters written by my sister. I control her money; therefore, he came to me to sell his silence. Have you ever been someone's mistress?”

I felt my eyes widen and my cheeks burn. That was hardly a question one could ask in polite society, but then, the same could be said of questions about blackmail. I thought I had the upper hand until he'd turned the tables on me. The man had the instincts of a hunter hidden inside impeccable tailoring. This was a man I could understand.

Glancing across the table, I saw Lady Westover staring at me. Fortunately, no one else seemed to notice my discomfort. I gave a half smile and turned my attention back to the duke.

He raised his dark brows. “Surely you didn't think you could ask my deepest secrets without revealing your own?”

I took a deep breath and tried to steady my voice. “No and no. I'm not. Did you pay his blackmail and for how long?”

“No. I offered to buy the letters, but so far, we've not agreed on a price. Has a man ever made love to you?”

The soft growl of his voice as he asked me his impertinent question left me sweltering in the chilly dining room. I swallowed hard. “Yes. Who are the other men you mentioned who belong to your club who are also being blackmailed by Mr. Drake?” I wondered if he'd confirm the list I'd already obtained.

“Hancock, Dutton-Cox, Waxpool, and Merville. What did your parents think of your scandalous behavior?”

“It's not a scandal if no one finds out, and my parents were long dead at that point. Why is Lord Hancock being blackmailed?”

His gaze flicked across the table at the man in question. “It can't be over his inventions. They're both dangerous and disastrous. And it's no secret that his finances are shaky at best. With all that being gossiped about as common knowledge against Lord Hancock, I can't imagine what his secret is. Are you and this unnamed gentleman still lovers?”

I was saved by the next course. I turned my attention back to Lord Naylard, giving my heart rate a chance to slow while I tried with delicacy to learn why Drake would blackmail such an uncomplicated man.

“I keep thinking of Mr. Drake,” I told Naylard. “He's out there somewhere and here you are his good friend, and you don't know where he is. Has he disappeared like this before?”

Naylard finished his bite. “This is very good roast. Try some. Drake hasn't disappeared before. I never went more than two or three days without seeing him, and it's been a week.”

“Do you always see him in the same locations? Perhaps you haven't been to these places lately and Mr. Drake isn't really missing.” I was already sick of looking at so much food and wishing this was Phyllida's simple cooking.

He chewed slowly and studied the far wall. “No. I either see him at my club, and I'm there almost daily, or at the racecourse, but there haven't been any races lately. Perhaps he's gone somewhere to look at a promising filly. He'll turn up and make a joke at the thought of anyone being concerned.”

“And as your sister says, it's all in God's hands.”

Naylard seemed to back up a little in his chair. “I say, are you one of them?”

“One of whom, milord?”

“Is that why you're not quite eligible to go out in polite society?”

Had this man who appeared so simple figured out I was an impostor? “What do you mean, milord?”

“Lady Westover said you weren't eligible for polite society. Nothing naughty, I hope.” He grinned as if he'd told a childish joke.

I grinned back. “No, but my grandmother was scandalous. Your sister hasn't done anything scandalous, has she?”

“Oh, no. Lucinda believes in following all of the commandments. She's very wise.”

“I'm certain of that.” Talking to Lord Naylard was useful, but I was beginning to develop a headache from all the verbal leaps we were taking. “Am I one of whom?”

“Papists, of course. Is that why you're not quite eligible to go out in polite society?”

Was that the reason Miss Lucinda Naylard was blackmailed?

Naylard had begun another long tale about his animals when my roast course disappeared, replaced by the fowl course. I felt cold seep into every fiber of my being. Time to question Blackford again. My pulse began to race before I could turn my head.

The duke was already looking at me, a smile trailing off his face. The sort of look a cat gives a sparrow. Well, this sparrow was a determined little bird. “Was Drake blackmailing Hancock and the others in your club with letters their relatives had sent?”

“You haven't answered my last question. Are you still his paramour?”

Chapter Seven

I
GLARED
at the Duke of Blackford, unwilling to let him probe my feelings of loss. The man had been my fiancé, my hope for a life with a husband and children, after I'd lost my family at seventeen. I took a breath to steady my voice. “He's dead.”

“My condolences.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. Now—?”

“I don't know what papers he was blackmailing the others with. I know in Merville's case it is something going back more than ten years. When did your protector die?”

How dare he assume I was a kept woman. We were in love and planned to marry. The pain of losing him came out in my sharp hiss. “He wasn't my protector. We were of the same class. He died four years ago. What did the duke say to tell you it was an old scandal?”

“He said, ‘I can't believe Drake found out. It's been over ten years. I'll be a laughingstock if anyone learns about this.' Did he tell you he'd marry you someday?”

I didn't know which was more upsetting. His questions or his purring voice as he asked. “We were engaged and had set a wedding date. Rather like you and Miss Victoria, Your Grace.” My comment about Victoria Dutton-Cox made no visible impression on him. He didn't even blink. “What do you know about the Earl of Waxpool's secret?”

“Nothing. He doesn't have one. Have you been in love since the death of your lover?”

I reached out and touched his sleeve. “Hold on a moment. He's being blackmailed but he doesn't have a secret? That makes no sense.”

“If you want clarification, you must answer my question first.”

“No.”

“The answer is no, or you won't answer?”

I smiled. “If you want clarification . . .”

“Touché. The Earl of Waxpool has led a disgustingly virtuous life. You don't have to take my word for it; check with anyone. He said he had recently noticed irregularities in his accounts and suspected one of his relatives stole from him to pay off their blackmailer. If he suspected someone in particular, he didn't tell me.” He ate another bite. “I believe you owe me an explanation on your answer about whether you've been in love since your fiancé died.”

“No, I haven't been. Could you please explain what you said earlier about Lord Hancock?”

“He's constantly inventing something lethal and looking for investors so he can mass-produce it and have it deployed to slaughter the residents of some corner of the empire. Since his inventions are so destructive, our military is loath to use them for fear our soldiers would be among the victims. No one with any sense will invest with him.” He shook his head. “I don't have any idea why someone would blackmail a man with so little money and so many lethal weapons at his disposal. Why are you looking for Drake?”

I was surprised at first because his question wasn't personal. Relieved that it wasn't, I began with a simple answer. “Because that's what the Archivist Society does. We search for missing people and find the killers of those who are murdered.”

Warming to my topic, I said more than he might have wanted to hear. “We believe what we do is important. And we do this for everyone, whether or not they deserve our help, because we decided long ago we wouldn't stand in judgment.”

Blackford nodded. “I can understand that for some unfortunate wreck, some light skirt, but not for Nicholas Drake. He destroys people.”

“Who has he destroyed?”

He stared into my eyes. I could feel anger and hatred flowing toward me. I stared back, but he didn't blink or turn away.

We were served the next course. I faced Naylard with only half my attention as he plunged into a long explanation of how his steward figured out what was wrong with one of his mares. What I really wanted to do was ignore the rules of etiquette and question Blackford further about Drake.

I glanced across the table at Naylard's sister. Lucinda barely touched any of her food and paid little attention to what Inspector Grantham said to her. “Milord,” I broke in, “is your sister quite well? She's barely touched her dinner and looks quite pale.”

“She doesn't believe in eating much or wearing jewelry or anything but praying.”

“Is she heartbroken over a man?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course. I don't know anyone in society to tell anything to, except for Lady Westover, and I won't tell her. I promise.”

“My sister wants to live in a convent, except she can't, because she's got to take care of me. I'd destroy myself and end up in a gutter somewhere if she didn't take care of things for me.”

I looked into his guileless eyes and unfurrowed brow and said, “You're lucky to have her.”

“I know. She can't leave me. She's always watched over me.”

No one could blackmail Naylard. But someone could blackmail his sister if it meant keeping her brother safe.

The ices arrived, and I turned back to the duke. He said, “Have you had any luck finding Drake?”

“Not at all. But we won't give up.”

“Wonderful,” he muttered.

“Why did you say Drake destroys people?”

“I have the misfortune to have met him, and I've seen him ruin lives. I won't give you details because it's ungentlemanly to divulge other people's secrets, so don't ask me.”

While I tried to think of another line of questioning, I tasted the ice. In an instant, I was savoring sweet and cold mixed with the flavor of bits of strawberry. Where had Lady Westover's cook found strawberries at this time of year? I didn't care if the berries were grown in a glasshouse or shipped in from Africa, I fell under their spell. The chill on my tongue made the fruit even more honeyed and almost made me miss the duke's next words.

“I didn't know something as simple as an ice could make a determined young woman like you melt.”

Jerking my head to the side, the spoon still on my lips, I caught the laughter in the duke's eyes. I had a task to accomplish. I regretfully set down my spoon and said, “Is there anyone else who might be blackmailed by Nicholas Drake?”

“Not that I know of.” His expression turned serious. “Have you considered this might be dangerous?”

“Yes. This wouldn't be my first investigation that involved ruffians.” The worst ruffian of all was the first. He looked like a gentleman, but he'd killed my parents and possibly Denis Lupton for possession of a Bible. And I still hadn't found him.

Unaware of where my thoughts had traveled, the duke said, “Drake can't pay you for your efforts on his behalf. Even if he could, he wouldn't.”

There was a little left in my crystal cup and I was enjoying the last spoonful, only half listening to the duke's words. Then I turned to face him and felt my eyes widen at the intense way he was staring at me. I was immediately on my guard. “Sometimes we're paid for our efforts. The rest can be considered charity if you wish.”

He leaned forward slightly and stared into my eyes. “Be careful Drake doesn't destroy you in your efforts to help him.”

“Ladies, if you come with me to the parlor, the men can rejoin us later.” Lady Westover stood and led the way out of the dining room. I followed, wondering whether it was Victoria Dutton-Cox or Blackford's sister who had been destroyed by Drake. And I felt decidedly uneasy about the unfathomable look the duke had given me.

When we reached the plant-filled parlor, Lucinda Naylard and Daisy Hancock chose opposite sides of the room. I decided to follow Daisy, who had settled on a sofa close to the only warm spot in the room, in front of the fire. Pushing aside the leaf of a rubber plant, I asked, “How did you enjoy your first season?”

The girl brightened. “It was everything I had hoped for and more. I danced every dance at every ball. I wore beautiful gowns and flirted with handsome men. There's nothing in the world as exciting and glittery. I can't wait for spring when it starts over again.”

“But surely you'll marry soon and have other important duties to fulfill.”

Daisy looked at me as if I had just spouted blasphemy. “My uncle says I must choose a husband this year and get married, but I want to enjoy this two more times at least. I don't think three seasons will qualify me as a spinster, do you? There's nothing more fun than shopping for clothes and going to balls and seeing old friends.”

“It sounds wonderful,” I said. If my doubt showed in my tone, Daisy didn't notice.

“My uncle says I need to find a husband this year or I'll end up like her,” she said in a hissing whisper as she nodded toward Lucinda.

When I glanced over, Lucinda sat alone. She appeared to be praying. Lord Hancock needn't worry. Daisy would never be like Lucinda.

Inspector Grantham came into the room. “Grandmama, I'm sorry, but I must leave now. I've been called back to Scotland Yard.”

“You work too hard, Eddy,” she said as she kissed his cheek.

“Cousin Georgia, I'll speak to you later. Ladies.” The inspector gave the room a bow and hurried away.

The other gentlemen joined us a short while later. Lucinda immediately pulled her brother into a corner and whispered in his ear. Coffee was served and Daisy gave Blackford a flirtatious look. He walked as far from her as he could, ending up by the window draperies, and set his coffee cup on a lace-covered table. “I don't think he likes girls,” Daisy whispered to me.

“Perhaps he prefers women,” I whispered back.

Daisy looked around the room with a pout. Her uncle, who'd cornered the duke in close conversation, wore a similar expression.

Lady Westover came over to join us, and I took the opportunity to say, “So, you've known each other a long time.”

“I was godmother to Daisy's mother. After her death, I've tried to look after Daisy,” Lady Westover said. “Lord Hancock has never married, and I thought a woman's touch would be helpful. I'm afraid I've been remiss in my duty to you, young lady.”

Daisy gave a weak smile in reply. Her gaze darted as if she were looking for an escape from her hostess.

“You lost both your parents at a young age?” I asked. I had been seventeen when both of my parents were murdered. I understood her loss.

“My eleventh birthday. I was allowed to eat with my parents in the big dining room, and by the next day, both of them were dead.”

“What happened to them?”

“Typhoid. Bad seafood. Something they ate. I don't know. I didn't like the strange foods served at adult dinners and refused to touch most of the dishes. I still don't eat seafood or spinach or asparagus.” Daisy looked past me and smiled brightly.

The duke's voice came over my shoulder. “Lady Westover, I enjoyed dinner immensely. It's always good to see my mother's close friends. Please invite me anytime you have your charming family members visit.”

I turned and caught his eye. After he nodded to me, he gave me a searching look. He knew our story was a lie. At least he didn't give me away.

We struggled to keep up a conversation for the rest of the half hour society dictated we should enjoy our coffee after the meal. I found myself between Lord Hancock and Lord Naylard while trying to think of something that would lead the conversation toward Drake and his disappearance. All I came up with was, “I'd love to tour your laboratory sometime, Lord Hancock. Your work on behalf of our soldiers sounds interesting.”

“I don't give tours of my laboratory. It's not a museum,” he said, glaring at me. At least he showed no sign of recognizing me from the meeting in Sir Broderick's study.

“He won't show his lab to potential investors,” Lord Naylard said.

“Of course not. Creating chemical compounds requires careful measurements and undivided attention. I consider that room to be mine alone. I never let anyone in my laboratory. Not Daisy. Not the servants. Not visitors.”

Daisy joined us and said, “After my parents died, I spent a lot of time trying to get into the laboratory. A challenge, I suppose. He keeps the keys to the doors on a chain on his waistcoat pocket, and all the windows have bars over them. I never found a way in.”

I heard her stress the word “I.” “Never?”

She shook her head.

“Never. I never let anyone in.” Hancock caught Daisy's eye and she looked down quickly. “We must be going. Thank you, Lady Westover,” Lord Hancock said as he took his niece's arm. The Naylards and the duke also said good-bye.

Lady Westover and I went to the entry hall to see the visitors off. Once the door was shut behind them, Lady Westover said, “Was the evening successful?”

“Yes, even though I ended the night with more questions than answers. Do you remember anything unusual about the Duke of Merville or his family ten or so years ago?”

“Merville? Nothing comes to mind. They've always been a bit dry and ordinary. Especially for a duke's family.”

“And I thought you weren't in touch with Hancock. That was clever of you to invite them.”