The Vanishing Thief (8 page)

“Georgia, we have to consider the possibility that the murderer learned about Lupton from your father.”

My father would have only revealed that type of information to his abductor if he or my mother were tortured. I must have sounded grim when I replied, “We'll find out when I catch him.”

But where was he now?

Chapter Six

A
S
it turned out, Emma was gone most of the next day on our investigation while I managed the shop and wondered what I would discover at dinner that night. She returned in time to help Phyllida dress me for the party with the warning that I'd better not stay out late because she had more archival research to do the next morning. Phyllida hushed her while reminding me what each of the fourteen pieces of silverware I'd face at dinner was used for.

I took a cab to Lady Westover's and entered through the mews at the back so as not to be noticed arriving. Fortunately, it wasn't raining and by carefully stepping and holding my skirt embarrassingly high, I entered without trailing dirt and wet footsteps. I didn't have time to brush mud off my skirt, and it probably wouldn't have helped. The fabric would be ruined if the hem got wet or dirty.

Glancing out from the back hall, I saw no one by the front entrance or the stairs. Hurrying up the steps, I caught my breath outside the door to her formal parlor. Then I nodded to the butler and he opened the door. He announced me and I found I faced a silent room full of stares.

My evening gown had too little fabric in the tiny sleeves and too much in the front of my skirt. It was five years out of fashion, and the guests were probably considering how far from London and society I lived. I was well disguised to play Lady Westover's unfortunate relative. Lifting my head, I stepped forward, looking as pleased to meet them as I felt.

Lady Westover introduced me to Lord Naylard and his sister, Lucinda, before she was called away by the butler. After my curtsy, Naylard said, “It must be jolly to have family visit.” He had the coloring and eagerness of a golden retriever puppy.

“Even more so for me, since this is a special treat. Do you have a large family here in London?” I said.

“No. Miss Lucinda and I are on our own. We're not a hardy family. But we have each other.” He gave his sister a look of pure devotion.

She looked at him benignly, like a woman gazing at a not overly bright lapdog, and said, “My task in life is taking good care of my brother.” Her dark blue gown was high necked and her widely puffed sleeves covered the tops of her white gloves at the elbows. Her jewels at ear and neck and wrist were almost as understated as my pearl earrings.

I gave her a smile and said, “Your dress is both lovely and practical in these drafty houses. I admire your taste.”

Lucinda gave me a gracious nod but said nothing.

How did these aristocrats handle social situations if they didn't talk? Shifting the conversation, I said, “Lady Westover told me this was to be a family dinner, so you must be related to her, and, more distantly, to me.”

“Lady Westover is my mother's cousin, once or twice removed. How are you related to her?” Lord Naylard asked.

A detail she and I hadn't worked out. Aiming for vagueness, I said, “Through my scandalous grandmother. I think Lady Westover takes an interest in me to make certain I don't repeat family history best left forgotten.”

Another guest came up to us. Lord Hancock paid attention to only Lord Naylard, saying, “I'm glad I've seen you tonight. I have an opportunity I'd like to let you in on. I'll stop by your club tomorrow.”

Hancock had seen me at the Archivist Society meeting he'd crashed. He apparently hadn't considered me worthy of notice that night, but I turned to face Lucinda Naylard and hoped he didn't recognize me.

Miss Lucinda ignored me and moved between Hancock and her brother. “He has no interest in investing in machines of war, Lord Hancock.”

“The British army is fighting all over the globe for our empire. They should have every advantage,” Hancock said.

“Our army already has the advantage over those poor natives in every way. You can't save the world by inventing noxious things and blowing everyone up. And that's all we've seen your inventions do.” Miss Lucinda put a lovely sneer in her tone. I was impressed with her polished reserve. Apparently so was Naylard. He took a half step behind his sister.

Hancock matched her sneer as he said, “You claim to be concerned about saving the souls of all mankind, but I'm the one who's lived in Africa and met those savages. I've seen what they're capable of, and I think our soldiers should be protected from those heathens.”

Lady Naylard sniffed indelicately and said, “What were you doing that made the natives respond with violence?”

Hancock narrowed his eyes and jutted his chin aggressively. “I was studying the medical properties of plants and insects. Nothing that should have upset them. But I saw barbarism that can't be believed in this civilized country, much less spoken of in polite society.” He focused on Naylard and said, “Keep your sister home where she's safe to believe the natives have souls worth saving.”

Naylard was saying, “Oh, I can't let her leave—,” as a very young woman dressed in the height of fashion and dripping jewels joined us, Lady Westover at her side. Lucinda Naylard gave Hancock a scowl and turned to the new arrivals.

“Georgia,” Lady Westover said in a tone designed to remind everyone they were at a dinner party, “I'd like you to meet Miss Daisy Hancock. Her mother was my dear goddaughter. And have you been introduced to Lord Hancock, her uncle and guardian?”

I dropped into my curtsy again, keeping my head down in the hope that Lord Hancock wouldn't recognize me.

When I glanced up, Hancock looked fully at me for the first time and scowled. I decided to stay in character and hope he only thought I resembled someone as I said, “Lady Westover has mentioned you're a famous scientist.”

“More like infamous,” Lucinda Naylard murmured.

Miss Daisy looked her over with a pitying expression and said, “My uncle's a brilliant man. Too bad you don't recognize his greatness. He's done vital work for the army and he's a fellow of the Royal Society. I've been privileged to live in London with him since my parents' death.”

“Associate fellow, actually,” Lord Naylard added with happy eagerness, and then dipped his head like a scolded puppy when Hancock glared at him.

“Oh, good for you,” Miss Lucinda said with such finality the young woman was shocked into silence.

Hancock pulled Lady Westover aside and said in a loud whisper, “Really, should you be inflicting your unsavory relations on Miss Daisy? She's an innocent who was presented to the queen less than a year ago.”

“Oh, Georgia is innocent of any trespass. It's her grandmother I wouldn't introduce to Miss Daisy,” Lady Westover said blithely. “I had the worst time getting in contact with you. You really should let your friends know when you move.”

“We moved last fall from Chelling Meadows to a more convenient and modern town house. I thought you knew.” Hancock fixed her with a haughty expression.

“No, I didn't. Your brother was the one who bought Chelling Meadows. I suppose it's hard to make someone else's house yours.” Lady Westover matched his disdainful look before turning to her butler, who hovered at her shoulder. After a moment, she announced, “I've been informed dinner is ready. We'll go down now and hope our last guest arrives soon. Eddy, if you'd escort Miss Daisy down, and Georgia, you'll have to bring up the rear on your own.”

Eddy, Lady Westover's grandson and a Scotland Yard inspector who much preferred to be called Edward or Inspector Grantham, winced but did as he was bidden. He flashed me a look that clearly said,
What are you up to?
before he offered Miss Daisy his arm.

We entered the dining room and faced Lady Westover's large square table with two seats on each of the four sides and a stunning floral arrangement in the center. With the amount of time and effort Lady Westover spent on her heated glasshouse, I shouldn't have been surprised at the gaily colored spring flowers that decorated the table.

Once we were all seated, the vacant chair next to me drew all eyes. Lady Westover had told me earlier my missing partner was the son of an old friend and suspected in Drake's disappearance, but she refused to give me the man's identity.

Naylard shared a corner of the table with me, giving me an excellent opportunity to question him about Drake. As soon as the soup course was served and the footmen retired, I said, “I've heard a friend of yours has gone missing.”

His unlined face scrunched up in a frown. “Who?” he asked around a mouthful of creamy asparagus soup.

“Nicholas Drake.”

“Yes. Shocking, isn't it?”

“How did you meet?”

“It's dashed embarrassing. How we met, that is.” Naylard turned pink. “I was standing on the riverbank watching some friends practice rowing at Henley. I slipped and fell in. Drake fished me out. Saved my life.”

“Can you swim, my lord?” I asked, staring into his eyes. Around us, other conversations were going on. No one was paying us any attention.

“Not a lick. I'm terribly uncoordinated.”

“I imagine you keep that secret.”

In the pause as Naylard took a spoonful of soup and then a sip of wine, I heard Lord Hancock touting the benefits of his newest invention to Inspector Grantham. Grantham's responses were toneless noises.

“Oh, no. Everyone knows I sink like a stone. This is the second time I almost drowned. The first was at school. Friends still tease me about it.”

“How did you come to slip and fall in?” I took a quick sip of my soup. It was hot and creamy, the perfect thing on a cool, drafty night when I was expected to display a good deal of my neck and shoulders.

“The riverbank was wet and slick. I lost my footing when a wind gust hit me.”

“Those strong winds must have made practicing rowing on the river difficult.”

“No, there was no wind on the river.” A startled look crossed Naylard's face. “Oh. Someone must have bumped me. I felt a nudge but I thought it was a strong breeze. Drake was the only one nearby to rescue me.”

Just as I suspected. Drake helped Naylard into the river so he could rescue him. In the silence as distrust slowly penetrated Naylard's mind, I heard Lady Westover question someone about their favorite charity. I watched as Naylard's expression changed from cheerful to questioning to surprised and then worried.

Was the man really so naive? “So you've been friends with Drake ever since he saved your life,” I said. “Any idea where he is now?”

Worry disappeared from his face. “No. I haven't seen him since Lady Florence, the Duke of Merville's daughter, had her engagement party last week. He's not been in any of our usual haunts.”

“It is worrying when a friend vanishes.”

“Quite. It's dashed disconcerting having people pop in and out of your life. Lucinda says it's God's will, but I'm afraid I don't share her faith.”

I took a mouthful of soup, trying to think of a reply that would keep Naylard talking when the dining room doors opened and the butler announced, “The Duke of Blackford.”

It was all I could do to keep from choking. Blackford here? I'd spoken to him under my own name at his house and then at Sir Broderick's. I'd told Lady Westover I'd met him. What was the old woman thinking of? He'd give me away.

My face heated as I stared at my soup, afraid at any moment my deception would be exposed. Mercifully, the Duke of Blackford began to talk to Lady Westover and Miss Daisy Hancock. I had only a few minutes before he would turn to face me and give away my true identity. I had to learn what I could from Lord Naylard.

I took a gulp of wine to wash the panic out of my voice. Hoping I didn't sound like a fool, I asked, “What interests do you share with Mr. Drake?”

“We both love a good practical joke. Drake has such a keen sense of humor. We both play cards, although I play badly. And we both like horse racing and horse trading. He's supposed to be looking for a new filly for my stables.”

“You breed horses?”

“Yes.” He started on a long story about horse breeding at his stables. All I needed to do was make appropriate noises at the correct moments and Naylard provided the rest of the conversation. Now I had the perfect opportunity to eavesdrop on other conversations around the table.

My interest quickly waned in Lord Hancock trying to sell shares in his latest weaponry to Lady Westover, and Inspector Grantham's increasingly forceful refusals on her behalf. I turned my attention to studying Blackford. His voice was a deep hum in answer to Miss Daisy's chatter. He ate neatly and sparingly. I dared not look at him directly, but I could glance in his direction as I sipped from my soup spoon. His jacket sleeve was made of the finest black material and his cuff link was a bloodred ruby.

I swallowed the last of my now-lukewarm soup and turned my attention back to Naylard just in time. A moment later, he finished his tale about his barns with “Don't you think?”

Giving him my best smile, I said, “I'm afraid I'm not an expert on raising horses, milord.”