Anne Barbour (22 page)

She left the room with a great rustling of skirts, accompanied by Tally’s chuckle.

Some hours later, Tally was seated in the little room adjoining Richard’s study, pencil in hand. Her worktable was littered with drawings, all of a single subject. Jonathan’s face stared up at her from a hundred angles, profile, front-face, and even a few from just over his shoulder. There were watercolors, in which his gray eyes flashed with green, like lightning before a summer storm. There were charcoal sketches in which his black hair swept over his forehead in a smoky curve. And there was one, which she hastily thrust to the bottom of the pile, in which he stood, shirtless, his muscular chest swirled with delicate black pencil strokes, his arms outstretched in an inviting gesture that was purely a figment of her fantasy.

With a sigh, she gathered the drawings into her arms preparatory to burning them in the fireplace, and was thus occupied when a housemaid tapped at her door with the information that a gentleman wished to see her.

Tally’s heart lurched, and her stomach began performing acrobatics. As calmly as she could, she ascertained from the maid that the gentleman awaited her in the small salon, and she willed herself to a calm she did not possess.

To her astonishment and vast disappointment, it was not Jonathan who sat at his ease in the salon, one booted leg swinging gently over the other, but Miles Crawshay. His pointed chin sported a fading bruise, and there was a suspicious darkness over one eye, but he was his impeccable self, dressed in a coat of superfine and a waistcoat of Turkish striped silk, from which depended no less than six fobs.

He rose gracefully as Tally entered the room, and he assisted her in seating herself opposite his own chair. Tally murmured a courteous greeting, but then found herself completely at a loss for words. What in the world was Crawshay doing in the Thurston home? Why would he be paying a call on the person most hated by his beautiful cousin? Particularly after what was no doubt one of the most unpleasant experiences of his life at the hands of his beautiful cousin’s ex-fiancé.

As though reading her thoughts, Crawshay coughed deprecatingly and began without preamble.        “I should imagine, my dear Lady Talitha, that you are wondering why I have called.” Dismissing Tally’s automatic disclaimers, he continued smoothly. “I came to return a certain item, which I am sure belongs to you.”

As Tally stared questioningly at him, he withdrew from an inner coat pocket a small pad of paper and handed it to her. To her horror, she recognized the drawings it contained as those she had made at Covent Garden. It was the pad she had dropped in panic, the night of her near-imprisonment!

Her mouth was so dry, she could barely speak. “I—I don’t understand,” she croaked, in what she knew to be a ludicrous attempt at nonchalance. “What is this?”

Crawshay’s amused chuckle sounded like a death knell in the cheerful little room. “Why, it is your sketch pad, Lady Talitha. Or, should I say, Miss Mouse?”

The chair on which Tally was seated seemed to heave beneath her, and the surrounding tables and chairs danced and swayed before her eyes. If she had thought confrontation with a Bow Street Runner the worst thing she would ever have to suffer in this life, she was finding herself badly mistaken. She licked her lips. “I don’t understand,” she whispered, once again.

“You are being extraordinarily obtuse, my lady, for one who, I am told, enjoys a reputation for. sharp wittedness.” Crawshay settled back in his chair, as though prepared to enjoy his morning’s work. “Very well, I shall try to make myself plain.

“As you are undoubtedly aware, a slight contretemps occurred the other night between the Countess of Bellewood and a certain flower woman, at the Opera House in Covent Garden.”

Tally tried to assume an expression of bored inquiry. “But what has this to do with me?” she asked, examining her fingernails in an offhand manner.

“As it happened, I witnessed a portion of the scene. I saw the flower woman drop her sketch pad on the steps of the theater. As it happened, I, er, left the area rather hurriedly at that point and did not return until sometime later, but I retrieved the pad. After I had perused the drawings, I realized that the artist was none other than the illustrator of that loudly acclaimed satire, Town Bronze.”

For a moment, Tally thought she was going to be physically ill. With a supreme effort, she lifted her chin and looked down a nose that was singularly ill-equipped for such a procedure. That’s certainly interesting, Mr. Crawshay, but I fail to see what it has to do with me.”

“Then I shall have to make myself even more plain.” He reached over to tap Tally’s knee playfully. She quivered distastefully at his touch and twisted away from him. An unpleasant expression flickered briefly in his eyes, but he said nothing.

“You see,” he continued after a moment, “I had noted something oddly familiar about the filthy old creature who had created them.”

By now, Tally had almost ceased breathing, and she sat silently, staring at her visitor in growing agony.

“Then it came to me. This person, though dressed in cast-off tatters, wore an exceptionally beautiful and obviously valuable ring.”

Tally glanced down involuntarily at her hands.

“Yes,” continued Crawshay, his gratified smile widening. “I see you understand now. I had seen that ring on several occasions. It was, in fact, the very same one that you are now twisting in your lap as though you would punish it for your own transgressions.”

Tally’s hands, cold and rigid as death, stilled, and it took every ounce of discipline she possessed not to cringe back into her chair in tears. Clenching her teeth, she berated herself for being so stupid. Crawshay swung his quizzing glass by its embroidered ribbon and observed her discomfiture with every evidence of pleasure.

“Then my memory was jogged back to an evening some weeks before. I was enjoying a comfortable pipe with an old friend at the Limmer’s taproom, when I became vaguely aware of a small gray-haired figure seated not far away. She was busy at something, but at the time I paid no attention. Then, several days later, to my surprise, I found myself pictured as an onlooker at one of Clifford and Clive’s more outrageous escapades, along with the friend who had joined me that night.”

He leaned forward and fixed Tally with a smiling gaze which chilled her to the marrow.

“You cannot imagine,” he said softly, “in how much difficulty I found myself because of that little cameo sketch. However,” he continued with a barely perceptible shrug, “I find it quite useless to dwell on what cannot be helped, particularly when there are matters of so much more import to discuss.”

Tally rose awkwardly, her knees having apparently turned to pudding. “I think we have nothing further to discuss, Mr. Crawshay,” she said with a valiant attempt at indifference. “You have wasted quite enough time with your ridiculous theories, and I wish you will take yourself off.”

Crawshay rose also, and caught Tally’s wrist in a crushing grip. “Please be seated, Lady Talitha,” he grated. “You will hear what I have to say to you, unless the picture of yourself as the publicly identified illustrator of the most scandalous literary sensation London has seen since the days of Swift’s
A Modest Proposal
appeals to you.”

“You would not!” gasped Tally, her face ashen.

“Without a second thought, my dear.” Crawshay spoke with emotionless finality, and Tally at last slumped in defeat.

“What is it you want?” she asked tonelessly.

Crawshay laughed delightedly. “Ah, I do love a woman who comes right to the point.” He grew serious and tapped his quizzing glass against his fingers for a long moment. “As you are no doubt aware, Lady Talitha, your host, Richard Thurston, is employed by the Foreign Office.”

Puzzled, Tally nodded.

“You may also be aware that he brings a good deal of his work home with him. You have perhaps observed the dispatch boxes he brings into the house from time to time.”

“Yes, of course. He works on their contents in his study. At least, I presume he does. We have never discussed his work.”

“Of course. He is quite the perfect civil servant—discreet to the eyebrows. However, it is the contents of those boxes that concern me. There are persons with whom I am, er, acquainted, who are most curious about certain papers, which Thurston keeps under lock and key in his study.”

Tally stared at Crawshay in fearful comprehension. “You’re not suggesting—” she began.

“I am suggesting nothing,” interrupted Crawshay, his voice filled for the first time with overt menace. “I shall be as plain as possible. You are in a perfect position to slip into Thurston’s sanctuary, and you’re going to get those papers for me.”

Tally stood again, and this time avoiding Crawshay’s grasp, she moved swiftly to stand in back of the chair.

“I will not! I would not so much as consider such a—a despicable act. Good God, You’re—a spy! You’re nothing but a traitor—a slimy Judas! How dare you suggest that I’d help you! I shall tell the authorities of your shameful activities!”

A deep flush spread across Crawshay’s vulpine features, and his lips thinned into an ugly line. “Oh, nobly spoken, my lady. Quite the little heroine. But I have watched you, my dear. I have seen your transformation from a country nobody to one of the most sought-after damsels in the ton, and it is obvious to the meanest intelligence that your new-found popularity means a great deal to you. However, once it becomes known that it was your pen that provided the illustrations for a piece of scurrilous trash, your position in Society will be considerably altered. With a few carefully placed words, you see, I can destroy you. You will be utterly ruined, my dear—an outcast with not a friend in the world.”

He paused to survey her assessingly.

“And what will your family have to say? I hope your brother, Lord Bamfield, is of a forgiving nature.”

Tally could only stare at him from stricken eyes.

“As for notifying the authorities,” he continued softly, “that would be most unwise of you. My associates are not possessed of as kind a nature as I. I fear they would use rather ruthless means to prevent you from taking such action.”

Swallowing the tears that threatened to overpower her, Tally turned to the window to gaze unseeing at the traffic that passed briskly along Half Moon Street.

Crawshay moved to her and stood close behind her, placing his hands caressingly on her shoulders. Tally closed her eyes in disgust as his lips brushed the tip of her ear.

“Are you having second thoughts, my dear?”

Tally shuddered convulsively, but did not answer. She remained unmoving, holding herself rigid.

“Ah, poor child.” Crawshay pressed closer, until she could feel the pressure of his body along her entire length. “It is all most unsettling, I agree.”

Tally twisted out of his grasp and moved away. “Please leave, Mr. Crawshay. I shall not hear another word of this — unspeakable treachery.”

Crawshay contemplated her and shook his head. “Perhaps I did not make myself clear. I am not requesting your assistance. I am telling you what I require.”

Tally moved to the bellpull, but Crawshay forestalled her by once again grasping her wrist.

“Please be still and listen. In his study, locked away in one of his desk drawers, Thurston keeps a file labeled sector four. The file contains six or seven documents. You will copy them, so that Thurston will not suspect they have been stolen.”

Tally, still in Crawshay’s grip, forced herself to a calm she did not feel. She faced her enemy scornfully.

“May I point out a flaw in this brilliant plan? Even if I were to accede to your wretched demands, how am I to break into Richard’s desk? I have no skill as a lock-pick, and if I take a hammer and chisel to the drawers, it’s very possible he may suspect dirty work.”

Crawshay allowed a thin smile to curve his lips. “Your opinion of me is most unflattering, my dear. Do you think me a fool?”

As Tally watched in horror, he pulled from his waistcoat pocket several small keys on a chain and handed them to her. “These will give you access to every drawer in Thurston’s desk. Nothing could be simpler than for you to steal into his study in the small hours of the night and find the necessary papers. It should not take you long to copy them.”

“How did you get those?” gasped Tally.

“As I have been trying to impress upon you, my dear, my associates and I are not fools. They were copied from Thurston’s own. He never even knew they had been, er, borrowed. We have, you see, a highly efficient organization. You would do well to remember that, for if you do not do precisely as I say, I shall, with great regret, of course, expose you to the merciless ridicule of the Polite World.

“And one more item for your consideration. I do hope the author of
Town Bronze
is not a friend of yours, for when your secret becomes known, you will no doubt be hounded mercilessly to reveal his identity.”

Tally gasped, as though the breath had been struck from her body. Dear God, she was completely at this man’s mercy!

Observing her consternation, Crawshay smiled gloatingly. “Do you plan to attend Lady Crewell’s masquerade ball next Thursday—five days hence? Excellent. Are you familiar with the small salon on the floor above the ballroom? Lady Crewell often receives guests there. Very good. At fifteen minutes past midnight, you will meet me there with the papers in hand. Do you understand?”

Tally’s heart pounded in great, panicky thuds. She must have time! The costume ball would not take place for five days, perhaps in that time.... As though from a great distance, she heard her voice whisper brokenly. “Yes.”

“Excellent,” he repeated. “I shall be costumed, by the by, as Merlin the Magician. An appropriate choice, don’t you think? I shall see you then, Lady Talitha.”

He turned as if to go, but then swung to face her again. “Perhaps I should add, since you are such a resourceful young woman, that I am extremely familiar with the names and places that will appear in this document. Any attempt on your part to present me with false information will be recognized, and dealt with most severely.”