Love and Larceny (7 page)

“As for that, I’ll go poke around while you
wake her,” Wynn offered.

“Very well,” Daphne agreed. “But even though
our thief is armed, I think you have the better part of the
bargain.”

As she bent over her mother, Wynn let himself
out onto the terrace. Plucking a torch from its bracket, he
descended the stairs and craned his neck to see past the turn of
the house, ready to duck back under cover if he saw the musket
trained his way. As he had expected, however, the way lay empty. He
scanned the ground, but the grass told little after being trod all
day by the feet of the guests. Yet something flashed in the
light.

Bending, he picked up a rough pebble. The
silver gray rock looked like weathered limestone to him. With
Brentfield Manor made of rosy brick, it certainly hadn’t fallen
from the house. And any gravel he’d seen had been a powdery
white.

Had their thief dropped the rock from his
shoe as he ran? The Mendip Hills were made of limestone, if he
recalled his geology lessons in school. Did that mean the villain
was hiding in the caverns nearby?

Voices above told him Daphne had company.
Pocketing the rock, he climbed the stairs, returned the torch to
its holder, and limped into the house.

“There you are,” Lord Brentfield heralded.
He, Lady Emily, and Sir James were standing beside Daphne, who was
supporting her mother. “Hannah sent us to see what had become of
you. What happened?”

“We saw the thief!” Daphne declared. “He
passed by the terrace, and then below it. We would have caught him
if we hadn’t been interrupted.”

“I’m not sure what you saw,” Lord Brentfield
said, obviously choosing his words with care. “But I doubt a thief
would dare come so close to the house with so many people
about.”

Lady Rollings raised her head, spirits
reanimating. “And I can assure you, my lord, that my daughter is
telling the truth. I saw the creature myself.”

As Lord Brentfield frowned, Sir James pushed
himself forward, Lady Emily right beside him. The Runner’s color
was high, his gray eyes looking as sharp as the rock Wynn had
found.

“What did he look like?” he demanded. “What
was he wearing? How did he move?”

Lady Rollings withdrew herself from Daphne’s
grip to straighten to her full height. “See here, sirrah! I am not
accustomed to being questioned like one of the thieves you
catch.”

Sir James had the good sense to look
abashed.

“You may not be accustomed to being
questioned,” Lady Emily said, “but when you have witnessed
something momentous, you have a duty to share your
impressions.”

Lady Rollings inclined her head. “Very well.
I was standing here, conversing with my daughter and Mr.
Fairfax—”

“Scolding more like,” Daphne muttered.

Wynn hid a smile as her mother continued
undaunted. “When I noticed some rough-looking fellow creeping past
the stairs to the terrace, gun bundled close and face dripping with
malice.”

Wynn hadn’t thought the fellow looked
particularly malicious. Terrified, more like, even with that musket
in his arms. Perhaps he’d thought himself about to be apprehended.
Still, Lord Brentfield was right. Why would a thief venture so near
the house when he had to have seen the lights blazing and known
people were up and about? It made no sense.

“Perhaps it was a groundskeeper,” Wynn
offered, “concerned about disturbing your guests.”

Lord Brentfield nodded. “Very likely. We’ve
had trouble with poachers.”

Lady Rollings eyed Wynn. “A logical
explanation, it seems. Perhaps he wasn’t as mean-spirited as I
thought. Thank you for the suggestion, Mr. Fairfax.”

Was that praise? He could hardly believe it.
Daphne must have found her mother’s words encouraging, for she was
grinning at him as if he’d done something utterly marvelous.

Lady Emily turned to Lord Brentfield, who did
not seem relieved at Wynn’s explanation.

“You can question the staff tomorrow, my
lord,” she said, “but I warrant you will not find one willing to
admit to being on that terrace. Someone is stalking Brentfield.
There is nothing for it. You must allow us to investigate.”

Daphne watched Lord Brentfield. His head was
cocked, his blue eyes narrowed as he studied her friend, as if he
would see inside Emily to the truth. He truly could not refuse her
request to investigate, not with everyone, including Daphne’s
mother, regarding him as fixedly.

“Very well,” he said, then quickly raised a
finger as Emily brightened. “But under two conditions: you will
tell me what you intend to do before you do it, and you will report
to me after it’s done. We’ve made extensive repairs on the house,
but there may still be places that are dangerous. I won’t have
anyone else injured.”

Daphne nodded, but she could see Wynn
frowning. She hadn’t told him about the end of their first
adventure at Brentfield. The story was part of Priscilla’s Dreaded
Family Secret, after all. Priscilla’s aunt was the former Lady
Brentfield, the lady married to this Lord Brentfield’s distant
cousin who had held the earldom previously. Only a chosen few knew
about Lady Brentfield’s involvement in the previous thefts or the
injuries to mind and body she had sustained in her attempt to
escape justice. Even though Priscilla was off the marriage mart,
the story of a mad aunt cared for by keepers could still affect her
family’s standing on the
ton
should it become widely known.
Daphne and her friends had all worked too hard to avoid scandal to
embrace it now.

“I would like to add a condition of my own,”
Daphne’s mother put in. She leveled her gaze on Daphne, who tried
not to squirm under it. “No one is to wander about alone. You must
take at least one other person with you, and young ladies must be
properly chaperoned.”

Daphne nearly groaned aloud. Her mother
simply would not give up. Who would think anything remotely
improper could happen while chasing after a thief? What did her
mother think, they’d chance letting the dastard get away because
they simply had to stop for a kiss?

Daphne’s gaze met Wynn’s and knew he was
thinking the same thing.

Lord Brentfield, however, nodded. “Wise
advice. Well, Lady Emily? Do you and your friends agree to our
terms?”

Lady Emily glanced to her Jamie, who touched
his forelock in salute, and then to Daphne, who nodded
encouragement. She stood taller. “Yes, Lord Brentfield, I do. And I
will tell you the next step. Tonight, you must set a footman to
watch this area of the house. It may be that the thief was looking
for a way in, and you can foil him.”

Lord Brentfield nodded again. “Agreed. And
tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Emily said, “we will interview
the staff, particularly those who claim to have heard noises or may
have had cause to enter the secret passages.”

Lady Rollings frowned. “Secret passages?”

“Built earlier in the house’s history,” Lord
Brentfield explained. “Their construction has deteriorated with
time. I had most of them sealed off earlier this year.”

By the way Emily’s smile threatened, Daphne
wasn’t the only one who had heard the word
most
. So some of
the passages remained open and available for use, possibly for
nefarious purposes. She’d only ventured into them once, and only
for a short time before Hannah, then her chaperone, had discovered
her and the others and ordered them out. But she could hardly wait
to go exploring again.

“Would you happen to have a map of these
passages, my lord?” Sir James asked.

“My friend Asheram and I drew one up last
spring,” Lord Brentfield replied. “Come to the library with me, and
I’ll show you.”

Emily and Sir James started to follow him,
and Wynn hesitated with a look to Daphne.

Daphne’s mother caught her arm before she
could take a step. “Oh no, young lady. You are finished for the
evening. I will escort you to bed, and I expect that you will not
set one foot outside your door until a reasonable time in the
morning. Have I made myself clear?”

Daphne swallowed her disappointment. “Yes,
Mother.” She turned to Wynn, who offered a commiserating look.
“Good night, Mr. Fairfax. I hope I can count on you to share what
you learn from Lord Brentfield.”

Wynn gave her a little bow. “Your servant,
Daph—Miss Courdebas.”

Her mother glowered at him before leading
Daphne away.

“I do not understand what you see in that
young man,” she said, gliding along beside Daphne. “His family is
suitable but unremarkable. He has income through his late father’s
estate but not true wealth. You, on the other hand, have acquired a
certain notoriety on the
ton
. We have the sons of dukes and
marquesses in our sitting room on a daily basis. You could do far
better than Mr. Fairfax.”

It was on Daphne’s tongue to protest, but she
kept her mouth resolutely shut. For one thing, her mother wouldn’t
listen to her explanations. For another, eventually her mother
would realize that all those titled, noble callers considered
Daphne nothing more than another playmate. Not one had ever
conceived of offering her marriage.

Not that she held marriage to be the only
path open to her. Emily’s painting and Ariadne’s writing had proven
to Daphne it might be possible to support herself, albeit outside
Society, without a husband if she must. But there was something
sweet about considering a husband at her side, children surrounding
them. She thought being a mother would be wonderful, for all her
own mother at times seemed a bit annoyed by the entire matter. She
could see herself encouraging her children, helping them discover
their talents, teaching them to value themselves and their friends
and family. She had never spoken about the matter to her friends,
because, compared to their goals, her own seemed rather small and
provincial. But she thought achieving those goals would make her
happy nonetheless.

She simply had to find a gentleman who shared
them.

And what of Mr. Sheridan? She’d had such
hopes for the fellow, but he hadn’t come in search of her after
she’d left the dance. If he was truly interested in her, why remain
behind?

On the other hand, it was quite possible Lady
Minerva had latched on to him and refused to let go. He seemed the
sort of polite, Society gentleman who might have found it hard to
refuse the demands of an elderly lady. Then too, very likely he
wanted to impress his hosts after they had made room for him. But
she would have preferred that he seek out her company, at least
check to make sure she hadn’t fallen off a ledge somewhere!

As her mother had threatened, she saw Daphne
to her room and gave her such a searching look that Daphne could
only bid her mother humbly good night. But she simply could not
settle in the lovely room Hannah had assigned her, even after her
maid had helped her into her blue flannel nightgown and combed out
her hair.

How was Daphne supposed to sleep when there
were passages to explore, thieves to thwart? She hadn’t even had a
chance to ask Wynn if he’d discovered anything when he’d searched
the stairs and terrace. How could she possibly wait until
morning?

She’d always done her best to heed her
mother’s warnings and advice. Certainly she never broke a promise.
So it seemed as if she was stuck in this room until dawn.

Which was a perfectly reasonable time to
rise.

She made herself lie down on the bed,
squeezed shut her eyes. But she kept seeing Wynn’s face right
before he kissed her, eyes soft as the tide on the shore, smile
sweet. The vision made her feel warm, as if the summer air had
invaded her bed. Worse, she could hear a decided knocking, as if
her heart was pounding in her ears.

Or someone was rapping at the wall.

She bolted out of bed and stood listening.
Yes. The sound seemed to be coming from the wall next to the
dressing table. There it was again—tap, tap, tap—like knuckles on a
door.

Was it the thief? Was he about to burst in on
her?

She glanced around, then seized up the brass
candlestick and advanced on the wall.

“Who’s there?” she demanded. “I warn you, I’m
armed. Enter at your own peril!”

“Daphne.” The voice came dimly through the
walls, and despite herself she shivered. “It’s me, Wynn. I found a
passage. Let me in.”

*

Wynn crouched beside the wall, waiting, the
candle offering a tiny circle of light in the darkness. Why didn’t
Daphne answer him? He could not conceive that he had scandalized
her, not his bold Amazon, by appearing this way. And she certainly
couldn’t be afraid. She’d been all bravado a minute ago. Now her
silence was more unnerving than the shadowed byways through which
he’d come.

Then he heard her voice echo faintly through
the wall. “ I’m not sure how to open it on my side. Is there a
lever or a mechanism or . . . Wait, I have it.”

A moment later, the panel slid aside to
reveal her standing there. It seemed she had expected to sleep, for
she was dressed in a flowing gown of blue flannel with satin
ribbons at the neck and wrists, and her warm brown hair draped her
shoulders like a veil. For the first time since he’d known her, she
looked soft, sweet, entirely feminine. He couldn’t stop staring at
her.

She set down the candlestick she had been
holding and beamed at him. “Well, aren’t you clever!”

Wynn felt his face heat and forced his gaze
away from her. “I studied Lord Brentfield’s map and realized one of
the openings to the passages was near my room and one near yours.
My entrance was unblocked. I took a chance on yours.” He wiggled
back to make room for her beside him. “It’s a bit dusty and dark,
but well worth a look. Fetch your cloak and join me.”

She hurried to do as he bid, then returned to
hand the candlestick to him before gathering her skirts and
climbing into the opening. That was another reason he loved Daphne.
She was willing to try anything. Handing her back her candlestick,
he showed her how to duck under the beams and climb up to where the
passage opened on either side and above, and they could stand. She
stared around, eyes wide in wonder.