The Vanishing Thief (4 page)

“No. We're still waiting for Fogarty. In the meantime, enjoy your tea.” Sir Broderick adjusted his lap robe and smiled through hooded eyes at the group.

The buzzer sounded again, and as male voices were heard in the stairwell, Frances returned to the tea table for another scone. “Might as well tuck ourselves in for a long meeting.”

I doubted they'd spend much time on Drake's possible disappearance.

“All right, the Archivist Society members I've summoned are now all here. Shall we begin?” Sir Broderick said, breaking into my thoughts as he wheeled his chair around to face me.

I looked around the study, the warmest, most brightly lit room I'd ever entered. Jacob had joined us, his legs stretched out from a settee, a plate of scones balanced on his lap. Adam Fogarty leaned against a bookcase, drumming his fingers on a shelf. Frances sat next to Emma, scone crumbs spread across her ample chest. Dominique had vanished.

I began by telling them everything Edith Carter had told me and my impressions of the woman. I passed around the photograph Miss Carter had given me of Nicholas Drake, and then Jacob set it on the desk to be taken to an Archivist Society member who was a photographer to have copies made.

“Why did Miss Carter have a photograph of her next-door neighbor? Not the usual thing to have, is it?” Fogarty said.

“No, but her concern made it clear she's in love with Nicholas Drake. Her possession of this photograph tells me he reciprocated her feelings.”

The buzzer sounded. I fell silent and looked to Sir Broderick, who nodded to Jacob. The young man set down his plate and silently hurried down the stairs to the front door.

Moments later, I heard the door open and a commanding voice said, “The Duke of Blackford for Sir Broderick duVene and Miss Fenchurch.”

“They're not available this evening, Your Grace.”

“Oh, I think they'll see me.”

Emma whispered, “That's him. That's Georgia's duke.”

“He's not my—” I looked at Sir Broderick and gulped. This was worse than any nightmare. How did he know I was here? My friends would throw me out of their society after this debacle.

“Bring him up, Jacob,” Sir Broderick called out.

My heart thudded with every step on the stairs. I glanced around the room. Every eye was trained on the doorway.

Maybe it was only a fluctuation in the gas pressure, but it seemed to me that the lights dimmed as the Duke of Blackford entered the study. He was dressed in the finest of black evening wear, and it seemed to absorb the warmth and brightness of the room and replace it with chilled darkness. Every hair on his head was precisely combed despite the wind outside.

I didn't realize the room had grown silent and I was holding my breath until Sir Broderick said, “Come in, Your Grace, and state your business with us.”

“You need to cease your search for Nicholas Drake.”

“Has he been found?”

“No.” The duke stood just inside the room, towering over the seated occupants. His eyes were like burning coals, a thin crust of black holding the flame within. I knew I'd be in awe of his passion if he'd direct it toward something beneficial. As it was, I was astonished at the tightly leashed power flowing from him like heat from the fire. How had he known we were meeting here tonight?

“Then why should we stop?” Sir Broderick asked.

“A slander has been made against my reputation. I am the one who should find Drake and prove my innocence in his disappearance.”

“Our help could prove invaluable.”

“I doubt it.” The scorn in the duke's voice was unmistakable.

Sir Broderick didn't hide his anger. “You underestimate us, Your Grace.”

“No. You underestimate us. Call off your search for Nicholas Drake.” He faced me, his gaze piercing my brain. “Your help is neither wanted nor appreciated.”

Then he turned back to our host. “This should conclude any business between us. Miss Fenchurch, if you'll see me out?”

I glanced at Sir Broderick, who nodded slightly. I rose and gave the duke my arm. He escorted me down the stairs in silence while I tried to plan a series of questions that might lead me to the reason a duke had descended on our meeting and ordered us away from the investigation.

Stunned, my mind spent those precious few moments absorbing the precision of his steps, the firmness of his arm, and the scents of soap and smoke. I couldn't think of a single articulate question.

“Please convey to Sir Broderick that I am serious about handling this investigation without your interference.” He picked up his silk top hat and reached for the door handle.

I moved to stand with my back to the door, blocking his way. “We've not yet decided if we will undertake this search, but we might be more amenable to your request if you told us what was behind it.”

“This slur on my reputation is my business, not yours.”

“We've been asked to locate a missing man, not salvage your pristine reputation.” My tone made clear what I thought was more important.

He stared down on me, standing close enough to let me study the grim set of his mouth and feel the heat coming off his body past the cold air trapped in his heavy wool overcoat. For the first time, I noticed tiny light gray flecks in his dark eyes. “You don't know what you're getting involved in.”

“I'm going to find out.”

“You said the Archivist Society hasn't yet decided to undertake a search for Drake.” His hand reached past me to the door handle.

I decided on my first step. I would defy a duke to find Nicholas Drake. “You said ‘us' upstairs. Who are the others? The men in your club who've also been victims of Mr. Drake's larceny?”

He opened the door by pushing me aside with it. “Why put yourself in danger?”

“Because a man is missing. He deserves to be found.”

Blackford stepped outside. “No, he doesn't.”

“Why not?”

“He brings misery into the lives of everyone he meets.”

I stood on the doorstep, a cold mist blowing against my face, but I didn't want to shut the door on the duke and the challenge he presented. “I can't believe that.”

His mouth twisted into a grimace. “You've never met him.”

“Are you telling me this because he's a thief?”

“No.”

“Then how can you say he brings misery everywhere? Who is he to you? You're much too concerned about a man who is unimportant in your circles.”

He studied my face, his dark eyes losing the light gray flecks as I stared back. The mist stung with sleet but neither of us moved. I wanted to know his real reason for warning us off this case. I wanted to memorize his features. I wanted to consider the agitation raising my heart rate while I faced this powerful adversary. I had no idea why he didn't walk away.

Finally he said, “Don't exert yourself finding him. He doesn't deserve your sympathy or your pity.” He set his top hat on his head, covering his thick black hair worn straight as a soldier's back.

“Yes, he does. Everyone deserves that much. Good night, Your Grace.” I shut the door and leaned against it, listening to my pounding heart. When I didn't hear any knocking on the outside of the door from an irate duke or his retainers, I wearily climbed the stairs, shoving back the messy curls that had come loose from my hairdo while I'd argued with the duke in the windy doorway.

Frances broke the quiet in the study when I entered. “That was the duke who's involved in this investigation? Oh, my. Not what I expected.”

I couldn't resist a dry retort. “They're not all old and fat.” He'd just dismissed my assistance in a very public manner, and it annoyed me. Why would he think he could do a better job than me? Than the entire Archivist Society?

Fogarty, who rarely sat and never stayed motionless, limped across the room. “How did he know you'd be here?”

“I don't know.”

“How did he know you were investigating Drake's disappearance?”

I told them of my investigation of the carriage in question, and my earlier visit to Drake's home.

I was aware of every pair of eyes on me, every click of a tongue, every murmur. I plodded on through each detail. They were fellow Archivist Society members and my friends. And they all held accuracy in high regard.

Fogarty, assuming the line of questioning he learned during his years on the Metropolitan Police force, took down my description of the jewelry stolen from the two women and the approximate dates. “I'll see if this was really reported stolen.” He snapped his little notebook shut.

“You think the duke told me a fib?”

“I think it's better to check.”

Sweat slid down my back by the time I finished, and my throat was dry. I took a sip of my now-cold, too-sweet tea and said, “Any questions?”

Sir Broderick led the questioning. “What did he want with you downstairs?”

“To warn me off this investigation. He said it would be dangerous.”

“What do you think happened to Nicholas Drake?”

“I don't know. I believe that the duke's carriage was not used in the abduction, but I also think Miss Carter sincerely believes the duke is involved. There can't be too many carriages fitting that description. Finding them and learning if they were used that night would be one place to start.” I came to a halt and looked at Sir Broderick. “That is, if we're going to investigate this case.”

Frances looked from one colleague to another. “I think we should continue. Something happened to the man and it wasn't a trip to Brighton.”

The door buzzer sounded again, stopping any response. Jacob went downstairs and in a moment they heard a man say, “Is the Archivist Society still meeting?”

“And you are—?”

“Lord Edward Hancock.”

Sir Broderick shut his eyes and shook his massive head. “Bring him up, Jacob.”

Lord Hancock was an ordinary-looking man with fair coloring and lines around his eyes from a permanent squint. When he saw Sir Broderick's wheeled chair, he took a half step back and looked around for another person to address. His gaze lighted on Adam Fogarty, who now leaned on the back of my chair, tapping his foot against the chair leg and annoying me so I could barely concentrate on the new arrival. “I'm Lord Hancock and I'd like to ask you not to search for Nicholas Drake.”

“Why?” Sir Broderick barked, and for an instant I expected to see him leap from his chair. Then I blinked and realized I was seeing him as he'd been the day I ran to him for help rescuing my parents. Seeing the man who'd put Sir Broderick in his wheeled chair was affecting my thoughts. I needed to tell Sir Broderick I'd found the killer—and admit I'd lost him again.

Hancock jumped when Sir Broderick spoke, but he recovered quickly and said loudly, “The man has been pursuing my ward, and any time they spend apart is welcome.”

Sir Broderick said, “No need to shout. My ears work well. Do you believe Mr. Drake left because he wanted to avoid a closer friendship with your ward?”

Lord Hancock flushed. “No. I believe he left because his crimes have come to light, making his life in London unbearable. Mr. Drake is a thief.”

“Is this your opinion or is this common knowledge?” Fogarty, who paced through our meetings like a caged animal, his limp more pronounced in bad weather, was now standing to the side of the fireplace.

“In the last week, several of us who've lost items of value to a skilled thief realized the common denominator was Drake. We were gathering information to confront him when he disappeared. Needless to say, my ward knows nothing about this, and I'd prefer to preserve her delicate feelings by preventing her from discovering that someone she thought a friend was truly reprehensible.”

“Did Mr. Drake know you suspected him?”

“I don't know. We tried to ask questions discreetly.”

Uneasiness crept up the back of my neck. “Was the Duke of Blackford someone you discussed this with?”

Hancock swung around at my question. “Yes. He's been more upset than most. An item he lost belonged to someone he loved who has died.”

“Why don't you want us to investigate, my lord? We could be of great assistance, and we are very discreet,” Fogarty said.

“He's probably already fenced the jewelry he stole, and I don't want him back in society spending time with my ward. We'd all be better off if he stayed in Brighton or wherever he's gone.”

“Who is your ward?” Mrs. Atterby asked.

“Daisy Hancock, my late brother's daughter. He and his wife died on her eleventh birthday. She's out in society now. I've grown quite fond of her over the years.”

I decided to chance learning the names of the other victims. “Who was in this group besides you, the Duke of Blackford, and the Duke of Merville?”

“The Earl of Waxpool and Lord Dutton-Cox. If Drake's stolen from others, they don't belong to our club.”

“And you propose that the five of you handle this matter rather than the police or the Archivist Society?” Sir Broderick stared at the man from under hooded eyes, his large hands gripping the wheels of his chair.

“The police believe he's in Brighton. They also understand five peers don't want them looking into the situation. I hope you show the same wisdom.”

“I doubt Mr. Drake would find such a course of action wise. Good evening.” Sir Broderick swung away to face the fireplace.

Hancock glanced around the room before his shoulders drooped. When none of us looked him in the eye, he said, “Good night.” His footsteps were slow and heavy going down the stairs.

Once the door had been shut and Jacob had returned, Emma said, “Have we ever been thrown off a case twice in one night by two people who've not hired us?”

“No. You've brought us quite a little puzzle, Georgia,” Sir Broderick said.

“The duke told me he thought Drake stole from him. Now we know some others to investigate in his disappearance.” I looked at Sir Broderick. “If we take the case on, of course.”