Unmasking the Spy (15 page)

If he planned to make progress of
any kind, he needed to concentrate on the task at hand. Ian rose to his feet
and stood the painting upright on the table. He peered at every gilded swirl,
looking for a secret compartment of any kind. He ran his fingers along the cold
ridges, turning the painting in every direction. Nothing.

Very well, then. He’d have to
take it apart and look inside.

He turned the painting with
caution, so that the frame rested facedown without clattering to the tabletop.
With a penknife, he loosened the backing and set it aside. Careful not to touch
the canvas itself, Ian felt along the inner walls of the frame. When he reached
the bottom corners, his fingers scraped against two protrusions. A quick tug
unfastened a long, narrow strip of wood covering the base.

Ian stared in disbelief at the
hollow enclosure.

Once again, the note had been
both right and wrong. The alleged compartment existed, but contained nothing
but dust.

Ian ran a finger along the inner
recesses. Shallow scratches buffeted the pad of his finger. Empty now, but not
always. Something had once been secreted within. As with
Astronomy
, such
a discovery proved little except that the note-writer knew of its existence.
Chadwick himself may or may not even be aware. A frame of this age might have
been in the family for years.

Or, being a collector, he could
have acquired it at any time. Even, perhaps, from the villain himself. What a
stroke of evil brilliance that could prove to be – a villain who took advantage
of Chadwick’s nature by enabling him to purchase the very items to be used as
evidence against him.

Ian nudged the wooden divider
into place and replaced the backing. He tightened the fasteners and turned the
painting over to run a dry cloth along the frame. For the first time, he
focused on the canvas itself and gave a short bark of laughter.

The portrait depicted none other
than Charles II, the king who hid in the Royal Oak in order to avoid discovery.
Whoever chose his likeness for such a frame sported a fine sense of irony. Ian
would need some of the king’s own luck to return the painting undetected.

*          *          *

Alicia tried to hold still as her
maid dressed her for tonight’s ball. Jenny arranged the soft gauzy skirts
covering an under-layer of mint green. Short little sleeves puffed just so from
Alicia’s bare shoulders and a ribbon of emerald satin encircled her ribs
underneath her bust. The gown was beautiful, but Alicia found it difficult not
to fidget when her mind rattled with thoughts of Rogue.

He’d kissed her. He’d kissed her!
Alicia closed her eyes. She permitted his lips to rub against her own.
Encouraged him with her acquiescence, if she wanted to be honest. She’d been
fascinated. Reckless. Wanton. And why not? Every girl received her first kiss
sometime. And hers had been a romantic, secret kiss. How many women could say
that?

Alicia hugged her arms across her
chest, earning an accidental pinch by Jenny.

Letting any other gentleman have
the liberty to kiss her could have proved a bad mistake. Last night’s kiss, on
the other hand, could never come back to haunt her. No one knew it had
happened, except she and Rogue.

He was dashing. Charming.
Seductive. And hers. Their stolen moments were the one aspect of her life
unscripted by her father, their meetings the one arena where decisions were
hers to make. To be honest, Alicia couldn’t remember making a conscious
decision to allow his kisses. Rogue’s allure was an irresistible pull. She’d
been spellbound.

Alicia’s eyes flew open. She
had
been spellbound. She’d floated back to her room in a daze, forgetting her
father’s office altogether. Alicia burst out laughing.

“Miss Kinsey!” came Jenny’s soft,
reproachful voice.

“Sorry,” Alicia answered with a
rueful grin. Jenny would be arranging and rearranging all night if she didn’t
stand still.

Part of her wished she really
would miss the night’s entertainment. Balls were far more fun to look forward
to when one wasn’t traveling there in the company of one’s beastly cousin. She
couldn’t find her true love with Louis looming over her shoulder. She needed to
buy some time. But how? Quoting from books hadn’t helped her. It just made her
look crazy.

Alicia blinked.

Crazy. She could try being a
little mad. Not in an overt enough manner to attract the attention of anyone
other than Louis, of course. She could present herself as unpredictable.
Foolish. Someone so thickheaded he’d never want her for a bride. She could
“misunderstand” everything he said to her. Alicia grinned. Louis would never
want to marry a woman who was too stupid to follow his orders.

“Beautiful,” pronounced Jenny,
offering Alicia a hand mirror.

A strand of pearls wound around
Alicia’s neck and rested against the scooped bodice of the gown. Jenny’s artful
hands had piled her blonde ringlets in just the latest fashion.

Alicia smiled and her reflection
grinned back at her.

Tonight would be the night she
got rid of Louis for good. And if she were lucky, she might even discover a
potential suitor or two among the other guests.

She handed the mirror back to
Jenny and headed downstairs, where Louis waited. She smelled him before she saw
him and wished not for the first time that his cologne were not quite so
potent.

He stood at the bottom of the
stairs, checking his watch. A trail of muddy boot prints led from the door to
where he stood. Alicia shook her head.

“Oh dear,” she called as she
descended the steps. “You’ve tracked dirt on the floor.”

Louis shoved his watch into the
pocket of his waistcoat and tossed his head. “Hear me well, cousin,” he said
with a sneer. “I’ll do as I like. Never presume to think you can reprimand me.
I will own you.”

Alicia grit her teeth, but
schooled her features into a bland mask. “Why, Louis. When are you purchasing
me?”

His fingers wrapped around her
upper arm in a parody of helping her through the door. He leaned toward her
until his fetid breath puffed against her face. “Soon,” Louis whispered, then
jerked his head back as he erupted into a wild cackle.

*          *          *

Alicia completed yet another
circuit of the ballroom and labeled the evening thus far a perfect disaster.
Not a single eligible gentleman had asked for a spot on her card, although many
ineligible ones expressed interest. And Louis had already quit the game room
and was strutting toward her like a puffed up rooster. She put on her most
innocent expression and widened her eyes as he approached.

“I tell you,” he whined as soon
as he reached her side. “The card room here isn’t worth a ha’penny. Those
lily-livered jackanapes won’t partner me at whist.”

“I smelled a lily once,” Alicia
said and stared at his face as though she found its pudgy contours of great
interest.

Louis scratched his nose and
glared at her. “How am I supposed to win money if those pigs won’t gamble with
me?”

Alicia paused to consider. “I’ve
never eaten suckling pig.”

“What the devil are you talking
about?” he screeched. “I have no idea why hostesses covet your presence at
their soirées. You’re an addlepate.”

“I did see them the refreshment
room,” Alicia replied. “I ate one and it was quite delicious. I do love fruit.”

Louis stared at her. “I said
‘addlepate’, not ‘apple plate’,” he sputtered. “What are you, deaf? I will
never understand why you get all the invitations and I have to tag along at
your side. It should be the other way round.”

“I like invitations,” she said,
toying with a blonde ringlet.

He rolled his eyes. “You know,
I’m glad you’re a little stupid, cousin. I was afraid you’d turn out badly with
the education your mother insisted you have. I’m glad to see the tutors had
little lasting effect. I wouldn’t want you to get ideas above your station.”

“My mother was a very nice lady.”

“Hm. Well, at least she did no
lasting harm. I bet you didn’t even read those books you were quoting. No doubt
you just parrot those who are smarter than you.”

Alicia wrinkled her nose. “I
don’t like parrots.”

“Nobody
likes
parrots!
Parrots are as stupid as… as dancing.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “You
weren’t expecting me to dance with you, were you, cousin?”

She shook her head so hard stray
curls fell into her face.

Louis frowned. “Matter of fact,
you’re not dancing with anyone. Why did you even insist we come to these
things, if you’re just going to stand around doing nothing all night?”

Alicia tilted her head to one
side. “I get to wear gowns.”

He sniffed. “Fat lot you know
about fashion. When you belong to me, I’ll be sure to dictate your dress so
that you don’t gad about town looking like a heathen.”

She giggled. “Town is fun. I love
to shop with Great-aunt Beatrix. Shopping is fun.”

“One inch from the madhouse, that
one,” Louis said with a snicker. “Bedlam-bound for sure. If
I
were her
guardian…”

Only eight days remained until
her father expected her to willingly betroth herself to this self-righteous
clod? Alicia fingered her rope of pearls, wishing she could wrap the strand
around Louis’ fat neck.

*          *          *

Ian considered the painting with
a critical eye then stepped forward to straighten it again. There. He hoped
Chadwick had not missed it during its absence from the wall. Hard to say how
often he used his library, and whether he would be the sort to notice such
things.

Satisfied he’d placed the frame
at the precise angle he’d found it, Ian crossed the room to the doorway. He
cocked his head and listened for sounds before stepping out into the corridor.

Silence.

Not even Elizabeth arrived to
break the stillness. Perhaps that was just as well, Ian admitted with a
sardonic grin. It seemed he couldn’t behave in a proper manner when she was
about. He hoped she was fast asleep.

Ian leaned on his swordstick and
stared down the hall. He longed to search the office, but he’d already taken a
huge risk by coming so early. Elizabeth might wake up any second and stumble
upon him again. Worse, Chadwick or Alicia could still be out at some rout,
liable to walk through the door at any moment

He ought to make his own rounds.
He needed to visit as many parties as he could, to search for suspicious
personages in possession of mysterious amounts of money. He could come back to
Chadwick House later. Tomorrow, perhaps. Besides, Cobb was waiting with the
carriage.

He picked up his swordstick and
slipped from the house. He had barely walked a half mile from the house when
unmistakable sound hooves clopping up the road behind him. Ian paused and
turned.

Cobb.

Ian swung into the carriage and
removed his mask.

“On the way to the second house
of the evening then, sir?” came Cobb’s droll voice.

“And hurry,” answered Ian. “I’m
not sure we’ll get to many parties tonight, the hour being what it is.”

“Very well, sir. You’ll find your
shirt and accoutrements on the seat next to you.”

Ian looked across the seat and
saw the small pile. Cobb was a lifesaver.

He changed into the freshly
pressed shirt and did his best to tie his cravat as best he could, being in a
moving carriage without aid of a mirror. He had just placed his hat on his head
when Cobb pulled into the residence of the first party on his list. Perhaps the
jewel thief would give himself away at one of tonight’s balls. Ian shook his
head. So far, the villain had been quite circumspect.

Even as he leapt to the ground,
he sensed Miss Kinsey’s presence. She and her cousin were walking away from
him, toward a carriage being brought round. With luck, they wouldn’t notice his
proximity and he wouldn’t be forced into a prolonged conversation with the
ever-exasperating Larouche.

“Get into the carriage, cousin,”
came Larouche’s shrill voice.

“Is it ours?”

“Of course it’s ours! You saw it
brought ’round, didn’t you? Why would we get into someone else’s carriage?”

Miss Kinsey clapped her hands.
“What fun it would be!”

Ian watched as Larouche shoved
her inside and climbed in after her. Even over the din of hoof clops as the
horses pulled away, he could still hear Larouche’s inimitable voice railing at
her. Ian shook his head as he climbed the steps of the great house.

He was glad to be unrelated to
both of them.

*          *          *

In the morning, Ian awoke with
the sun. He rubbed his face with his hands, his bleary vision hinting that
three hours of sleep wasn’t quite enough to counteract a long, stressful
evening. He hesitated to ring for Cobb, knowing the old man also needed his
rest. Ian tossed on his robe. He cinched the tie around his waist as he left
the bedroom and descended the stairs. He rounded the corner to step into the
sunlit corridor when a backlit figure cut a shadow across his path.